Permanent Scars

Kids In The Dark

November 3, Sunday. 6:37 a.m.

If this is because of what happened Thursday night I'm really sorry.

November 4, Monday. 8:51 a.m

Please say something.
Please answer.
Don't ignore me.

November 5, Tuesday. 12:46 p.m.

Just say something.
Anything.
Anything to let me know we're still okay.
Anything to let me know YOU are still okay.

November 6, Wednesday. 4:20 p.m.

Still not answering, huh?
What if I call you?
Will you answer then?

4:30 p.m.
I am going to call, so
pick up your phone.
Answer me.
I just need to know everything is alright.

November 7, Thursday. 5:47 a.m.

Look, I know I haven't been easy to deal with lately, but
I'm really worried about you and I just want you to
respond and let me know you're okay.
Please don't shun me...

After sending this message, I turn my phone over, feeling desperate and knowing he will never respond. It's too early in the morning, and besides that, he hasn't shown up to school all week, nor has he answered my calls or texts. I just want to know everything's fine, that this isn't my fault. Because right now, everything feels like it's my fault. The bullying has grown worse as the week wears on. I still feel horrible for the way I treated him after the vandalism incident. He was so kind, so patient. And like an idiot, I went and threw it in his face when all he wanted to do was help me and be there for me. Why am I such a mess? Why can't I do anything right? Why can't Daddy just come home? Where is my cat? Why won't Adam respond? What's wrong with him?

I bite my lip to keep from crying and my phone vibrates with an incoming call. An unknown number shows up on the screen. Heart thudding, I answer it skeptically.

"He-hello?"

Dylan's timid voice enters my ears. "Hey, uh...it's Dylan. I don't know if you can, uh, hear me..."

"I hear you. Hi Dylan. What's up?"

"Um, just called to let you know that I found Adam."

"Is he okay?"

"He's home. So, uh, yeah, I guess he's okay."

"I've been trying to contact him all week. He won't answer."

"I know. I told him that. He told me he was giving you space. Said he felt like that's what you two need right now."

   I cover my mouth to keep a sob from escaping. Adam's wrong. We don't need space.

   "Why would he say something like that?"

   "Look, I can't tell you. I'm sorry. He feels it's best. But I've got to go. See you tomorrow?"

Do I detect some hesitancy?

"Sure," I let out a shaky breath. "Thanks for calling."

   "Uh, no problem. Take care."

   "Wait, Dylan—?"

   The line goes dead. Quickly, I add his number to my contacts list. Just in case.

   I was going to ask him if he knows why Adam is acting strange all of a sudden. Past week he seemed rather normal. In good graces. Supportive, determined to keep things upbeat and positive. Then he got that phone call, left my house in a mad dash. Didn't take time to explain or say goodbye.