For All the Things Left Broken

Chapter 1

TRIGGER WARNING: DEPRESSION, ANXIETY.

Eden's POV

"Have you decided what university you would like to go to?" My dad asked me putting the cutlery down and wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin at the dinner table.

I started poking what was left of the meal with my fork, keeping my head down. It seemed like we had this conversation a million times before. They couldn't understand why I wasn't proactively looking through all the possibilities the future had to offer me. 

"I didn't have time to put much thought into it," I muttered after a moment of silence, a few seconds too long.

From the corner of my eye, I could see my mom sigh and shake her head slightly. The circles under her eyes seemed more prominent this evening, her blouse was wrinkled and her nails were starting to chip. She looked young, but somehow older than she should be. I couldn't help but think that it was because of me.

"You had the whole year to think about it. I thought that was our agreement. Wasn't it?" He raised his eyebrow. "You said you needed to breathe after graduation, maybe travel, focus on yourself and we gave that to you. Did we not? Even though you spent the whole year at home, pent up in your room and did not use the resources we provided you to grow, I believe the deal still stands."

I was really lucky to have a successful businessman for a dad, really. He was great, smart and respected. But in the moments like these, I wanted my choice to be just that, a choice, not a deal or a contract that couldn't be broken.

"We did and it does. I will think about it next week, I promise." I rubbed my forehead without realizing, I was too exhausted to come up with a plan on the spot. I didn't sleep well and my mind wasn't allowing me to take a break. I mentally and physically couldn't think about anything or do anything. Everything made me frustrated, angry and scared. I just didn't want to think about anything for a moment. "Next week I will give you the list of my choices," With that said I stood up and went upstairs to my room.

I closed my door and sat on the window seat, looking out to our neighborhood. I put my earphones in, listening to thunderstorms. I wished they were louder than my thoughts, but they never were.

I ran my fingers through my wavy brown hair, which seemed to be too frizzy every time I touched them. I looked at my reflection, barely noticeable in the window, my green eyes seemed almost grey now. I closed them and leaned back.

I'm so tired.

I heard a quiet knock at my door and turned just as my mom came into the room. Her golden hair seemed to lose the shine, she seemed slimmer as well. I turned my head, wondering if that is the reflection of who I've become.

"Hey darling," She sighed sitting down on my bed, which was slightly further from the window seat. "How are you feeling?" She looked at me with a hopeful expression on her face, her eyes darting towards a piece of paper in her head.

"I'm fine. Just a bit tired." I added the last part in a whisper. I didn't know how to begin to talk about it. Every time I thought about speaking up, I froze. My heart would beat faster, my lungs would be on fire and my eyes would tear up.

I have everything I could ever want. I don't have the right to feel this way.

My mom smiled at me sadly and somehow I knew that she knew. She had that look in her eyes, like she didn't know what to do, how to help, but she wanted to. I didn't know how to let her. I didn't know what needs to be done.

"I saw Anderson today," She started. "He asked about you."

I nodded my head and turned to the window. Miles Parker, my neighbour across the street, was walking home with two boys. One guy looked his age, 19, while the other one seemed around 15. They were playfully shoving each other and laughing.

Besides being neighbours, we went to school together as well. He was always the guy at the back of the class, making everyone, including the teacher, laugh. He seemed so bright, happy. His curly blonde hair went passed his ears now, almost hiding his blue eyes. He was still wearing our school hoodie. His black jeans and white sneakers suited him. I looked and couldn't help but see how handsome he was. I wondered why we never became friends.

"I said that you're well. He looked happy." She added with the same sad smile. I turned to her and returned my own, while she continued speaking about my ex-boyfriend and how good we were together and how sorry she was it ended. I just nodded along, observing the guys across the street.

The guy who seemed to be 15 had Iron Man shirt, matching my own, khaki shorts and sandals on. His black hair was dishevelled, like someone was constantly making sure it was messy. I almost smiled at the thought of him doing that to look "cooler". He was going on about something, while waving his hands all over the place. Miles and his friend seemed to be amused by whatever he was saying. They kept shaking their heads and laughing.

It came so naturally to them. Happiness.

It seemed exhausting to me.

"Eden..." My mom started and I turned to her once again. "I don't know what's going on with you. You barely speak, barely eat, you never go out. I... I don't recognize you anymore." I continued looking at her until she stood up and turned towards the door, but not before giving whatever that was in her hands to me. "It's something that came in the mail today. I would usually throw out things like these, but I thought you might find this helpful." With that said she left the room.

I couldn't help but shake my head, disappointed in myself. I didn't mean for her to think anything was wrong. I didn't want to feel this way. I just can't help it. I'm trying so hard, but it's just not working. I knew she was tired of me.

I sighed and looked towards Miles and his friends again, holding onto the paper she gave me. My breath hitched in my throat.

The last guy that caught my eye took my breath away. He seemed as he always has...  so beautiful. His jet black hair was styled in a way that seemed natural, yet too perfect to be true. He was wearing a light blue shirt under his jacket. His black jeans and boots only added to the look that he had going on. He almost seemed to be a "bad boy", but his smile was too bright to scream "danger". His brown eyes made the time stop.

It took me a second to realize that he was staring at me, the ghost of his smile still lingering. He stopped for a moment, while Miles and Iron Man shirt continued on. He looked at me and I stared back. We stayed like that for a minute. Him, looking at me, and me, looking straight back. None of us moved. I was captivated by his eyes, I couldn't look away. 

He turned on his heel and caught up with his friends after a second or two. I can't believe I stared at him like a lunatic.

I shook my head and took a seat on my bed instead. I looked at the paper my mom gave to me.

After reading through it, I stared at it in the hopes it would somehow catch on fire.

It was a leaflet for group therapy, with the location and times for the meetings, which happened Wednesday and Friday, at 5 pm, at my high school. It was organized by Dr. Harrow, who decided that "Hope" was an appropriate and original name for this "programme".

I looked at the leaflet, at the words scrawled on it, I was too tired for this.

Then I thought of my mom, who looked worse every day, and my dad, who tried his best for my future. Anderson. Miles and his friends, how carefree and happy they seemed.

I looked at the leaflet again and sighed. I crumbled it in my hand and threw it in the trashcan near my table.

I laid back and closed my eyes.

So damn tired.

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samaritans.org

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