White box

A book to start it all

'White box' by August Gold was the book her brother kept reading over and over, so Stephanie went to the library and borrowed it.

That's how she learned that her brother wanted to die.

Under well-crafted words, metaphors, and many people, there was a clear message - your body is a white box, tear it open, and let yourself out.

No matter how Stephanie looked at it, it was a book written by someone who also wanted to die - who felt like he was surrounded by people who wanted to use him and people who put shackles on him. Only those two types. The author didn't believe in love or life. This book was a dream of many ways and many reasons for breaking the box open.

A beautiful book, yet also a somber one. It saw the world black and white, and silent, missing all color, flavor, or sounds. Stephanie could appreciate it as a well made black and white movie. She loved reading, so she could give it that, but she felt sorry for the author and even more sorry for her little brother.

Timothy was a silent kid; he liked to sit in obscure forums and build little clocks, he often went to junk shops, yard sales and the like picking up broken timepieces, then he would disassemble them and create something new out of the details.

It didn't always work, but sometimes it did. So his room always had a slightly mismatched hum of ticking in it.

Timothy was very thin - he didn't like eating, he did it only as a chore, Timothy was also often with circles under his eyes - he didn't like sleeping either. It was likely to do with his dreams, walking past his room at night, Stephanie knew Timothy sometimes talked in his sleep, saying 'sorry,' 'stop it,' at times even crying.

Stephanie and Timothy did not go to the same schools - she had shown musical gifts early, so her school was specialized for that, Timothy's was a regular one. Stephanie wondered if something was going on in his school and tried to get to know a girl from there just to ask. 

The girl said it was hard to tell - that her brother seemed a bit odd and silent, but that there was also one kid he was friends with, and if there was bullying, then it was either well hidden or not too obvious.

Stephanie tried to figure if it was something to do with their parents. Dad was away early, back late, but he did love them and took them on family trips and the like, compared to her friends in school, she had one of the better dads. Mom was a housewife; she was often home, but also liked to go to wife meetings and the like - she always made sure they had healthy meals, but otherwise, she did a lot of reading. Stephanie didn't see much of anything bothersome either - she too loved them, as evidenced by the care she put in the house.

It was true her relationship with Timothy was on the cold side, but it wasn't because she hated him or had anything against him, he just-- stopped talking with her and spent less and less time with her, with their parents as well and just locked himself in his room making clocks. He tried to avoid them all. Even on family trips, he got a book, put on headphones, and even if he was around in his body, his mind was not around them.

He didn't show outright hate. He just - tried to escape.

He tried to leave the white box.

At one point, Stephanie came home each day, afraid that the clocks in his room would stop ticking. For some reason, she had a feeling that when Timothy goes, they would all stop. While standing by the door, she listened in if there were any sounds of keyboard clicking or anything of that sort and always let out a relieved breath if there was.

And then one day, the clocks had stopped their ticking.

Stephanie's stomach churned, and she ran in a few steps only to notice Timothy-- by the fridge-- eating her pudding. With a blissful expression on his face.