fragile | jelix

chapter 39

the last week had been barely doable. i'd been having sleepless nights because of that same stupid dream of jack, me and my dad were arguing more than usual, bullying at school was increasing, and worst of all, for that entire week jack's curtains had been closed. all i wanted to do was see him. i knew it would be the only way to cheer me up and make my life a little less of a hell.

i had no idea why they were closed. all i did was hope that whatever it was, he was okay, and i would still be able to visit him once his curtains were back open.

i walked home from school extra slowly, not wanting to go back. apart from jack's house, i didn't feel safe anywhere anymore. ironic considering it's not even my house and his parents aren't aware that i've been sneaking in there. when i finally reached my door and walked inside, my dad was stood there with what looked like an envelope in his hand.

"a letter came for you earlier. i don't know from who but...i don't really care, so take it." he held the letter out in front of him. i took it, trying my hardest not to smile. i knew that it was a letter from jack, it had to be. nobody else ever wrote me letters. maybe it was him explaining why his curtains were closed. maybe he had gotten treatment like his mom hinted, and he was telling me about how it was all going! i pretty much rushed upstairs after grabbing the letter, running into my room and slamming the door shut behind me. i threw myself onto my bed and looked at the writing on the envelope. my shortlived cheer faded a little when i realised that the letter wasn't from jack, but from his mother.

it still could have been something about his treatment. i just would have preferred to hear it from jack instead of her. i grew more excited as i ripped the envelope open and unfolded the letter. then i began reading.

dear felix,
                   i'm not all too sure if you and jack still talk or stay in contact. you haven't been writing any letters to each other lately, so i'm assuming you lost touch, unless you've somehow been communicating some other way. but whether you still talk to him or not, i thought it would be best if i told you about some news. it's taken me a while to write this letter, so please forgive me for telling you so late.

about a week ago i went into seán's room in the morning to check if he was alright, to make sure he hadn't fallen out of his bed in the night. i always did that. i always checked on him in the morning, and he was always fine. most of the time he was fast asleep, uninjured, unharmed. but last week when i went in there to check on him, i realised that he wasn't moving or breathing at all. i went over to him and tried waking him up, before noticing a needle and an empty bottle of morphine on the floor next to his bed. i knew as soon as i saw it all that he was dead. and i hate to say it, i hate the thought of my own son committing suicide. but i really feel that he did it because he was sick of living the way that he was. he was tired of having so many restrictions and he just couldn't handle it anymore. he wasn't happy. and now neither am i. he was the light of my life, and him being gone has ruined me, even in the short amount of time he's been missing. walking into his room and seeing his empty bed, his empty wheelchair, it's draining.

anyway, i thought i should let you know. i'm sorry. if you want to talk to us about it, just come over to the house at any point, it's fine by me. his funeral will be soon and you can attend if you want, but i don't recommend it. funerals can be more draining than that person's passing. i'm so so sorry about all of this. he really did appreciate you a lot. i think i'd go as far as to say he loved you.

sincerely,
                   mrs mcloughlin

i could have saved him