4. 4

4

Ember

I was silent in the car on the way home, but once we were there, I ran to my room and locked myself in there, because I didn’t want the awkward chat that would come after such an explosive therapy session. Who would, right?

“Ember?”

“Please, just leave me alone for a while. I… I’m sorry I said all that stuff, but I need to be alone,” I gasped out, as the tears started. Tears. I thought I was done crying, but here the tears were again.

I felt so alone, so lost, so worthless. The last few times this had happened, I’d ended up doing something really stupid, and I’d nearly died. Was I ready to try that again? Did I think I could get it right this time?

The sensible thing would be to let my mum in, and tell her how I was feeling, right? The smart thing would be to tell someone, anyone, instead of reaching for the nearest sharp object, FYI there wasn’t one in my room for this very reason, or the nearest box of pills, again damn near impossible these days. There were still ways though, right?

I reached into my pocket and dug out the only thing I had to hand, my phone. I stared at it for long moments, angrily scrubbing the tears away as I tried to find someone to call.

In the end, I found Blaze’s number, and as I went to hit the dial button, I fumbled the phone, dropping it on the carpet. I could dimly hear a ringing sound, and then him answering the phone, as I lunged over the bed to grab it and lift it to my ear.

“Oh thank god. Thank god. Please talk to me, because I’m… I think I need to… I don’t want to be alive anymore,” I blurted out, knowing it’d scare the hell out of Blaze, but also knowing he might be the only one who’d understand why I’d called him. He was the only one I’d ever even told a little about the things that I’d been through.

“Em? Is that you?”

That wasn’t Blaze’s voice. Who the hell did I just call? I lifted the phone away from my ear and focused on the screen, finally seeing who I’d dialled. Oh god no.

“Em? Em, please talk to me. I’m here, and I won’t judge whatever’s going on, but please don’t go silent on me. Are… are you uh…” I lifted the phone back to my ear and took a breath.

“Mr E, god I’m so… so sorry. I was trying to call my brother.”

He fell silent for the briefest moment, and my breath hitched in my throat, a small hiccup from all the crying. The tears returned as the shock dissipated, and my devastation returned, creeping up on me like a black cloud of self-hatred.

“Would you rather talk to him? I don’t like hearing you this upset, Em. What happened? Can you tell me that? I could… I could come over?”

Oh god. He was my tutor, not my friend, not my confidant, and yet suddenly, god yes, all I wanted was that safe, calming presence of his.

“Yes,” I choked out, and he told me to stay on the line, as he grabbed his keys and went out to his car. In the car, he kept me on the line on speaker, and he just kept quiet, except now and then, he’d say my name again, just to get me to say something, so he’d know I was still there. Still breathing.

By the time he ended the call, he was banging on the door downstairs, and I heard one of my dads answer the door. They chatted briefly, and then there were heavy footsteps on the stairs, and finally a hesitant knock on my door. Was it him, or did they make him stay downstairs?

“Em? Uh… I’m uh here.” It was him. I ran over and unlocked the door, dragging it open, and then we stared at each other for a long moment, while I guess we both realised the same things. It was weird of me to call him; my tutor. It was weird for him to be here like this. He was outside my bedroom, and he’d never been near my room before.

“Uh… do you want to talk down in the study?” He looked at me awkwardly, and I saw the concern on his face, watching warily as his hand lifted in my direction, then lowered again. He knew not to touch me, not that he’d try. He was my tutor and wouldn’t cross that line, but suddenly I wanted him to.

“No. You can… uh… come in here though.”

He stared towards the stairs behind him and hesitated a moment.

“I mean, your dad said it was okay to come up, but I didn’t think you’d uh…”

“Please. I don’t want to be near any of them right now. They’re why I lost it.”

He glanced behind him again and then nodded once, stepping inside my room, watching me warily as I closed and locked the door.

He cleared his throat, staring at the lock, his frown deepening.

“I don’t think having the door closed is appropriate, let alone locked.”

“Please. I don’t want… they’ll be listening, and I don’t want… oh god. Why did I call you? I wanted Blaze.”

Mr E sighed. “It was weird that I rushed over here, wasn’t it? What the hell was I thinking?”

Then he shoved his hands in his pockets, another pair of dark jeans that looked good on him. His brown hair was a little shaggy, like it was just a little too long, and it made him look boyish even though he was older than me. Old enough that he probably shouldn’t be in my room, just like he’d tried to say.

“I guess what I was thinking was that my favourite student was struggling, and I wanted to help. Do you want me to leave?”

“NO. I mean… maybe it’s easier to talk to you because you’re none of them, you know?”

Ethan

WHAT WAS I THINKING, rushing over here to my student’s house? I guess it’s one of those things, right? A person is in so much pain that they reach out for help, to avoid doing something drastic, something I was aware she’d tried four times before, and the instinct is to stop them, to help, to do something.

I shouldn’t be in her damn room though, and while her dad let me come upstairs, her parents never actually approved that, but here we are, locked in her bedroom alone.

“I can listen,” I said slowly, looking around for somewhere to sit, but of course there was only the bed. I couldn’t sit on her damn bed with her, I mean, she wasn’t a kid anymore of course, but she was still my student, and she wasn’t even eighteen. It was just plain wrong. As an almost thirty year old, hell fucking yeah it’s wrong.

“I don’t know where to start,” Em said, her breath hitching in her throat again. She’d been crying, a lot, a fact made so much more obvious by the streaked makeup on her face. It was reminiscent of Alice Cooper, and yeah, keep thoughts like that in your head, so you remember your age, asshole.

“Why don’t you sit uh… sit down, and I’ll lean against the uh-”

“You could sit too.” She dropped heavily onto her bed, waving at me to do the same, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t sit on a teenager’s fucking bed with her. There was nothing appropriate about this situation, but… her mental health was the priority right now. I had to keep reminding myself of that, and putting propriety aside for now. I perched on the edge of the bed, as far away as I could, but I hopped up again almost instantly.

I walked over to the door, and turned the lock again, so we were no longer locked in together.

“What are you doing?” Em sat up, looking worried, even as I returned to her and sat precariously at the end of the bed again.

“Just trying to protect both of us, Em. Forget that for now. What happened today to hurt you so much? You can tell me anything, I promise. I won’t breathe a word to your parents.” That was a dumb fuck promise. What if she admitted to doing drugs? What if she told me she’d been fucking every… Jesus… don’t go there. What if she was doing harm to herself, and I’d just promised to hide it?

“I… I murdered someone,” she whispered, throwing my mind into horror and turmoil, as I shot up from the bed again.

“What?!” Fuck! I promised I wouldn’t talk, and that made me an accomplice. I… wait…

“Why, Em? Did they hurt you? Are you hurt?” I dropped back on the bed, reaching towards her before I remembered all the reasons why I couldn’t touch her.

“I… I was just testing your promise.”

“What?!”

“I didn’t really kill anyone. I wanted to see what you’d do. If you’d yelled for my parents or something, I’d have known I can’t trust you after all. Mr E, I really want to trust you.”

Jesus Christ. She was more dangerous than I’d realised. I swallowed hard, forcing my breathing to calm back down.

“Okay, you just aged me by a decade, but fine. I get your point. Something happened today, right? Oh… it’s family therapy day, isn’t it? That’s why we had no tutoring today.”

She nodded, sniffling a little as her posture sank back in on itself. She looked smaller and more fragile than she had even a minute ago.

“Talk, Em. I’m here to listen.” What the fuck did I know though? This was the job of a therapist, not a fucking teacher. Although, she’d just come from therapy and it clearly hadn’t helped.

“I… my god, I was such a bitch, I mean, I totally screamed at them, at my parents. I told them they were terrible parents, that they were to blame for everything wrong with me, and my brothers. I told them they’d had too many kids, and they were failing all of us.” She dissolved into sobs at this point, her hands covering her face.

I’d often wondered about the family dynamic here, but everyone seemed mostly happy and well cared for, so who was I to judge? Did I think five kids was a lot? Of course, but there was an extra parent, right?

“Em, I can’t understand you,” I said, because she was mumbling into her hands. Before I could stop myself, I reached out and caught her lightly by the wrist, pulling one hand away from her face. She lowered the other at the same time, and her eyes were wide and panicked.

“Oh shit. God, I’m sorry. I know not to touch you. Jesus, I shouldn’t touch you at all, regardless of the reasons they explained to me. Fuck!” I hadn’t let go though. Why hadn’t I let go yet?

Em’s eyes focused on my fingers, loosely circling her slim wrist, and suddenly she lunged in my direction, crashing against my chest, burying her face against it as her arms tucked in against me.

She was practically in my lap, and touching me, and what the hell was I supposed to do? Holding her seemed like the natural thing to do, didn’t it? I shouldn’t though. I shouldn’t fucking touch her, but god I wanted to. She needed comfort. She needed me.