Easy Is the Descent

Why are we this way? she wrote at breakfast.
Why does Minnie want to burn things down?
Why am I so afraid to talk?
Why does it feel like Gerard is pulling away? The only people who seem truly happy are Frank and Tarra.
They are both leaving here soon. Frank has already passed his evaluation. He said he's been here for a year. Tarra has been here for three. I guess she just felt safer in here than out in the real world. I've noticed lately that she no longer talks to her purple people.
I wonder what they will do without each other. Frank is from New Jersey, Tarra from Missouri. How will their relationship survive?
And how will I survive with out them here?

She shut the diary and looked up at her friends. She smiled, lunch and dinner were what she looked forward to. It was like being in the cafeteria at school all over again. She missed her friends.The ones that stopped talking to her after her parent's deaths; either because they didnt know what to say, or because she was slowly saying nothing to them.
She clenched her eyes shut; put her head on the table. She would miss them.

A hand on her shoulder and she looked up quickly, surprised that she wasn't lashing out. Tarra had come to sit at her left, Frank at her right.

"It's gonna be okay, you know?" Tarra said with a smile.

"After Tarra turns eighteen she's moving out to Jersey with me," Frank smiled, looking at the girl fondly.

"You'll come too?" Tarra asked.

"Just as soon as you get out?" Frank added.

She nodded, a smile spreading across her face. Maybe this was her family. As imperfect and crazy as it was. Tarra was her mother, Frank her father. Nell was the little sister, Minnie her crazy cousin. And then there was Gerard. She wasnt sure what he was to her, but she knew he belonged.

In group therapy Heaven scratched on a notepad. When it was her turn she turned it to the surprised room.

My parents died.
My legal guardian is abusive.

Baby steps.

She smiled ruefully at the room, waving her hand for someone else to go.

When she went to her appointment with Dr. Roberts he said that it was a break through. That soon she would be using her voice to talk about her problems. She smiled at him though she wasnt so sure.
She began to wonder what her voice sounded like. She hadn't heard it in a year.

~~~*~~~

Frank was released the week before Thanksgiving. Tarra cried after he left. She said that she'd had to wait until he left because she didn't want him to feel bad. Frank called her several times a day, every day that week. The art classes seemed empty without Frank, Tarra seemed less. Heaven wondered if she did too.

On Thanksgiving Tarra talked to Frank for an hour before pressing the phone happily to Heaven's ear. Frank kept her on for twenty minutes telling her everything that had happened in his life in the last week. She was smiling when she finally put the phone in it's cradle.
Tarra held her hand as they went to lunch. Heaven crunched on her croutons that day looking around.

She wondered where Gerard was.

When he didnt show for dinner she grew worried. He hadn't left had he? She sighed to herself and put on a fake smile for Tarra. Her friend was busy talking about Frank. Heaven wished she could talk too. Surely Tarra would get lonely with just Heaven and Gerard around. Her wish was answered. In a way.

Minnie and Nell chose that moment to join them for Thanksgiving dinner. The conversation was more lively after that.

~~~*~~~

Heaven had slowly been filling the journal up. She had written about the first time her Godfather had taken advantage of her. Her memories from birthdays past. The last three days were her worries over Gerard. He had yet to show up since the day before Thanksgiving. When she had checked his room it was empty; though his things were still in it. Finally she decided to ask a nurse.

"Haven't you heard yet? Infirmary."

The trek to what was the equivalent of the nurses office in school was long and lonely. She couldn't take Tarra with her. Gerard was hers and this was hers to do alone. The puke green walls made her sick. He shouldn't be here, shouldn't have to see that color each time his eyes open.

He was paler than usual. His wrists were covered in gauze.
Didn't take a genius to figure out what that meant. Suicide.
Heaven looked down on him, stomach swirling.
But why?

Tears filled her eyes. She wondered if she would see those pretty amber eyes again as she instinctively reached out for his hand. His hands were stiff and cold under her fingertips. She thought he was dead, opened her mouth to scream. His chest rose and she sighed in her head.

Wake up Gerard, she mouthed.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, pulling her chair as close to the bed as she could. She pushed her nose into her shoulder. He smelled like sweat and Lysol and something that was just him. Ink and cold night air. She shivered, closing her eyes. Her journal was tucked between the chair and her hip and it dug in painfully but she had soon fallen asleep.

She woke to pressure on her hand. Her eyes flew open to see amber and she smiled softly.

"Gerard" she tried to say. Nothing came out, just a whine that made her throat ache. She squeezed his hand back and moved as close as she could to him. Moved so that she was closer to him.

She could feel his breath on her face. She smiled again and mouthed, "Hi."

He mouthed it back, gave her a small smile and she felt her heart jump into her ribcage. A nurse came to shoo her out at lights out and she left Gerard clutching her diary to his chest. They shot each other one more smile and she was forced back to her room. She slept through the night, Gerard's eyes the object of her dreams.

The next day Gerard was moved from the infirmary to isolation. They let him keep Heaven's journal. He refused to let it go. He spent his week in the padded room reading eveything she had poured into it. Everything in it that was personal that she was willing to share with him. He traced his fingers over her words, the curves and twists.

She walked by the door alot that week. Left smokey little hearts on the window with puffs of breath that made him start from the diary and smile through the small window at her. She left him words of encouragement, words to soothe when he became restless without his art supplies. She left him little drawings of moons and stars because he couldn't see the sky through the little window at the top of the wall that filtered a small amount of light through.

She was making it tolerable to live again. She could see the happiness he easily masked in his eyes. They would get well. She knew it.