Schadenfreude

Angels and Meltdowns

I was speechless. The kid continued to stare at me. How was I supposed to react? It isn't everyday a small boy asks you to take him to see his mother in heaven. That was when I realized this kid didn't have a mother. For him to request to see her in heaven, she was no longer with him. My heart gave a tight squeeze. I lost my father when I was nine. I still have nightmares about that awful night.

I sympathized with the boy. I remember when my dad passed away. I prayed to God to bring him back. I would make deals such as if I pass my math test, he'll come back, or if I don't say anything mean to Morgan he'll live. None of them worked.

I contemplated on how I should respond. There really wasn't an easy way to explain this.

Choosing my words carefully, I said, "I'm sorry, but no, you're still alive and well. I'm not an angel either."

"So I'm not in heaven?" He asked.

"No, you're not," I responded.

He looked crushed. I saw tears begin to form in his eyes. I felt miserable. I tried to find a quick way of how to make him stop, but nothing came to mind. I noticed he tried to compose myself, but had no effect to the rushing tears down his face.

I stood up and sat next to him. I heard several bones crack as I moved to the other side of the room. I placed my body next to his. I spread my arms out, offering the tiny soul a hug. He wrapped his arms around me in a tight squeeze. He nearly knocked my over with such force and found it harder to breath with his arms around my throat, but made no movement to change position.

 I rubbed small circles on his back. I could tell this kid needed only one thing right now and that was a hug.  He was bawling and I could feel my heart break with each cry of pain.  After quite some time, his breathing came more equal and could talk in small sentences. He looked up with red eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and snot running from his nose. I handed him a tissue from the nearby table.

We were quiet for several minutes. He broke the silence by apologizing.

“I’m so sorry for that. I just got a little upset and then I got so hopeful, just to get let down again. I honestly thought you were an angel and I was dead. But if I was, that’d be okay. I would get to see my mom again and we’d be together. I could hear her sing to me and taste her cooking and let her hug and kiss me,” he said this all in one big rush and could see he was having another meltdown, so I cut him off.

“It’s alright; I understand it’s hard losing a loved one. I lost my dad a few years ago and I still have awful nightmares about him.”

“You do?” He asked with wide eyes.

“Yeah, but they have gotten better with time,” I lie. They are just as bad as they were, but I’m on meds now. Another thing no one knows about me.

“I do too!” He seems surprisingly happy about this.

I shoot him a confused look.

“I’ve never met with anybody that does too,” he explained, “I’ve met with doctors that try to explain why I do, but they don’t get it. Everyone says it’s normal, but there’s nothing normal about your mom being taken away from you. No physiatrists can relate to them losing someone who was so strong and independent and them leaving your life in one day. They don’t have to experience them walking in on a cold, lifeless body when they come home from school. They didn’t have to feel the fear when you look through the house and can’t find your parent anywhere. The terror when you start screaming and her body won’t move. No shake, hit, or slap will wake her. The horror in your veins when prying the pill bottle from her hands. Calling nine, one, one and the ambulances and police men coming. Your dad collapsing in pain when he finally comes home.

Everyone knows my mom took her life, but no one knows why! She was happy! Or so everyone assumes. She made my dad laugh, my sister smile, and me happy, but she was hurting the most and NOBODY NOTICED HER HURTING! She was always, ALWAYS there for everyone and put herself last. Mom was the happiest person in the world, but don't they say that's who is the most hurt? The people who smile the brightest are the ones who cry the most? The friendliest are the most alone? They all do this so no one else feels the way they did! We could have saved her, I could have stopped her! But no, she didn’t tell anyone what she felt, so she swallowed a bottle of pills and now I can’t run to her when someone beats me up. I can’t tell her when my sister teases me. I can’t tell her when my dad sneaks a cigarette after work.  I can’t tell her I love her!”

The kid is shaking now and I need to calm him down. His sudden confession startles me. I can’t imagine anything like that happening to me.

My dad left us too, but I didn’t have to find out on my own. This kid has been through a hell no one should have to suffer through. I hug him again and he starts crying again.

Despite the tears he says, “That’s why I was so hopeful when I saw your flawless face. I assumed I had died and could see the most important person in my life again. But I knew it was too good to be true.”

Once he has finally calmed down enough, he lets go and looks at me. He sees the cast and stares.

“I can tell you’re an angel though. You can’t look like you do and not be one. You’re broken, have been hurt and that I can see too.”

I smile a bit, ignoring the part of me being hurt, but say, “By no standards am I an angel, but thank you.”

He looks at me and says, “Thank you for listening. That has been in my system for far too long and I needed to get it out. You’re the first one in a long time to care about me and for it not to be required. I promise no more mental freak-outs.”

“Really it wasn’t a big deal listening. I know how it feels to be alone. Ignored. Rejected. Neglected. The worst feeling in the world is being in a crowded room and feeling like if you screamed, no one would hear, nor care. I understand that sometimes you need to let it all out or you might explode,” I tell him.

He thanks me again and questions me about my cast.

I laugh and tell him that I had a nasty with the stairs, with the stairs being the victor. He laughs too and tells me he got into a fight at school and that was the reason for his wounds.

“I know I shouldn’t fight, but a couple of guys called my sister a slut and I have a bad temper. But I don’t want to talk about that right now. You know pretty much my darkest secrets and most hidden pain, but not my name. I’m Theo.”

“And I’m Kelly,” I say while I shake his hand.

“Not that I wouldn’t love talking to you more, but I have to get to bed now,” he continues, “It’s been a long, overemotional day, but I will see you in the morning. Good night my angel”

He winks and crawls under his sheets. I make my way to my bed and decide I need to sleep too. My mind has other ideas though and it keeps replaying all the thoughts from today. This morning, the formal was my biggest concern, now Morgan, my outburst at cheer, falling down stairs and the broken boy who was already asleep next to me consume me. My mind tries to process it all. At some point in my jumbled mess of a mind, I drift off, but am awoken to the sounds of petrified screams.

Author’s Note: Heyo readers! Thank you for anyone who has read the story up to this point! I know my updating has been all over the place, but I just don’t know how much of you are into the story. I would love to see some comments on if I should continue or any general suggestions. I just started school and am overwhelmed slightly, so some words from anybody who is reading would help if you would like you to see more writing up sooner! Once again, thank you for reading! I started screaming when I saw I had some votes on my earlier chapters. This is my first story so this is all new to me, so a huge THANK YOU!