Spring of Genius

The last time I smiled was October 29th, 2008. It was two days after my 13th birthday party. That was the day Emory acted like I no longer existed.

"Damian, are you even listening to me? I said you may need to see your therapist again, Damian. He's worried about you. Damian." My mother continued talking to me like I was actually listening, but I wasn't. I never listened anymore.

"Damian?" My little sister tugged on my shoulder from the backseat. "Dami? When we get home, do you wanna make gingerbread mans?" Evie was her name. She was four years old, and she had no idea what was bothering me all the time. I shook my head, blinking once as we passed by snow covered pine trees. It was snowing right now. Fresh snow was all I needed. A fresh path. "Why not, Dami?" She began to whine.

"I just don't want to!" I snapped. Evie jumped at the sound of my harsh and scratchy voice. My mom stared at me from the corner of her eyes and blinked a few tears away.

I don't expect anyone to feel bad for me. I didn't even feel bad for myself anymore. My mom acted like tears and begging could fix anything. Nothing could fix me.



I sat in front of the glass door of my house, waiting for the sky to lose color and turn to a deep blue; for the stars to blink, twinkle and sparkle through the pine trees scattered through my backyard.

Standing up, I slowly walked over to the couch where my coat was draped over the arm of it. I swung it over my shoulders, slipping my arms through the sleeves. After I zipped my coat up and wrapped a scarf around my neck and my face (just to my nose), I felt my sister tug on the sleeve of my jacket.

"Dami?" She squeaked. "Where are you going, Dami?"

"Out of here."

"Why?" Evie held onto my jacket a bit more, a pleading puppy-dog look on her face. Her eyes widened.

"I'm sick, Evie. Don't you know that?"

"Mommy said you were only going to be sick for a little while.... Why aren't you fixed yet, Dami?"

"I've been sick, and will be sick for the rest of my life, Evie. I'll never get better." I started for the back door. "Did mommy tell you that?" Evie whimpered at the sharpness of my voice; I never talked to her much, and when I did, I was sarcastic and angry.

"Damian." My mother's tired voice called out from the kitchen. She held a plate full of gingerbread men in her hands, smiles painted onto their faces. I swung the glass door open and put one foot outside of the door. "Damian, don't you leave this house!"

"Or what? You'll ground me? Go ahead."

"So, help me, Damian!"

"Y'know, my name is all I hear anymore! 'Damian, you're not listening; Damian, you're depressed; Damian, you need help; You're ugly, Damian; Damian, Damian, Damian!' " I spat. "I'm not Damian! I'm worthless."

"Oh, honey....." My mother cooed. "You're precious to me, and that's all that matters."

"But I'm not precious to Emory, now am I?" I slammed the door shut, putting one foot in front of the other, nearly running into the maze of pine trees in my backyard. The fresh snow crunched under my feet as I slowed down my pace.

Emory left me. He outgrew me, so he said, but I didn't outgrow anything. My past was my future.

"Dami!" The small pitter-patter of my sister's feet awoke me from my thoughts. I turned around to see her with her bouncy blonde locks of hair coming towards me, arm stretched out to me. Evie's foot caught on a hard piece of snow, and she fell forward with an 'oof!'. I caught her by her armpits, standing her up slowly to make sure she was okay. I may have been depressed, but I wasn't a monster.

"Dami, here!" She practically threw a gingerbread man into my hands. "Take it, Dami!" The gingerbread man had a smile frosted onto his face, with clothes and purple jellybeans for buttons. "I haveta get home now, Dami. Momma's mad. She's calling someone on the t-telephone." Her teeth chattered together as the chill of the snow began to reach her through her thin clothes. Who would my mom be calling? She didn't know anyone except for my therapist.

"Don't stay out too late, Dami. You have to read me a bedtime story, remember!"

"Okay...." I spun Evie around by her shoulders, scooting her in the direction of the house. "Get home, squirt. It's too cold for you to be out here."

"I love you, Dami." She giggled before skipping off toward the house.

"Ditto." I murmured, turning my back on her and stepping off in the darkness.

After walking for 10 more minutes, I sat down in a pile of soft snow, sinking into the cold flakes. The crisp, cold air was already stinging my skin, lungs and throat. It felt like my ribcage was going to collapse in itself, but I knew I was just being overly dramatic. I did that a lot.



School wasn't bad, to be honest. Emory was the first person I ever saw, though, because of his fiery red and ice blue hair. He always wore a plaid or gingham shirt with a thermal undershirt, which made him that much easier to pick out of a group. His voice was what I missed the most. His voice could lull a demon to sleep, like an angel's whispers.

"Hey, fag." Somebody said as they walked past me, a hand coming down on the pile of books in my hands. The books hit the ground with a hard slam before I heard the person walking by chuckle to himself.

Things like this happened a lot, but usually not because I was gay. It was usually about my depression. Most people could have cared less that I liked boys. It was just so much fun to pick on the boy who doesn't even like himself. But there were those occasions where somebody brought up my interest in boys.

"Need some help?" A pale hand reached down to cradle my history and science book. I peered up at the familiar figure and was greeted by red and blue hair. I knew I recognized that voice.

"N-no, I don't. Thanks though." I snatched the books out of Emory's hands, holding them closer to my chest.

"How are you, Damian?" Emory asked. "I've heard you... haven't been doing your best."

"Depends on how your definition of 'doing your best' is." I shrugged. "I'm still alive...."

Emory handed me a pencil that slipped out of my history book. A smile appeared on his lips.

"Can we talk?" He asked. My cheeks flushed to a dark pink color. "I know I said some things... but I didn't mean them at all. I was young and stupid three years ago, and I still am... but I know I made a mistake." Emory paused. "Smile for me, Damian."

The bell rang and I shot a glance over at the class rooms.

"Please, Damian." He reached over to grab my chin, but I snapped it away. "I know you can still smile."

"Y-you.... You took the human out of me when you said I need to— and I quote— 'grow the fuck up because your shit is getting old'. "

"What do you want me to say? It was a mistake."

"A stupid one."

"What do I have to do to prove to you that I'm sorry?"

I turned my back on Emory. Then he jerked me back by my shoulder.

"Tell me what I have to do to fix this!" He pleaded.

"Go through half the pain I've gone through, pretty boy. Lose your best friend, lose your father. Tell me what it's like to not even know yourself anymore."

"Damian, when you lost me, I lost you too!" His voice cracked.

"Tell me what it's like to lose your puppy love, Emory." I said calmly. Emory's words caught in his throat, only letting him let out a few awkward stutters. "Because that was what I lost when you told me to grow up. I could have cared less about anyone else. It was you, Emory."

"Don't make this some cliche love scene, Dami. I was-"

"I have to get to class. Nice knowing you, Emory."



At 6:10 p.m., it was already dark. Pitch black. White flakes were dropping to the ground and melting in with one another.

"Dami, are you going out again?" Evie asked. I nodded, opening the glass door just as I had the night before, but this time, I had a surprise for everyone.

My mom's hand darted for the phone and she pounded in numbers like there was no tomorrow. I was nearly closing the door when Evie handed me two gingerbread men.

"Just in case you get lonely." She nodded.

"Okay." I said, slipping out of the door and clicking it shut. I might as well have been nice to her before I went out into the cold again.

Everything went numb for a few hours as I laid myself down in the snow. I couldn't feel my feet anymore, and my hands were non-existent. I felt a finger poke my cheek gently, and I slowly opened my eyes to find Emory smiling down at me.

"Hi, Dami."

"Go away." I said, flopping myself over so I was on my side.

"Nice to see you too." He smiled. "How are you?"

"Fine." I snapped back.

"You look cold."

"Cut the small talk, Emory. I'm not in the mood."

The smell of gingerbread tickled at my senses. Something crunched, and I peeked an eye over at Emory who was munching on a gingerbread man.

"Your sister gave it to me." He murmured. "She said you'd be out here somewhere."

"Why are you here?"

"Your mom called.... She said she didn't know what to do for you anymore, Damian." Emory wiped his lips. "I thought I could help, so here I am, trying to fix what I messed up."

"You should have thought of that before...." I mumbled, reaching into my pocket and fumbling around with the items in there; the two gingerbread men, my cell phone, my wallet and a gun.

"Everybody makes mistakes, Dami. I just thought we needed to grow up." Emory took another bite of his cookie. "I know I was wrong now." My finger locked around the gun in my pocket, sliding it out of my coat pocket. Emory looked over and blinked once before his eyes glazed over in shock. They widened, but he didn't move as I slid the gun toward the side of my head. "Dami-"

"We all make mistakes, Emory. Some are just more permanent than others."

"Y-you know I never meant to hurt you, Damian." He fumbled around with his words like he had no idea what to say. "I didn't mean it."

"That's comforting." I said in sarcasm. "But it doesn't change anything, Emory. What you did was like branding me. It hurt." I curled my finger around the trigger. "I may as well leave you with something just as permanent as you did to me, no?"

"Dami, no." He got on his hands on knees, almost reaching out for the gun. However, at the last second, I pulled the gun away from my head and pointed it at his face. My finger wrapped around the trigger and water squirted out from the tip. Emory let out a heavy breath that he'd been holding in the last few seconds, a few water droplets hitting the snow beneath him.

"Did that scare you?" I said. Emory let out a weak chuckle, and he wiped his face with the back of his hand. He nodded slowly, a chill going down his back. "I could never hurt you, Emory. As much as you did to me, I could never hurt you."

"I'm sorry, Damian." He begged. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's a good rule in life never to apologize. The right sort of people don't want apologies, and the wrong sort of people take a mean advantage of them." I said softly. Emory smiled, handing me a piece of his gingerbread man. His hand was still trembling just enough for me to notice. "No thanks." I pushed his hand away. "Evie gave me two just in case I get lonely."