What's Enough?

Chapter 142

"Let's go over it one more time?" Jessica says while pacing back and forth.

I groan; we have gone over it every day this week; tomorrow is Friday, and I have to meet with Jacob; she's afraid that I will forget the plan.

"Come on, Jayda, I'm just making sure that it's drilled into your head,"

I huff, "Ask him about the team and what the class of 2011 was like, then ask him about AJ,"

"Right, and he should willingly tell you because that was the captain,"

I nod, "What if he refuses to answer?"

She thinks for a second. We are just banking on him voluntarily answering my questions; if he played a part in this whole thing, he wouldn't answer them. I wouldn't.

"Don't leave until he does,"

"Why aren't you coming with me?" I ask her; I really don't want to go there by myself.

"I have something to do," She doesn't give any detail; she doesn't go into detail as to what this 'thing' is.

"Whatever," I can go by myself. I have been in worse situations. I grab the glue from my floor and then start gluing the letters onto the board.

She takes a seat next to me, "What are you doing anyway?"

"Making a vision board,"

"Willingly?"

"Yes," Yesterday, while surfing the internet, I found the idea. I'm supposed to glue pictures on it and other things that match what I want to do in life. It's supposed to be like a vision of my life and where I see myself in the future.

She looks around, "Where are the pictures?"

"I don't have any yet; I just want to glue the letters on first," The letters spell out My Vision at the top, "I don't really know what I want to do yet, therefore no pictures," I explain while gluing down the n. I sit up and then sit up, examine my work.

"How did you do it?" she comes out and asks.

"Do what?"

"Live, like how did you want to live?" she stammers, "I know you went to a facility but did it help, did it make you want to live?"

That was an unexpected question; I'm not surprised that she's asking it; she's a cutter. "I wouldn't say it made me want to live," The facility helped none; I still wanted to die when I came back home. "For as long as I can remember, I never wanted to live,"

"But now you do, why?" she presses.

I take a deep breath. "Uhm, I... I'm just trying," There isn't really a why as to why now; it's only that I want to try.

"But what happens when you don't want to try anymore when you just want to..." she stops, not finishing her sentence.

"Die," I finish it for her.

She looks at me, contemplating on opening up, but the wall comes crashing back down; she sniffles and stands up. "I have to go," she says.

"Wait," I stand up and grab her hand. "You can talk to me, Jess,"

She shakes her head, a tear leaves her eye, "I can't okay," She wipes the right side of her face, "Good luck tomorrow, call me when it's done," she turns, exiting the room.

...

"Does anyway know who Diego Rivera is?" Ms. Wesley, my art teacher, asks. Everyone stays silent, so do I. He looks around, trying to find a hand in the room, "Ryder, care to participate,"