Torn Fragility

I had helped Smith silently up to his room near midnight. He had refused to come inside until then and I had resigned myself to watching him from a distance where I wouldn’t intrude upon his momentary peace.

And after closing his bedroom door I had sneaked downstairs and quietly dialled a number scratched on a piece of paper.

“Hello?”

“Hannah? It’s me, Rose, you said I should call.”

She sounded tired when she spoke, not physically but mentally. “Rose? It’s so late! How are things over there? Smith’s not causing too much trouble is he?!”

“No, no, actually today went well. He went outside Hannah. When was the last he went outside?”

“Outside?! How did you manage that? I’ve been trying to get him outside for years...”

“Hannah...What happened to him?”

“Rose...What do you...Alright, alright. Are you sure you want to know?”

“Ye...yes.”

Hannah sighed. “He tried to kill himself Rose. Twice. The first time was right after his parents died and the second was...well, only a few months ago. Rose?”

I was crying. Me, who hated tears was crying. And I felt my little shred of sunshine leave me, leave my heart cold and alone, in utter darkness. Mostly I wept for that loss and for the magical images of the sunny boy in my drawings. Ones that would never come to pass, if I didn’t do my job and pull myself together.

I had to know so I pushed through. “And what happened to his parents? Why doesn’t his family look after him?”

“Not even I know that. I’m sorry but he’s going to have to tell you that himself...When he’s ready.”

“And when I’m ready to ask him. Goodnight,” I said finally and hung up. I heard floorboards creak in the hallway behind me but when I whipped around no one was there.

For a moment I was spooked but then thoughts in my head began to clamour for attention.

He tried to kill himself. I can’t...I won’t be able to do...Stop! I switched the kitchen light off with an angry flick and went upstairs to my room trying not to make too much noise. On second thought I crept towards Smith’s room, wondering if he was already asleep. But when I tried to open his door it wouldn’t budge. It was locked.

He probably just wants some privacy for once. It’s probably horrible to have someone storm into your room all the time. But is it alright to leave him by himself? What if he locked it because...?!

I was just about to bang on the door and call his name when I heard someone talking from inside. And my blood chilled at the sound.

It wasn’t Smith talking. This was a woman’s voice.