Outlines

JACK'S POV

I'm being shaken awake. I don't want to get up.

"Five more minutes, Zacky." I mumble into the odd smelling pillow. It doesn't smell like minty fresh Zack. Or pine needle Alex. What the fuck?!

"Mr. Barakat, it's time for your therapy." I hear an unfamiliar voice say.

Hospital. Cutting. Zacky. Alex. Psychotic.

I get up out of my bed without saying another word. I am wide awake now and pissed. I don't want to be here. I want to be playing Halo with Zack, or having Rian be my wing man because he's dating Cass, or talking to Alex.

The murse (man nurse) tells me that he'll be back in 15 minutes to take me to therapy. I just nod and he leaves, closing the heavy wood door behind him. I walk into the bathroom and splash some water on my face, wondering how they do it in those face wash commercials. Yeah, their bathrooms NEVER get wet or anything.

What I wouldn't give for a blade right now. But that's what got me here in the first place. I hadn't even remembered I had them in that plastic bag at the bottom of my shoe until Alex texted me.

There's a note on my dresser.

"Jackary-

I brought you some clothes. Your parents wanted me to tell you they love you a lot and are glad I brought you. They'll be by in the morning. You have to have a therapy session to tell how long you have to stay. Alex wanted to come, but I told him he can't. I'll be by around dinner. They said I can eat with you. I'm sorry but, Jacky, it's for the best. I love you and I hate it when you hurt yourself. I hate it when you get those thoughts, because you are an amazing person. You light up my life and without you, I don't know what I'd do.

Love you baby.

Zack."

I wipe away my tears that Zack's note caused me and look in the dresser drawers. All my band shirts and favorite pairs of skinny jeans are folded perfectly. In the folded up clothes are post-its with motivational sayings:

"I love you"

"Stay strong"

"It'll be better tomorrow"

"You are beautiful"

"Never leave me behind"

All written in Zack's handwriting.

I put the one that fell out in a pile on my dresser. He must have put four in each article of clothing.

*******

"So, Mr. Barakat-"

"Jack. Call me Jack." I say, trying not to stutter as I talk to the therapist. She's sitting behind her desk, seeming to tower over me. It's scary. I feel like I'm in trouble.

"So, Jack, how are you feeling?"

"As fit as a fucking fiddle." I say, quoting the movie Wonder Boys. She frowns.

"Seriously."

"I want my friends."

"So, lonely?"

"Suicidal. Not good enough. Worthless. Depressed." I say, spewing off my emotions.

"Who's Alex?" She says, holding up a plastic bag with the blade that says his name on it.

"My best friend."

"Then why is there a blade for him?"

"I love him. He has a girlfriend. He rarely talks to me anymore."

"Does anyone else know?"

"My friends Zack and Rian."

"Zack who brought you in?" I nod.

We go on like this and I explain why I cut this morning and she tells me I have to stay for at least five days. I seem to be getting stronger I just had a small relapse. I smile and tell her I'll see her tomorrow. It's already five and I have to get to dinner. And Zack.