Chapter 9: Crash Into Blackness

I combed through my hair slowly and then washed off my face. I decided I would take my time, and show up a little late. My hair caught and tore at the ends, and I experimented with it one way, and found that it made me look like I was hit across the face with a tornado. I tugged through it back to where it naturally rested, and left it alone. Not like it mattered. It was Samantha. She would take me back. I was confident. She was over there now just dying to see me. Just waiting. Silently waiting.

I grabbed my keys from the bowl on the counter and made my way to the front door. I grabbed the handle and slid out casually into the hot sun. My black hair fried in the heat, and suddenly I felt like I was on fire. The heat felt unbearable. Maybe Cliff had gone to the beach.

I slid into the car, and things were worse. If the air had been fire before, now it was magma. Perspiration began to seep through the skin on my upper lip, and down from my hairline. Walking would be fine. It would be just fine. At least, after I changed my shirt it would.

When I stepped back out of the house I had on a thin, white, deep v-neck. It was actually bearable on my back. My scalp was still burning. Suddenly, I had a good idea. I would stop by the store sometime, and I would get hair bleach. It was time for a total change. It was time for a different person.

I made my way jogging down the street, and trying to ignore the heat. Now, I thought constantly of my awkward shape, and how to try and change it. I was already about ten minutes late, but Samantha would not care.

The sun blazed down, and made it look as though everything in the distance was under water. I slowed by jogging back down into a walk. It was too hot to jog. As I began to near Samantha’s house I grew excited, and anxious. I couldn’t wait. In fact, I did a couple of cartwheels down the street, and finally ended by walking onto my hands, then springing back onto my feet. An old couple down the street shook their heads and walked inside their house. The man was wearing pants. Pants and a long-sleeve button up shirt. It made me almost miss Cliff for a moment, even though I saw him around half of the normal day. He would always point out something like that.

I strolled up Samantha’s driveway, and a creeping barren feeling crept into me. I felt empty. The whole thing, trying to get with Samantha, seemed so far fetched when I was so close to it.

No. It wasn’t time for that. I pushed it to the back of my thoughts and brought on the best fake confidence my acting skills could conjure. I stuck my chest out just as I had by the caves on the cliff. I threw my head back in an arrogant manner, and puffed my lower lip out. Now was not the time to be nervous. Now was not the time to be geeky old Austin Carter.

Still, I could feel a sweat that did not come from the heat. A cold chill gripped my soul in the burning summer heat. Yet I kept my chin up, and I kept my chest out. I walked up onto the porch, and rang the doorbell.

I tried my best to manage my breathing. Now that I was out of the sun, I could feel the sweat beading on my forehead. I wiped it away with my forearm, and brushed it onto the leg of my shorts.

“Hello,” came the small voice from within.

“Hi.”

“Just hold on and let me unlatch the door.”

After some effort, the screen door swung open, and I had to step back to avoid being hit. A woman in her mid-forties stood in the doorway.

“Hello.”

“Are you here to see Samantha?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, just let me go get her. Step inside.”

I took a step into the cool house, and suddenly, my sweat started up again, and beaded. Again, I brushed it away.

“Hold on, her room’s upstairs. Just make yourself comfortable. Sit down. Please.”

I collapsed into a leather recliner against the wall beside me. The television ran on some news channel. Weather said we were expecting more heat.

“Sam!” I heard her call up the steps. “Sam! Get down here! That boy from your class is here!”

She strode back into the room, smiling. Her yellowed teeth matched her hair, and stuck out against her skin.

“What’s your name again?”

“Austin. Austin Carter.”

She strode out of the room, humming to herself.

“Samantha Anne! Austin’s down here! Get down here!” Her footsteps sounded on the stairs, and I heard her leave up into the floor above.

I looked around the room. Pictures of Samantha and her mother were everywhere. Samantha’s bright red hair seemed to light up the room, except in a couple of pictures of her with her dyed hair.

I waited. I slowly waited. I thought about it. Everywhere I was, I was waiting. I was out of the cycle, that was obvious. Yet I was still waiting. Was that all we were ever doing? Just sitting here, waiting. Slowly waiting for things to happen. I realized why I had been so sad. Happiness was for the people who were too busy to be sad. I wasn’t busy. I was in a cycle. I was always waiting. When you’re waiting, you’re not busy. Therefore, I was sad. I was depressed and lonely as I waited for something to happen. Really, I should have been out making things happening, and occupying my time with that.

She came back down the steps.

“I don’t thing Samantha’s here, actually. I wonder where she could have gone. Supper’s going to be ready soon, anyway.”

“She’s gone?”

“She’s not in the house. I’m sorry. I’ll tell her you stopped. I will as soon as she gets back.”

“No, it’s fine. You don’t have to tell her, it wasn’t anything important, anyway.”

“Alright. Well, thanks for stopping. Would you like some water?”

“No thanks, ma’am.”

“Well, it’s awfully hot out.”

“I only live a few blocks away. Thanks anyway, ma’am.”

“Alright. Well, bye Austin.”

“Bye, ma’am. Thank you again.”

“Any time.”

I waited until I was out of the house to be angry.

Samantha. Why would she? How could she? That bitch! Not only was I rejected, but she ran out of her house to avoid me! I was a awkwardly shaped piece of shit. That was all I ever would be. Ever. I was disgusting. Right away, I ran home. Today wasn’t going to be a bad day. I wouldn’t let it. I was done waiting. Now was my time to rise. I was finally going to be something, and one little girl who used me in the junior year was not going to stop me.

As soon as I was in, I grabbed my keys from the bowl, and rushed back out. There was only a moment of coolness before I stepped back outside. It was 4:11. An hour drive up to Saco, a couple minutes in the beauty supply, and an hour drive back. I’d be back by 6:30. That was plenty of time.

I stepped into the burning hot car. It was almost searing pain. I braced it. I could feel my face boiling with rage. I slammed my fists against the wheel, and turned the key in the ignition, and then quickly rolled down my window. Samantha. That bitch. I’d show her. I’d show the whole school that was filled with kids who talked shit about me.

I slammed my foot on the gas, and sped away toward Saco.

All throughout highschool, they made fun of me. I could hear them constantly. It was like they didn’t even try and hide it from me. It was as if they wanted me to know that they hated me. No. Not anymore. I wasn’t highschool Austin Carter. I was me. A new me. And I needed a new look to be the new me.

Now, I felt like I was falling, like my broken wing had not entirely mended. I felt like I had been soaring too high. Now, I was falling back down. Yet, not without a fight.

“Chase your dreams. Just don’t get hurt. Don’t let everything else slip away from you.” I repeated Cheyenne’s words out loud in the car.

“Don’t get hurt.”

I remembered what she told me. It, meaning depression, was going to make me not want to do anything, like everything was pointless and futile. I knew that. I had felt it and experienced it firsthand. Now I knew that I could resist it. I just had to stay afloat. I had to remain positive. I had to overcome it.

Happiness is for those who are too busy to be sad. So I was going to get hair bleach. Saco wasn’t too far, and it kept me busy. It kept me happy.

As soon as I returned with a bottle of bleach, the sun seemed to cool down. Things felt a lot better outside, and my rage was quickly repressed and hidden within me. Now, I was happy. I tried as hard as possible to be busy, and to be happy. Cliff was standing inside when I got in.

“Hey, where have you been?”

“Saco.”

“Doing what?”

“Shopping.”

“For?”

I held the bag up.

“This.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

Cliff’s questions were always chronic. When he wanted to know something, he didn’t care about what others thought, he asked. He always told people his thoughts, and he always told the truth.

“It’s clearly something, Austin.”

“You’ll see.”

“Alright.”

I waited for him to leave. I waited. Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling the best. Just the thought of waiting brought up a whole chain of thoughts that slowly brought the depression back.

“Well, I have to go to the bathroom.”

“You don’t look so good.”

I longed to tell him what was wrong. Yet, my motto stayed: ‘Keep your head up, and don’t let them know you’re dying.’ I was never good at telling people my feelings, anyway. It was easier to just bottle them up.

“I’m feeling a little sick.”

“Long night?”

“Not much sleep.”

“Man, kid. You’ve gotta get some more sleep in. I was about to take a shower. Here, you look like you could use one. Go ahead.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Alright, well, get better.”

He walked away into his room. I had let my guard slip and almost let the blackness over me. The blackness. That’s what the depression felt like. A cool nothingness that you couldn’t escape from. I gave myself a moment to regain my positive side. I thought of the good aspects of life.

I had a good friend like Cliff. I was going to college. I was actually doing something now. Even if I had an awkward body, I was still working on it. I would have abs eventually. Eventually, things would be better. I just had to keep up.

A smile stayed plastered on my face and I walked into the bathroom. I opened up the plastic bag, and the plastic seal on the bleach. It was the highest volume I could find. I mixed the powder and developer into a glass bowl sitting on the counter, and put petroleum jelly around my hairline. Rubber gloves were kept in the closet, and I put a pair on. Slowly, I began to use the bleach. I was about to use it on the back, but I decided to test some of my hair first. I stranded a section on the side of my head. It went from my ear to about two inches up, and I bleached it. And I waited. And the blackness slowly began to creep, as I head a strange sound coming from the room over.

“Next time, warn me.” I could remember saying down by the rocks. He hadn’t warned me, not even a hint. What was worse, I recognized the woman he was with. The darkness spread over me, and I felt myself being sucked back down to earth. I was in reality now. The cruel, heartless center of reality.

I crashed. I was a bird that had fallen down from the sky, almost like I was shot. Shot by Cliff. Or perhaps Samantha. Or perhaps the world. Now, I laid down on the ground, figuratively and literally. The figurative bled from the wound. The literal’s wound was not so obvious, but concealed within.

I slammed my fists into my shapeless stomach until it bruised. Tears began to fall from my eyes. I slammed them into the cabinet. My fists felt for the first shelf in the closet, and came down hard on it. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. I wanted to breathe fire. I wanted to attack. Yet they were there, and they would hear. My fists came down a second time, and the right one pulsed in pain. I grabbed it, with the glass still stuck inside the wound.

I gritted my teeth and picked the sharp object out. Slowly, my crying stopped. I looked at my reflection in the fragment of the old jar, and I set it against my wrist. I pressed down, and my brain began to swim. I was ready to slice, but my hand wouldn’t move.

“Austin! What the fuck?!”

Oh God. Shit. Shit. Shit!

I rushed over and snatched the glass from my hand. Tears were ready to fall, but I held then back, and instead let out a high-pitched whining noise.

“Dude! What were you doing?!”

When I didn’t answer, he fell to his knees and wrapped his arm around me. He was in his underwear, and Samantha stood behind in the doorway with her hand over her mouth. I felt embarrassed. The moment Samantha looked into my eyes, I let a single tear fall.

“Austin! Why would you do this? What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong!”

I shook my head and let the tears stream down through gritted teeth.

“Tell me what’s wrong! Come on! Now!”

I shook it again, and let out another squeaky sob.

“Tell me! Austin, tell me now! Come on, this is fucking serious! You were cutting yourself! Look! Look at the blood! You can’t ignore this! Tell me what’s wrong!”

“No!”

“Dude, tell me!”

I pushed him away and covered my face with my hands.

“Listen, you better leave, Samantha.”

She remained there, with her eyes as wide as her mouth.

“Go.”

She stood there.

“Go!”

She looked up at him stupidly.

“Samantha! Get the fuck out of my house! Now!”

She slowly backed out of the room, and went to get her clothes.

“Austin. Come on. Just tell me.” His voice sounded strained and quaky. I could tell he was trying his hardest to keep it together.

“Please, buddy. Come o-” and his voice shattered much like the glass jar had.

“No. I’m fine here.”

“Look. You’re not. Wether you like it or not, you cut yourself.”

“I did not.”

“Ya did to, now come on, you’re my best friend.”

I showed him the cut on my hand.

“We could hear you banging around in here. Tell me what’s wrong. I’m really worried.”

A tear formed into his eye. I had never seen Cliff cry before, nor did I want to. I tried to look at the holes in his ear lobes to avoid his eyes, but it didn’t work. They moved to his stubble, but focused on his quivering lip.

“Cliff, it’s... it’s not...”

“Come on, let’s go.”

I wrapped my arms around him, and suddenly felt sleepy.

“What’s in your hair?”

“Bleach.”

Suddenly I remembered how you weren’t supposed to have hair dye in when you bleached it, but my hair was already artificially black. I washed it out in the sink, and Cliff sat on the ground with his knees up to his chin.

“Why’d you do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s bullshit. Come on, Austin. You’re like my brother. I love ya, man. Just tell me. I’m worried, is all.”

“It’s complicated.”

“No it isn’t. Bottling your emotions like this is terrible for you. Just tell me. Please?”

I stood in the mirror and looked at my reflection. The bleach had turned it an ugly orange. Without thinking, I took out the scissors.

“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

I cut off the hair. I had seen people who had shaved one side of their head before. The shaved off about two inches above their ear, and about an inch behind. I kept cutting all around until I had an entire section down to about a half an inch. Then I took out a razor.

“Alright, let’s see...” I said, trying to change the subject.

“Don’t change the subject. Here. Let me help you.”

I wrapped my arms around him again, and didn’t let go. The tears streamed down my face, and I could feel his tears stream down onto my back. He breathed heavily and uneasily.

“Hey, Cliff?”

“W-what?”

“I... I wanted to kill myself.”

“You were going to kill yourself?!”

“No! No! Before! I wanted to before! I’d never kill myself. Trust me.”

“I can’t.”

“Please? You’re my best friend. I love you, too, man. Come on, It’s a lot better now. Trust me.”

“Dude, I’m so sorry. I should’ve...”

“It’s not your fault. Things are just so... I don’t know.”

“Come on.”

He had finished shaving. He led me into my room, and I collapsed onto the bed. Instantly, I began to drift off.

“Night, buddy. See ya tomorrow.”

When I didn’t answer, he shut off the light, and walked to the kitchen to get a couple beers.

Or. Maybe a little more than a couple. When I woke up the next morning, he was sleeping on the porch, with the bottles emptied at his feet. I could feel it. The blackness had completely blanketed me. It had restrained me, and I was being held under it. Again I felt like there was no escape. Maybe there wasn’t. Maybe I was doomed to be in the blackness for eternity. At least I was out of the cycle.

I felt another thing even stronger. It was sure. I was aware of it, because I knew exactly what it felt like. I had crashed hard. Now, I felt even more broken than before. I knew this had been a long journey to where I was now, but I also knew that it was only beginning.