Just One More Day

Just One More Day -- On Growing Up

A teenage boy roused from his bed in the dead of night as a threatening storm approached. The cold wood floor creaked underfoot as he edged towards the slightly open window. The nippy winter breeze bit at the leaves of an old willow tree and left them quivering in fear, but otherwise the night was quiet and dead. The sky was void of stars, the wind didn't sing through the grass and the fireflies didn't dance to the rhythmic chanting of crickets.

He wondered if the stars and the lively insects were actually there and it was just him who was blind to their opulence. His heart sunk at the thought of being different and his mind flooded with the memories of when he was just like everyone else. But it all felt so distant. It must have been months since he last felt normal... or felt anything at all for that matter.

He turned his attention to his reflection in the window and tried to consider himself from another person's perspective. He was relatively popular and he had gotten used to the girls gazing at him, but when he looked at himself all he could see was the bloodshot red of his eyes that reminded him of a vulture's featherless head, and the dark bags under them, that could have been its ruffled wings. He saw nothing past this carrion companion that clouded his mind. The fear of feeling nothing gnawed on his thoughts as he turned his attention back to the darkness outside.

He wondered how much it would hurt if he fell from his second story window. The prospect of serious pain was unnerving, but he was enticed by the thought of experiencing real pain again after all of these months he'd spent feeling lifeless. He hesitated for a moment as he tried to control the bird, "Just one more day" he whispered to himself. But he simply didn't have the energy to fight so instead he braced himself and reluctantly pressed his hand against the window to push it further open. The rusty hinges shrieked like a wounded animal and echoed through the old house. With tears of defeat in his eyes he prepared to open the cage of the vulture that shared his head and haunted him. He could already feel the wild presence waiting eagerly to take full control and burst through the window to its freedom; leading to the boy's inevitable plummet to the paving below. He took a breath and counted down.

One.
Time seemed to slow.
Two.
He watched the vulture thrashing in its cage.
Three.
He exhaled and unlocked the cage.

He saw the bird dive out the window. He felt the adrenaline coursing through his blood. He noticed every muscle contracting in his legs as he leapt onto the window frame.
Just as he was about to throw himself forward, his bedroom door opened and he twisted vehemently to face the unwelcomed guest.

"Son?" The boy's father cried, "Son! What are you doing?"

The boy hesitated, unwilling to answer his father honestly but finally mumbled, "I... I guess I was sneaking out. I'm sorry."

The father cocked his head in disbelief but his face soon softened with understanding. "Son, you can't sneak out of this. But I know you can push through it." He paused in anticipation of his son's response but was greeted with silence so he sighed. "You know your mother is sick so I really must go back to her... Please just promise me, 'one more day,' Son. Just one more day." He gave the boy a brief hug before leaving the room solemnly.

"Yes, Father." The boy said, disappointment leaking into his words.

He crawled back into bed and pulled the blanket over his head. He wished for sleep as always, but like always sleep didn't come. He hoped that being awake would at least keep him safe from the torment of his nightmares, but awake or asleep, they were always with him. The darkness was always the home of fear. Like a repugnant breeding ground for suffering that produced an unending horde of malignant offspring. He closed his eyes in a vain attempt at blocking out the pain of his own imagination. It made him feel safer, but he never felt safe enough. Even his closed eyes and armour made from blankets weren't enough to hold off the seemingly endless waves of memories. Every mistake he'd ever made in his life came back to him now and haunted him.

"Leave me alone. Leave me alone." He repeated quietly through gritted teeth. "I didn't ask for this. What do you want? Leave me alone...." His mind flooded with images of dark figures standing over his bed that spoke in unison.

"It was your fault. They don't want you anymore. Your friends are leaving you. You're alone because of what you did." They chanted.

He whimpered but soon agreed. It was his fault that he forgot his mother's birthday. It was his fault that his friends were happier when he wasn't around. It was his fault that he was never good enough. Again he felt hopeless, but he still didn't care. So what? What was left for him to lose? Was it really worth it?

Again the teenage boy roused from his bed. The cold wood floor creaked under his foot with every step he took towards the still completely opened window. The leaves of the willow tree were still shaking. The relentless wind continued to whip and bite at them, but not a single leaf fell. They fought the pain and torture that the wind brought and held firmly to their branch. But the vulture fought for its freedom, so the boy stepped back onto the window frame. He looked down to the brick floor below that beckoned for him to jump then turned his gaze up to watched the leaves in the distance.

He thought about the courage of the leaves that refused to fall and found his own courage in them. If a mere leaf could withstand the torment of the unrelenting wind, he could withstand the torment of the vulture that circled his mind. "Just one more day." He said with conviction before he stepped down from the window and closed it.