What's Enough?

Chapter 165

Day 1

"I'll be right back," I tell Jayda before walking out of the room. I'm not going to be able to take her everywhere with me, so I at least wanted to make sure I left her somewhere safe, with nothing harmful, to even attempt to hurt herself. I never went to sleep last night, so instead, I spent time picking up, tossing, and hiding every harmful thing in my room.

I close the door and lock the outside; I'm locking her in my room, it may seem cruel or weird or something, but I'm just making sure she doesn't leave. She may not even attempt to go, but I have no idea what the hell she would do; I don't even know what the hell is going on with her. She hasn't talked; she hasn't said a fucking word.

After clearing out the room of any and every dangerous object, I took it upon myself to do research on depression. All the symptoms I read pointed to Jayda being in a severe depressive phase right now; the articles I read stated how a depression phase could last days, weeks, and even months. That article led me to another one: people were talking about what depression looked like in their loved ones. One man stated how his wife got depressed, so much so, she stopped taking care of her kids, she couldn't do daily everyday things all she did was lay in bed all day. A woman stated how her husband stopped eating.

I further read another man's experience of what happened with his wife. She watched her mom die; the man said they were really close. Mother and daughter, more like childhood best friends, were his exact words. His wife cried every day for weeks; she stayed quiet for weeks, not saying anything, just like Jayda. At the end of the article, the man said that his wife attempted suicide; he found her in time and immediately admitted her into the hospital. The doctors told him she had had a psychotic break, which I guess happens a lot when someone dies. He also said that the doctors said she showed signs of PTSD; according to the article, she's still locked up in the cra-, I mean in the mental health facility.

The people in there aren't crazy; they're just broken—broken people who need help. Jayda has me; I can help her. I will never just send her away as her parents did. Their asses haven't even called. I have her phone. I keep checking it, holding on to the hope that her parents aren't the selfish bastards I'm 99% sure they are. They have had to hear about the incident by now; they know she and Jessica are... we're friends.

I walk over to the fridge, trying to find some leftover food I know we have to have. "Good morning Mr.Adams, something I can help you with," Denita says.

I turn around, "You don't have to call me that," I've known Denita for years now; she practically raised me during my early years when my mom and dad weren't around much.

"I know I was just trying it out. Are you hungry? I can make you something," she walks over to the refrigerator where I am.

"You don't have to do that," I hate the fact that we have maids and servants; it's so weird having people wait on me like I don't have two hands to do shit myself.

She smiles and says, "It's my job," taking the fridge door from me, "Now what would you like?"

Watching Denita prepare something for Jayda and me, I ask her where my parents are. She tells me that my father is out of the country and left last night for some business meeting or something. My mom is in New York picking up some work so she can stay home for the week. Great. She would choose to stay in town this week; I know she did it for me; she probably thinks I need like, help or support, with Jessica being dead.

I don't think the realization of her death has even hit me yet. I know she's dead, but it's not real; at least for me, it isn't. I want it to stay like this. Jess and I were friends ever since the 2nd grade; every summer, it was always Ashley, Matt, me, and Jessica, wreaking havoc on the town. Sounds terrible, but it was fun at the time. Jessica was the nicest out of all of us; she didn't allow her home life to affect who she was as a person. I don't even recall her ever bullying someone. She stayed quiet when we did, but she never followed in our footsteps; as far as I can remember, she never hurt anyone.