The only time that I felt a little weirded out was when we passed Alisa Hanes freshly dug grave. It had no gravestone but we all knew it was hers. It seemed too weird that only a few weeks ago she had smiled at me in the hall and now I was walking over her grave.
We got to the end of the graveyard and sat on the steps of the largest mausoleum. The name Jakep Crowlin was printed over the front of it. He had died in the Victorian era. A large rotting pine tree resided just to the left of the stone structure, its branches threatening to break off in decay.
"Didn't a bunch of kids vanish in here a few years back?" Julian asked.
"They were last seen here," I said. "I don't know if it really happened here, though."
I sat up against the stone wall. Sam sat between my legs and I held her tightly. Julian and Allison went for a walk, but we really knew that "walk" meant "make out". Vlad did his best to look through the dirty window of the mausoleum.
"Do you ever wonder what it's like to die?" Samantha asked, rubbing my knee.
The question took me off guard, even though it shouldn't have. We were in a graveyard amongst the dead after all. When she said that I realized I would probably be buried in this cemetery, if I really did decide to kill myself in May. Probably not too far from where Alisa was buried. It was such a strange and incredibly lonely thought. Eternity in this place?
"Ask Vlad," I finally said, moving into safer territory. "He's the one that once said death is the ultimate high."
Vlad, realizing that he wasn't going to be able get into the crypt, joined us. He grimaced as he sat down, probably from his healing ribs. "I think about it all the time. I wouldn't mind checking out."
I felt Samantha go tense. "You're serious, Gary? You really think your life isn't valuable?"
"I have my moments," Vlad said, staring off into the tombstones. "There are times when I feel that life isn't so bad. And then Ross Morrissey nearly kills me. Sometimes I really would rather be dead."
"You'd just kill yourself?" Sam asked, her voice rising. "You have friends. You have people who care about you. I'm sure your family does."
"My family doesn't give a shit about me," Vlad answered. "Not a day goes by that my father doesn't call me 'faggot'. My Mom pretty much just ignores me. Hell yeah, I'd kill myself. The next life has gotta be better than this one."
"At least it's warm outside tonight," I said in a desperate bid to change the subject. This whole topic was just a bit too close to home to suit my taste.
Sam ignored me. "Do you realize how selfish suicide is? How many people you'll change just by doing it? Everybody who even slightly knew you would feel they might have been able to do something to prevent it. The people around you would have to live with that kind of guilt for the rest of their lives. Could you really do that to the ones who care about you?"
Vlad smiled bitterly. "I didn't say I was going to kill myself anytime soon, Sam. Actually I feel pretty good lately. What Harlan and Julian did for me was cool. I think it was the first time anyone ever did anything for me. I'll tell you what. If I ever decide to shoot myself in the head, I'll talk to Harlan first, okay?" Vlad stood up. "I'm going to check out this place. It's really cool here at night." He walked around the other side of the crypt and Sam and I were alone.
Samantha turned around and wrapped her legs around me. She pulled the fake glasses off of her face. "Hello, you."
I kissed her on the forehead. "Hi. Beautiful night, wouldn't you say, my love?"
Sam pulled the hat off of my head and ran her hands through my hair. "Are you happy, Harlan?"
"Nope," I said jokingly. Only she didn't like the joke at all, judging by the way she flinched and then frowned. I kissed her on the lips. "Of course I'm happy, Sam. I've never been happier. And it's all your fault too."
She hugged me tightly until I could feel her breasts against my chest. "I'm happy too."
Chapter 11:
Things are gonna change in a real big way.
"Of course I'm happy."
Those words were so ironic. It is at this point in my journal that things get decidedly intense. If I had known at that moment that it would be the last time in a while that I would truly be happy and content, then I would have savored it. I would have enjoyed it on a higher level. The rest of the night with Sam and my friends went great. We laughed, talked, and did any usual thing teenagers do.
There is one big problem with me. I am not a normal teenager and my life is far from usual. Just looking over my journal I can see that. Normal teens don't attack much bigger football players in the middle of a stadium and get away with it. Normal teens aren't suicidal. Or are they?
The first reality bomb went off at my house.
I kissed Sam good night as she dropped me off and said goodbye to Julian. Julian was finally able to go home since Ross wasn't really in any condition to hurt him. I must have truly been high on happiness because I didn't notice his car.
What I did notice, however, was the smell—English Leather cologne and Kool cigarettes. To this day I get a pang of fear from the smell of that cologne. It sets off so many memories at once I am overwhelmed. When I walked through the front door the smell instantly transformed me into a weak child. All the dread and dismay were once again burning through my veins.
I instantly became little Harly.
My father was sitting at the kitchen table, lighting a Kool cigarette. A tight tank top failed to hide the muscles and various tattoos that covered his arms and back.
"Well, Harlan," he said, grinning, the sound of his voice reverberating through my head like a horrible dream. "Happy Halloween, son."
I stood there speechless, unable to say a single word. I felt my pulse quicken and the sweat immediately began to bead on my forehead. He was wearing his long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. The cigarette sat on his lips like the fuse of a lit bomb.
Fourteen years of memories barreled through my brain with explosive energy. My legs shook and I thought I heard a whimper escape my lips.
I remembered being nearly drowned in a swimming pool by my father's strong hands and then having him beat me for passing out. I remembered my perpetually black and blue arms, my father's favorite body part to use as his punching bag. I remembered the feel of his leather belt against my bare skin. I remembered the day he forced me into attacking him and then beat me mercilessly for doing it. I remembered him banning books from my life, destroying every one that he found. The taunts and the cruelty. The contemptuous laugh every time he had me cornered. The way he would imitate and mock my cries horribly. The way he made me feel like I was worthless and would be better off dead. I was his unwanted and unloved son.
"Your mother tells me that you've been quite the troublemaker lately, Harlan," he said, blowing smoke and burning holes into me with his cold eyes. "She says she can't control you any longer. Things are gonna change now, Harlan. Things are gonna change in a real big way." He eyed up the Halloween make-up. "Turning into a real sissy now too. I heard that you're hanging out with faggots. If that's true, Harlan, I'll kill you. No son of mine is going to be a cock gobbler, I'll tell you that right here and now."
I stood there with my mouth hanging open as my mother walked into the kitchen and kissed my father on the head. "Me and your father are going to try again, Harlan," she said. "I think he deserves another chance. He's changed."
"Mom are you fucking insane," I muttered weakly as my father's eyes widened. "He just threatened to kill me not even thirty seconds ago."
"Harlan—" she said and was cut off as my father stood up.
"Don't talk to your mother like that, Harlan," my father said matter-of-factly. I noticed the look in his eyes, a look that I'm all too familiar with.
"How can you do this to me, Mom?" I asked her. "I'm finally starting to put myself back together and now you do this."
I turned and walked upstairs. I grabbed a duffel bag and threw a bunch of clothes in it. I also put my journal inside. I was about to walk out when he came in.
He hit me so hard I was airborne and into the wall before I could react. I felt the air rush out of me and I lay against the wall, stunned, my chest throbbing. He knelt down and thrust his unshaven face into mine.
At that moment I felt something shut off inside of me. I couldn't feel anything except anger. We stared at each other with burning hatred, the smell of his cologne stabbing into me.
"Listen you little prick," he hissed, his breath a mixture of nicotine and liquor. "You will respect me. You will respect your mother. You think your life was hell before? I'm telling you right now, Harlan, you screw things up between your mother and me and I will kill you. Literally. I will choke the life out of your fucking faggot body."
He put his hands around my neck and started to squeeze. My tongue protruded out of my mouth involuntarily as I struggled to push him away.
"Do you hear me, Harlan?" he asked, moving his face closer.
I could see little black circles swimming around through the air. He let go of me just as I was about to pass out. I struggled to put some air into my lungs. He slapped me across the face and I felt my lip split open. The taste of my blood hit my tongue like a shot of whiskey.
It was at that moment that I left myself.
"Don't fuck with me, Harlan. You're grounded. The only time you leave this room is when you need to go to the bathroom or eat." He grabbed my phone and yanked it out of the wall. He got up and walked towards the door. He stopped and then turned. "I do love you, Harlan. I am your father. You are my son, you know."
He stepped out of the room and closed the door. I watched the phone cord disappear under the door like a serpent.
I lay there and stared at the wall for what seemed like hours. I could feel the blood trickling down my lip and onto my chin. I could still feel my neck burning from where he had choked me.
Something was wrong with me. Something inside my mind had broken.
For some reason I couldn't feel anything. Even thoughts of Samantha brought nothing. All I could feel was rage. The Screamer had escaped and he wasn't going back in.
I grabbed my bag and quietly opened the door. Across the hall was my mother's bedroom. A clothes iron was sitting on her dresser. Not quite realizing what I was doing I picked it up and went back up into the hallway.
Weapon in hand, I crept quietly down the stairs.
My Dad was holding my mother in his arms, his back turned to me. My mother had her eyes closed so she didn't see me moving towards them. She didn't see me raise the iron back. She opened her eyes and gasped just as I brought it down into the back of his head. Her gasp caused him to move and as a result I slammed the hunk of metal down onto his ear.
The blood squirted into my face as the ear practically ripped from the side of his head. My mother started screaming as my father fell to the floor his hands held to the side of his bleeding head.
I looked down at him coldly. "You're not my fucking father."
I threw the iron into the kitchen and it smashed into the microwave in an explosion of glass. I walked out the door, ignoring the screams of my mother.
I started running as soon as I got to the front of the house, my face splattered with the blood of my father.
I ran across the street and crossed into Suzanne's back yard. She wasn't home so I let myself in through the back door using a key she had hidden under a plant. I didn't turn on any lights. I walked up to the chair and sat down in the dark. After about fifteen minutes, I heard the ambulance. I stared as the lights flashed around me in the dark room.
I was beginning to shut down.
Chapter 12:
Turned off
"He hasn't said anything since I found him here," Suzanne said to Julian. "He just sits there with his eyes open. His lip was bleeding and I cleaned him up a little. His neck is all swollen like someone choked him." She moved up and pointed at my neck. "See? You can still see the hand prints."
"There's no one at his house either," Julian said, staring down at me worriedly. He looked down at my duffel bag. "What does he have in the bag?"
"Just some clothes and his diary," Suzanne said kneeling down before me and running her hands through my hair. She started crying. "What happened to you, Harlan? Please talk to us." She began to kiss my face.
I could see them perfectly. I simply had no desire to talk to them. It was as if I was watching this whole scene on a TV screen miles away. I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't even feel anger any longer. I didn't want to talk to them and I wished they would go away.
"How long has he been here?" Julian asked as he paced around the room. He looked towards the window. "Wait a second. Someone just pulled into Harlan's house. I'll be right back."
I heard the front door open.
Suzanne continued to kiss my cheek and cry all over me. I tried to tell her to just leave me alone and I was startled to find out I couldn't speak.
After a few minutes, Julian came back. "Well, I found out what happened. Harlan attacked his father with an iron. His mother said she's worried about him. His father's over there with a bandage wrapped around the side of his head."
"What the hell is his father doing there?" Suzanne asked him, her voice filling with alarm. "I don't fucking believe it."
"I know Harlan's father abused him," Julian said. "He never liked to talk about it, though."
"That bastard abused him for fourteen years," Suzanne whispered, her fingers rubbing my cheek gently. "It's taking everything I have not to go over there and finish what Harlan started." I just noticed that she was wearing a clown suit and make-up. I had no idea why, though. In my mind I had totally forgotten about Halloween. "Do you think we need to take him to a doctor?"
"No," Julian said and some part of me was relieved. "Actually I have a better idea. I know you're not going to like this seeing how close you and Harlan are and all, but I think we should call Samantha."
"Samantha?" Suzanne asked. "That girl he started seeing about three weeks ago?"
"Suzanne, you don't know how close those two have become. Have you ever seen Harlan smile? I don't mean that smile he uses just to be polite, I mean truly smile. A smile so real you can see it in his eyes. Samantha can make him smile and that's a difficult thing to do. Harlan is one bleak and cynical bastard, you know it and I know it. He truly loves her."
Suzanne got up and grabbed a cordless phone. "I'll do anything if you think it will make him better. Do you know the phone number?"
Julian said he didn't and Suzanne got him a phone book. I vaguely heard Julian telling Sam to come down. I didn't care either way. I had retreated into myself. Crawled deep into a safe area of my mind and stayed there, not wanting to come out.
I heard parts of the conversation between Suzanne and Julian. Something about putting me to bed. Unable to protest, I felt Julian lift me into the air and carry me into the bedroom.
"Jesus, he couldn't weigh more than a hundred pounds," Julian said as he walked.
The next thing I knew, I was staring at the ceiling and the lights went out in the room.
After a short while, I found myself staring into Sam's face. She was whispering something at me and pushing my hair back from my forehead. She kissed me gently on my split lip as she called my name.
"He's not going to hurt you anymore, Harlan," she said, her eyes tearing up. "I promise you he's not going to hurt you. Julian and Suzanne told me about your father." She leaned down and slowly kissed my forehead, letting her lips linger there for a few moments. I felt her teardrops falling into my hair. "Harlan, come back to me. Come back to us. I love you."
I was beginning to feel something, a tiny stirring from somewhere deep inside of me. I felt my hand move over to hers and then I squeezed tightly. She was my strength. I somehow felt whole with her. Almost as if I was only some strange sort of half person without her. No one had ever needed me. Certainly not anyone in my family.
I felt her stiffen as I squeezed her warm palm.
Then I lost control.
It started
with a heave in my body, followed by an involuntary shudder. I felt a sob escape my lips almost like a cough and then I just completely fell apart. I began to weep so hard it took all my physical energy just to do it. Fourteen years of holding back with no one to help me. Fourteen years of pain poured out of me while Sam held me that morning. She held me tightly, her arms shaking with strength.
In that brief moment, I had returned and felt emotion with every cell of my body. I felt myself wailing inside with relief at the avalanche of pain that I had held inside of me. Sam held my shivering body and refused to let go. I held her back feeling like I would not be able to survive without her.
I felt that I was no longer Harlan, but some strange mixture of herself and I. She gave me strength at a time that I would have died without it. I realize now that had she not been there for me, than I might have never returned. I might have stayed at that safe place deep within my psyche, refusing to come out into a world that would only try to hurt me again. I would have stayed in the place that little Harly had visited so often when things got too dark.
I fell asleep soon after, completely exhausted. When I awoke, she was still there. Sam seemed to sense that I was awake because her eyes opened instantly.
"How are you, Harlan?" she asked.
I actually did feel much better. "Thank you, Sam," I said, stretching. My back was still sore where my father had thrown me into the wall. I wondered just how badly I had mangled his ear. I hope I mutilated the bastard.
"Don't you dare thank me, Harlan," she said, rolling to the side and putting her arms around me. "I love you. I couldn't have done anything else. Of course, my Mom is going to kill me when she finds out that I didn't sleep at home last night."
I frowned. "You didn't call her? Great, she's going to love me now. Good old unstable Harlan Sexton."
She kissed me and got out of bed. "I'm going to go now, but I'll be back in a couple hours." She stopped and stared at me oddly as if I was slowly fading away or something. "Are you going to be all right, Harlan?"
HARLAN Page 10
