What You Did in the Dark

"And how long has it been since you last attempted to take your life?"

The counselor spoke with a boring tone. His eyeglasses sat on his face, where they would slowly slide down his long nose until his skinny, bony fingers pushed them back up again. Regardless, he was nice to Oliver and seemed to understand his situations.

"Almost a week ago."

Dr. Hawthorne scribbled away on a clipboard.

Oliver kept his mind elsewhere, studying the intricate, detailed designs on the rug or the small wrinkles in the leather couch he sat on.

"And are you glad that you weren’t successful?" Hawthorne asked.

Oliver wanted to lie. He wanted to tell him that yes, of course he was glad he was still alive, otherwise he wouldn’t have the pleasure of being there with Dr. Hawthorne on such a fine day. But he knew better than that. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to someone that could be the difference between life and death. Oliver Scott Sykes was almost eighteen years old and labeled himself a man of truth.

"No," he said quietly. "No, I’m not."

Hawthorne wrote as he spoke, “Mhhm,” he mumbled, “can you tell me why?”

"Because I want to be dead."

"Do you have any friends, Oliver? Any cohorts or companions, or anyone at school you’re affiliated with that might help you change these thoughts?"

Oliver could only laugh to himself at the mention of companions. He had many things, it was true. He had a brother that was the closest to a friend he could get, a mother that was always there to nurse him, a father that talked to him about football, and a new puppy that slept too much. But he never had friends.

"No. Everyone at school makes it worse."

"How do they do that?"

Oliver simply shuffled his hands before he gave a response. “They…all the guys think I’m a creep. They tell me to off myself and shove me in the lockers,” he said, “the girls avoid me. They trip me in the hallways and think I’m a loser. One of them prank called me, I don’t know how she got my number…” He trailed off.

"What did she say when she prank called you, Oliver?"

This was a touchy subject. It was in tenth grade and he had just started driver’s education. “She asked if she could borrow my razors to cut her hair, and she said she didn’t want any with blood on them.” His voice broke at the end, showing Dr. Hawthorne that he was in pain just thinking about the subject.

However, to Oliver’s dismay, he uttered the final question he didn’t want to be asked, “Have you ever took a blade to your wrists?”

In response, Oliver pulled up his sleeves and revealed the many slash marks that adorned his wrists varying in colour. “Almost every day.”

Not too far away, a female counselor was asking a female patient similar questions. When did she last attempt to end it all? Was she glad she was alive? Why or why not? Does she have friends? Has she harmed herself in the past?

All of these to which she refused to answer. Throughout their session, throughout all of their sessions, Aleria Williamson never spoke a word to Dr. Volkheimer, or Dr. Vee, as Aleria would call her. She had a notion that if she revealed any detail or information to her counselor, she’d feel vulnerable and unsafe. Dr. Vee would simply put up with her silence, accepting the fact that she felt uncomfortable speaking and always bid her goodbye with a “next time we’ll make progress”.

It was Friday. No more Dr. Vee for a full two days. Aleria saw her counselor three days a week; Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. On the weekends and on Tuesdays and Thursdays, she would write down her thoughts in her private journal or take a trip to the park and swing until she felt like falling asleep.

Sundays were her least favourite because she had to stay with Mrs. Dorren, a widowed ninety-two year old that lived across the street, for two and a half hours. Aleria didn’t believe in God. Her mother did, however, and always attended the morning service and took her three year old brother Kyne with her. She made Aleria stay with Mrs. Dorren to make sure she didn’t do anything life-threatening to herself.

Her mother understood why Aleria refused to believe in a religious figure, for she explained it to her one day. Knowing that Aleria’s father had walked out three and a half years prior to present day, her mother wouldn’t put anymore pressure on her suicidal daughter such as religion—even though that’s probably what she needs, she thought.

She had a friend in sixth grade, Marylin, who would ask Aleria how she thought her life would end. The answer was simple; “Probably of old age,” and Marylin would answer something similar. The answers changed though in eighth grade, from “old age” to “suicide”. In ninth grade, Marylin confirmed her own answer was correct and Aleria was devastated.

The days dragged on. Mrs. Dorren got older. Aleria didn’t notice when a new family with two kids from a different continent moved in next door. So she didn’t directly notice when Oliver Sykes literally moved into her life.