When You Screamed

“And how long have you been feeling this way?” I asked. I leaned on the palm of my hand and looked out the window, where the sun was setting. I peeked at the clock. It was almost six at night.

“A couple of years now.” the voice said. It sounded like a young woman’s, as usual. I picked at a loose thread in my sweater and counted the seconds until the woman would shut up and being “saved”.

“Well, you said you wanted to kill yourself due to your close friend’s death.” I explained. “But what about yours and her other friends? Don’t you think they’d be upset about this whole thing?” The woman was silent for a moment.

“Her only other friend had a mental breakdown last month,” she complied. “She doesn’t even remember me.”

“Why don’t you help her remember?” I asked. “I’m sure, deep down, she’d still be upset if you died. Besides, your friend wouldn’t want you to kill yourself. She’s want you to live a happy and healthy life.”

She got quiet again. “You’re right,” she said, tearfully. “Thank you so much. You really helped me. May I ask your name?”

“I’m not allowed to give you my name.” I replied, somewhat coldly. The woman got quiet again.

“A-All right.” she replied. “Well, have a nice day.” And with not even a second to reply, I hung up the phone, placing it gently in its cradle, and ran to grab my coat from the rack at the corner of the room. As I walked out and put my sleeve through, Natalie was coming through the door.

“Hey Nats,” I greeted. She gave me a weak smile. I stopped. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she told me. “Just another day, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I buttoned up my black peacoat. Nat started to take hers off and hang it up on the rack. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She nodded aimlessly and walked over to her desk in the furthest corner of the small office. She sat and smiled, letting me know it was time to get out.

I walked home in the cold dark night, as usual, with this bizarre feeling overwhelming me. I looked back to the day, but couldn’t think of a thing. A looked all across my memory of the week, and found nothing.

So, like nothing happened, I shrugged off the feeling and made my way back to the small condo my Mother and I both shared.

†††††††††††

I came downstairs, clad in my usual sweater and jeans, set for the winter’s day ahead of me. Mom was downstairs, flipping through a magazine at the table, a plastic bag next to her. I almost made it past her when she called me back. “Lorelei.”

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to face her. “Yes?”

She stood up and handed me the plastic bag. “You almost forgot your breakfast.” I nodded and opened the bag to make sure everything was right. One large can of Black and White Tea, a Starbucks beverage in a bottle, an apple, and a bag of muffins. The one mistake, as per usual, with my new caffeinated diet and all, was the muffins were blueberry. I made a mental sigh and looked at the clock. Time didn’t permit me to run to the corner store and buy my usual chocolate.

“Is everything right?” Mom asked, anxiously playing with her hands.

I gave her a fake smile. “It’s fine Mom.” She gave me one of her suspecting looks, but I gave her another reassuring smile. I knew how she could be. “Bye Mom.” As I opened the door, she grabbed my hand lightly.

“Lorelei, please.” Mom started. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

I looked at the clock. I had five minutes to spare. Five minutes that could end up killing my mood for the day. I glanced at my hand that was still on the doorknob. I let go. I knew I had to give Mom what she wanted. I looked back at her. “Sure.”

We both went and sat at the table. I didn’t both to take my coat off, or make eye contact, for that matter. “Lorelei, are you okay?” she asked.

I looked up at her a bit. “Yeah.” I drummed my fingers against the bottom of the chair. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Mom started. “You’ve been very quiet lately. And you’ve been.... different. You’re not my little girl anymore. You’ve changed.”

“Mom, I haven’t been your little girl since I got my period in seventh grade.” I stated. She laughed a little, but got very serious again.

“I mean, Lore, you’ve been acting strangely. You’ve changed your diet from fruits and vegetables, to junk and caffeine. You’ve gone from being so laid back about your studies, to using all of your time to study. But somehow, your grades have dropped.”

“I wouldn’t consider going from an A plus to an A ‘dropping’.”

“You know what I mean Lore,” Mom continued. “You just haven’t been yourself since, well, I don’t really remember. I beginning to get concerned. I don’t know if it’s that volunteer job you’re doing or what, but whatever it is that’s causing you to hurt yourself like this, I want you to drop.”

“Ma, I’m okay.” I explained. “Really.”

“It’s not a matter if you’re okay or not,” Mom complied. “It’s a matter of what is causing you to be ‘okay’ or ‘not okay’.”

“Ma, don’t worry.” I told her. “I’ve been taking too many classes. No big deal. I’ll drop one of my extra ones and go to the beach like everyone else for Spring Break. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get to work.” I opened my Starbucks shots and started to make my way out of the house.

“Lorel!” Mom called out. I turned around. “Don’t be such a stranger. Visit a little more. You don’t always have to wait for a holiday to visit, you know.”

I swallowed and waved. “Bye Mom.”

And with that, I closed the door behind me, making a mental note to visit Mom a little more, and keep her as far away from my apartment as possible.

††††††††

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

Child laughter was heard on the other end of the phone. “I’m gonna KILL MYSELF.”

“Yeah. Okay. With all of your friends there? Bet that’ll go over great buddy.” And with that, I hung up and rested my pounding head into my hands. My caffeine high was falling, and I was now too sick to deal with anyone. Especially the stupid pranksters from the local Middle School.

I’d lost all patience, and possibly my mind.

“Berkhardt!” my boss yelled. I didn’t even look up at him from where I was sitting. I rubbed my eyes a little and played with the colorful paperweight my cousin made me for my graduation.

“You’re on night watch!”

I sat up immediately.

“Sir, you can’t put me on night watch! I have to study for a test for next week!”

He turned to me. “What subject is your test for?”

I raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

“What subject is the test on, kid?”

I thought for a minute. “Philosophy, sir.”

“Do you have textbooks for this class?”

“Yes sir.”

“Do you take notes in this class?”

“Yes sir.”

“All right then. You can study here.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving me quietly fuming.

††††††††

“I’m so tired.” I spoke to no one. My head was nodding into sleep at certain points. The phone hadn’t rung once all night. I didn’t understand how the kids could take it daily. How Mary could take it. How Jake could take it. How Nat, and all the kids who came and went....

At that moment, the phone rang, and the notes on Socrates I’d been looking over went flying off the desk, and going all over the floor. I went and threw all the papers in a messy pile next to me and dug for the phone under all of my books and paperwork. Finally, on the hundredth or so ring, I found the phone and threw it out of its cradle and into my hands.

“Hello?” I started. I heard sobbing on the other end, but kept professional. Who knew if I was getting taped by the security cameras. “Welcome to the Suicide Hotline. How may I help you?”

The person, who I could somewhat tell was a younger woman, kept crying.

I sat in silence, chewing on my bottom lip for a little while. Eventually, I got a little fed up with the crying and said, “I can’t really help you if you can’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Wrong? Wrong you ask?!” she screamed. “Every thing's wrong!”

“Miss, please calm down.”

“How can I possibly calm down, when I’m in so much pain?” she asked. “Do you even understand what you’re saying?”

I got quiet. “I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t.”

I took a deep breath, but still ended up stumbling over my own words. “D-Do you want to talk about why you want to take your own life? Like, um, do you have a reason?”

She took a deep breath.

“A reason?” she asked me. “Do I even have a reason? I don’t even know.”

“Everyone has a reason-”

“According to him, I didn’t know a thing. Most of the time anyways...”

“Him?”

“What makes me stay is the other half.”

So her reason is a boy? Okay. Whatever works...

“You see, he started off real sweet, and loving.” she explained. I remained quiet as she spoke. “Would sneak over and hang out with me all night. We got real serious, real fast. Started off as hickeys, but slowly, and surely, they became bruises.”

“But why would you stay with him if he hurt you?”

“I would have left him, but he needed me.” she continued. “He came from a real bad childhood, and had it bad at home still. He needed help, and I swore I would give it to him. Eventually, after he got real upset one night from a fight at home, and he told me what he needed. And I gave it to him graciously, thinking it would show I cared.

“Got pregnant my sophomore year,” she sighed. “He was a senior, I think. I broke it off for a while, so no one would find out. I dropped out the day after I found out.

“And then one night, he snuck into my room, and sang me my favorite song before I could call the cops or scream. He made me melt my clothes off, and he noticed the baby. He acted real gentle for a minute, but then, he got really mad, real fast. And well, let’s just say nothing but blood came out of me after six gruesome, but life changing months.”

I was in tears at this point. I felt so bad for this girl. She’d gone through so much, it almost felt like life was only keeping her in pain. It was sort of like putting an animal to sleep when it have kidney failure. Would you let it continue to go through all of this pain, or would you choose to put it out of its misery?

She still had more to tell. “They found out, my parents, after this terrible night terror I’d had. He went to the state penitentiary, and was found guilty of rape, and either murder or extreme endangerment of a child, or something. They took him the night of his prom.

“And today, they said death row.” she started crying again.

I was in pure shock, but my heart spoke for me. “I-I’m so s-sorry.” I told her. “I-I don’t know what to say. I really don’t.” I cleared my throat. “I can understand about the baby, but why kill yourself now? Obviously, it’s been a little while since he or she died. It would take a year or two for him to get a court case and be found guilty. So, why now? Is it for him, and if so, why? He hurt you.”

She sniffled. “I want to be with my love.” she told me. “I understand he’s taken everything from me, but I don’t care! I don’t care if he’s killed everything I’ve had! I want to be with him and our baby! I love him! I love him! I love him! I-”

There was a loud gun shot. My eyes widened. “Oh my God!” I screamed. “Please, stay on the line! Keep talking! Where do you live?! We’ll have an ambulance there immediately!”

“It doesn’t matter,” she explained. “I can be happy now. And how can you deny someone happiness?”

And with that, the phone went dead.

I flipped through the binder we had sitting on the desk in case of emergencies. I looked through the phone ID, hoping something was there. An area code, something. But there was nothing. Just the big letters that read PRIVATE. I dropped the phone and slumped onto the floor.

And I knew. I understood how Jake, Mary, Natt, and everyone else could take it.

They couldn’t.

†††††††

The next day, I asked my boss if I could take the day off. He agreed I needed it, saying I “Looked like hell and needed some beauty rest.”

I made my way around town by myself, looking at the street signs and posters, and thinking about how beautiful they were. I breathed in the smell of the cafés that were crazy enough to have their doors open and thought about going in, but decided against it.

Finally, halfway through the day, my stomach lead me to a small coffee shop with couches and coffee tables around the perimeter of the store where people sat. They placed me by the window, where I could look at everyone passing by and eyeing where I was sitting, but not seeing me.

As I drank my coffee, my mind wandered. I thought about the next time it would snow, being that the thin layer was beginning to show the hiding concrete underneath. I wondered if the woman on the cell phone was supposed to be at her child’s school play instead of at a business lunch. I wondered if the man in the suit had his heart broken by his mistress yet, and if the woman he was sitting with was her or his oblivious wife. I wondered if the little girl in the wagon with pigtails would grow up to be clingy to her abusive boyfriend or end up getting kicked out by her Daddy when he found out she was gay.

Aimlessly, I asked the waiter for a newspaper from the rack next to my table. He smiled and handed it to me. I pulled my chocolate curls to one shoulder and flipped through the pages. I ended up finding the obituary page instead of finding the comics like I’d been looking for. My eyes scanned the page, and landed on one at the bottom corner of the last page. It was rather small, compared to others.

Delilah Kate Joan was found passed out in her Oaks Esates home early this morning, January fifth, suffering from a severe head wound. She was brought to the hospital immediately and pronounced dead on arrival.

Delilah was a very good student in her high school of Elk Oaks High School. She was the daughter of Darren Joan and Penelope Mena. She leaves us at the tender age of seventeen. We send the deepest condolences to her family. May she rest in peace...

I dropped the newspaper, making it hit my spoon and causing it to go clanging to the floor. It didn’t hit my mind properly. Seventeen? How could it be? She was too young. And head wound? She shot herself in the head? And the lack of information?

But maybe I was worrying myself. It couldn’t possibly be her.

But what if it was?

It would make it my fault.

The Oaks Estates? Those were close as close can be.

I could walk there if I wanted to.

I looked around, and noticed that everyone was reading the paper in the small café. Two middle-aged woman behind me were whispering to each other.

“Oh, seventeen? That’s so young.”

“It bet she was on drugs.”

“You think?”

She turned to her friend. “Aren’t most young ones this day and age?”

My eyes widened as soon as I heard that. I looked at the people on the other side of the place. They were shaking their head, not in sadness, but in disappointment. My eyes began to blur with tears. I took money out of my wallet and counted how many coffees I’d had in my head. Being in too much of a rush, I just threw a hundred on the table and ran out, letting the people’s glances barely hit my back.

††††††††

When I got home that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about Delilah whatever. She was almost stuck in my head. Maybe because I couldn’t help her. Maybe because, really, I was the one that ultimately killed her in the end.

The thought of not being able to help someone brought me back to weird times, like High School. Elk Oaks High School wasn’t exactly a supportive environment. After all, the only teacher that liked me was my writing teacher, Mrs. Shaft, and the rest of the teachers hated me for “being in my own world”.

Same with the students. The only friends I had were from Mrs. Shaft’s freshman course, and I hadn’t talked to them in years. The only friend I’d really stayed close with for years was Natalie.

Natt and I had met at Brownies in first grade. We’d been paired together to get our Teamwork and Animal Care badges. We were to take turns and take care of this beautiful white rabbit we’d named Francis. I remember I first conversation, when our parents had forced us together for an afternoon to spend time with our rabbit.

Francis acted like a cat, and ran around the house freely. He rubbed up against people as well, and it sat on people’s laps. He was sitting on my lap when Natalie started talking.

“So, should I keep him here, or do you want to take him?”

I looked up at her. “You can keep him.”

She sighed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothin’.’” she replied.

“Nope,” I told her. “Something’s wrong.”

“I hate keeping a rabbit in this house,” she explained. “Rabbits aren’t supposed to be kept in a cage. They’re supposed to run free and...” she thought for a minute. “Eat carrots.”

I stood up, Francis in my arms. “So, why not let him be free?”

She turned to me and smiled.

We dropped out of Brownies when we got yelled at for releasing Francis, but that was fine. After that, our parents put us in the same of everything, just by sheer coincidence. And every year, we were in something new because the last one didn’t work out. In dance, we thought it would be a good idea to try and do the ballet lifts like on tv. We both got broken arms and matching casts, but couldn’t be in the recital. In Little League, they were dumb enough to give us the job of filling the tank of water they gave us. We had a water fight on the field instead, causing it to get muddy, and no one could play. In band in Elementary school, we locked ourselves in the band room the entire day, by pure accident.

By the time we reached Elk Oaks High School, people knew who were were, and how we got to be such great friends. People used to say we looked like sisters, although we looked nothing alike. Nat had the rosy cheeks and straight yellow hair. I had the pure white skin and the curly brown hair. The only similarity were our eyes. We both had pure blue eyes, with nothing else. No flecks or brown or rings of green. Just blue and curious.

She was the one who convinced me to work on the Suicide Hotline with her. I asked her why I had to, and she said it would be good for us, and make us appreciate life a little more. I agreed aimlessly, and we began to work together after school every day.

But one day, Natalie didn’t come to school. I called to see if she was sick, but she didn’t answer my message. The next day, she wasn’t at school. I called again. This went on for about two weeks.

Eventually, she showed up at my house while I was on the phone with our friend Emily, who was crying because she was so worried. I hung up the phone to a small sniffle and wrapped my arms around my dear friend. She began to cry.

I asked what happened and she wouldn’t say a thing. She just sat there, crying. I held my arms around her tightly, but she wouldn’t move. I rocked her back and forth, hoping she’d be okay in a matter of minutes. She wasn’t. She just sat and cried for hours.

Eventually, she choked out, “My Mom left.”

I hugged her again, remembering that her parents marriage had been bad for a bunch of years. “Maybe that’s a good thing, “I said, pulling away. “No more fighting until four, right?”

She looked me straight in eyes like I was crazy. “Lorelei,” she mumbled. She gripped my shoulders. “It’s terrible. Dad is afraid I’m going to leave him. He’s so paranoid now. He’s almost mentally ill.”

I paused, realizing what she was saying. “If you’re locked in the house now, how’d you get out.”

She laughed and pulled her hair back. She chewed her lips a little. “I knocked him out with some cough medicine in his tea. He’ll be okay. Just a little disoriented when he wakes up.”

“Nats....” I sighed. “Are you gonna do this everyday?”

“No,” she told me. “I’m gonna go live with my grandmother. She’s not too far from where I live now.” I nodded aimlessly and agreed that would be best.

For the next month, Nat changed a lot. She dyed her corn colored hair light brown, and left it down all of the time, instead of her usual pig tails or braids. She grew her hair out more. People began to ask if we really were related.

And Nat got very quiet.

And suddenly, out of the blue, Nat showed up at my house with a bag in tow, about three months after her Mom left. It was January now, and my Mom was on her usual New Years excursion with her Mom-friends.

It was almost a repeat of the night in October.

Nat was crying. I was leaning down in front of her, calming her down. I asked her what was wrong. She said nothing, and kept crying. After an hour or so of crying, she looked me right in the eyes and said, “I love you.”

She leaned in and kissed me.

I kissed back, without fear.

Soon enough, we were tangled up on the couch. I took of my grey sweater and my white tank underneath. I lifted Nat’s shirt a little bit, and the part of porcelain I revealed was broken, and showing black underneath.

“Nat, what is this?” I asked, breaking away to point out the bruise.

“It’s nothing.” she told me, and kissed me again. I got her shirt off, only to see tons of patches of blue, and heavy scars all across her back.

“Nat, oh my God!” I said. She threw her shirt back on.

“It’s nothing.”

“Christ, Nats.” I started. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” she started to get up. “Please. Don’t do this to me.”

“Do what Nat?” I asked, following her as she ran to get her stuff from upstairs. “I just want to know what happened.”

“They’ll go away in a week or two. Don’t freak out.”

“I don’t care!” I said, “I just want to know what happened! Who did this to you?”

“They’ll be gone in a week.” she said, putting on her backpack. She started to walk to the door. I blocked her way.

“Nat. Tell me what happened.” I was stifling cries beneath my teeth. “Right. Now.”

She chewed on her lips and dropped her bag to the floor. She shook her head. “I-I really don’t w-want to t-talk about i-it.” She started crying behind her hands. I reached out to tough her cheek, but she slapped it away. I watched her cry. I watched her slide down the wall and fall to the floor. I kneeled down next to her and watched her like she was an actor doing an emotional movie scene. The scene that makes everyone cry.

She took a couple of deep breaths before she spoke. “My dad gave these to me.” she said. “I lied. I didn’t live with my grandmother. I continued to live in my house, with my father. And he hit me. And he touched me. And he had a complex, where he though I was my mother. And because of that, I dyed my hair, curled it, got quieter, and did everything I could to make him stop. And you know what he did? He hit his daughter. He wasn’t hitting my Mom anymore, he was hitting his daughter.”

She was breathing heavily now. I looked her right in the eyes and said, “I’m sorry.”

And with that she cried.

And we kissed.

And we made love for the first time that night.

And the next day, I saw her, ready for night duty in the office.

I didn’t know what to say to her.

So I didn’t ask about the bags she had hidden underneath her desk.

I didn’t ask about the cuts on her neck or why she hadn’t been to school that day.

And because of that, I never saw her again.

Not in the last three years.

Not since we were both seventeen.

††††††††

The days went by like nothing at work. They went by so fast. Everyone got to the calls before I did. Everyone laughed at Mr. Harrison’s jokes before I did. Everyone got on our Boss’s good side before I did. And the days were like usual.

A week went by, maybe two, and January was ending. Nearing the end of the cold months meant graduates wouldn’t be coming back, and we were to get a whole new slew of kids in a matter of months. The end of the cold months meant less calls were going to be made here. The end of the cold months meant light, spring, and a new day.

During the last day in February, I got a call.

“I’m in pain.” the person said. She sounded about my age, and sort of familiar. But I said nothing.

“Physical or mental?” I asked.

“Both.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to talk about what happened?”

“Yes.”

“With me?”

Pause. “Yes.”

“What, may I ask, is your problem today?” I sat in Natalie’s old chair, which was my new desk as of last week. I peeked out the window.

“I called a suicide hotline.” she told me, “What do you think is my problem today?”

“I was just asking.” I played with an old phone cord I had wrapped around my lamp. “Is there any reason you want to take your own life?”

“Ooh. It’s a story you want? All right.” I expected the woman’s chair to creek back, but I heard nothing on the other line. “You see, there were too many mistakes made in my life. My parent’s marriage was one of them. Together for years over a beautiful baby girl, and almost a little boy on the way. But when that baby boy disappeared, so did the relationship.

“Mommy started getting hit by Daddy, no big deal. No big news for CNN to cover. Nothing for the Times. But when Mommy left him, it was news to Daddy. He took it out on the baby girl. She did everything she could to stay strong, but I don’t think she’d ever really wept like that.

“And when the baby girl grew up and gave up, she turned out gay. And Daddy found out and punished her. So one day, she ran off to try and find her happily ever after. She was drugged, raped, and bruised on those streets everyone think is so clean. But she tried not to cry.

“And now, she has nothing. She’s just a girl who’s supposed to be in college, studying to be a photographer with the love of her life. Now, nothing. Do you understand? She has nothing. Some happily ever after.”

I couldn’t help it. I started crying a little bit. My boss saw me and gave me a look and hand motion that said “Cut it Out”. I couldn’t help it though. I wanted to save her. I had to save her.

“But why give up?” I asked, trying to keep me cool. “There’s so much to live for. Why not try and find the love of your life? Why not look at the world, and see how beautiful it really is?”

“You don’t seem to understand.” she scoffed. “The world isn’t as beautiful as you think it is. Do you understand what I said? Have you ever experienced pain like I have?”

“No.” I said. “But I’m sure as hell trying.”

“Huh.” she said. “You sound like a Hallmark commercial.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” I asked. “One of my friends went through what you went through, and ran away from it. Running away from your problems solves nothing. If anything, it brings more to it.”

“So you’re saying it’s all my fault?”she questioned. She sounded shocked, and a little angry.

“No, I’m saying-” I cut myself off with tears. “I’m saying I miss her as much as you miss having the love of your life in your grasp.” My boss was giving me death glares now. “I’m saying I love you Natalie Youngs! I’m saying it’s me! Don’t you realize it’s me? Lorelei? It’s your best friends Nats! It’s your best friend!”

Natalie started crying on the other end, and workers started to grab me and pull me out of the office. Natalie was calling my name over the phone, until someone hung it up. People were calling me crazy. People were saying they should lock me up in a padded room, somewhere no one could find me. People said I’d gone mad.

And so what if I had?

†††††††

Days later, I was in the field by my house, contemplating everything.

Mom had to come and get me out of the office they’d locked me in. I had no job at this point, and was to look for another one so I could keep my apartment. Until then, I was to stay with my Mom, and go to a therapist twice a week.

Mom convinced me to take the rest of the semester off after this week, and said it would be good for me. In reality, it was killing me to not have something to kill time. Mom was entering me in classes now, to get me socially involved.

As I sat in the field and thought, someone approached me.

A girl with corn colored hair.

I like to think I saved her.

She likes to think I saved myself.