In My Head

Break and Burn ~ Kaden

Mom pulls into the garage and parks the car. "Alright, let's get to unpacking," she says, her voice dripping with fake enthusiasm.

We file through the side entrance, past the stairs, and into the kitchen. The whole house is crammed with boxes. Logan kneels in front of a box labeled Kitchen and peels the tape off. I kneel next to him. The box is full of glasses in bubble wrap.

"Why don't you leave the kitchen to me," Mom says, and I know exactly what she's thinking. I might go down and break something.

Logan stands. "Hey, Mom, where did the movers put my drum kit?"

"In that apartment above the garage. It will be like your own private music studio."

"Sweet!" Logan spins around toward the narrow staircase.

"Logan, it's three o'clock," Mom says.

Logan stops in his tracks and furrows his eyebrows at her. She tilts her head at me and clears her throat.

"Oh," Logan says. "You need to take your meds," he tells me.

I roll my eyes at him, but I honestly forgot. I step over to my pill organizer on the breakfast counter. I pop open the little plastic box labeled Wednesday Afternoon. Scoop out the three pills, shove them into my mouth, wash them down with a swig from the water bottle on the counter. Try not to think about how pointless it feels to take these damn pills. I need them.

Mom rubs my back. "You can take a nap on the couch," she says.

I shrug her off, even though the thought crossed my mind too. "I slept the whole way down. I'm gonna put my clothes away," I say with my back to her.

"I'll come with you."

"Don't. I can handle it." I leave the kitchen and go across the great room. The house feels weird, like it's different somehow, now that all our stuff is here. Not really home, but somehow familiar, like a new shirt when you take it off at the end of the day. When you decide if you ever want to wear it again.

At least with shirts you have a choice.

I go through the doorway. Pull the door shut after me. Lean back against it. The room is packed-my bed frame and mattress lean against the wall near the window, my desk takes up the middle of the room, my dresser blocks the closet door, and one of the two couches from our old basement sits against the nearest wall. Every inch of floor space is covered with boxes. I slide down the door to the floor.

I shove my shaking hand into my pocket and pull out the medical records and Lissa's letter. I should probably take the forms to school, so I crawl over to the box with my school stuff and open it up. Most of this box is art stuff. I find my backpack underneath a bunch of sketch books and put the forms in a side pocket. Instead of reading Lissa's letter, I go back to the box and pick a sketch book, flipping through the pages. Of course, I find a drawing of her.

This is probably the best drawing of Lissa I ever did, but the pose makes it look like she was about to break down into tears. I drop the drawing on the floor, but I can't look away. I stare at her until my eyes start to burn.

Dear Kaden,

I know you think moving is the worst thing in the world, but staying here won't change anything. Everyone says you'll get better in California. There's always the chance that your new doctor could help you get your life back. Even if you only get a little bit better, it will be worth it.

I wish I could be there with you... but we can still text. Facetime me every day, okay? I want to know how things are going for you. I'll never be too busy to talk, ever.

I did some more research online. It's amazing how much information is out there. Be sure to ask your new doctor about the Ketogenic diet and surgery options. Without me and Jake, you'll need to speak up for yourself. No matter what, you need to stand up to your mom, okay? If you're strong, I know you can get your life back under control so you can come back home. Just believe in yourself.

I have to be honest. I'm really worried about you. I won't pretend like I didn't notice that it's getting worse. I know this is really hard for you, but I'll always be here for you. If you ever need to talk, my ears are always open, even at five in the morning. Call me as soon as you can. I can't wait to hear from you! I love you so much!

♥ Lissa ♥

I take a ragged breath. A tear falls down my face and gets caught on the edge of my lip. Even when we're miles apart, even when I tried to set her free, she's still trying to take care of me. It's just not fair. She thinks I'm going to come home as soon as I get better, but that's not going to happen. No matter what I do, I'm stuck here. And talking to her when I can't be with her-that would break me apart. I just can't do that to myself or to her.

I fold the letter back up and start to put it back into my pocket, but I stop. I turn back to the box of school stuff and shuffle around for my old charcoal tin. I dump the tin out on the carpet-three joints in a baggie and a yellow Bic lighter.

I switch the lighter on and run the flame along the edge of Lissa's letter. It catches fire, and I drop it into the tin. That one little piece of paper flares up higher than I expected, almost a foot off the floor. Then the paper shrivels up, grayish black, and the fire is gone. I take the joints out of the baggie so I can use it to hold Lissa's letter. The burnt paper is fragile and flaky, but still in one piece. I get it in the bag without breaking it.

I zip the baggie shut and put everything back into the tin-the burnt letter, the joints, and the lighter. It almost seems pointless to keep this. Lissa says weed is an effective alternative treatment, but with the way my life is going right now, all it will do is give me an asthma attack. Besides, I'm never going to get a chance to smoke it. I've been alone for maybe five minutes, which means someone's going to come check on me any second. I put the lid back on the tin and hide it in the bottom drawer of my dresser. Then I squeeze around all the boxes and go open the window to get rid of the burnt paper smell.

I wish it was that easy to forget.

Thanks for continuing to read this story with me. I hope you are getting a good feel for why Kaden is so pissed at his parents for making him move. I cannot even imagine how mad I'd be! Can you relate in any way to what he is going through?

Thanks for voting and commenting. I will come by and read your writing too as a way to say thank you for making me feel like I'm not going crazy talking to myself. I appreciate it!

* Art by DrawingByTony on DeviantArt.