Bear journals

- T h e E n d i n g -

They came.

It was a Sunday. I was lying on my bed, huddled under the covers to block out the sunlight coming through the window —trying to be optimistic about the silence below.

It was a Sunday. Everyone must be asleep, I'd reasoned. There was no need to panic.

But the little voice inside my head told me otherwise. They'd been acting distant all week. And my family never got up late.

9:17 pm, my clock suddenly beeped.

Almost immediately, someone knocked on the door.

A few minutes later, I heard footsteps and the distinct screech of a door opening.

I knew they were awake.

There was more shuffling and an exchange of whispered words. My breathing became shallow as I heard the word 'Marcus' and 'crazy' simultaneously.

She couldn't possibly have told them, could she?

More footsteps. A loud knock at my door. 

That's when they entered, snatching away the last shred of normality I had left in my life.

And I felt the sharp knife of betrayal cut through my skin right up to my throat, making me cry out in pain, as I saw my family appear behind them. My sight turned blurry. 

I couldn't let the tears escape. I knew they would be tears of blood. 

The very same blood that had betrayed me. Self-loathe followed the betrayal and all I wanted to do was rip my veins out. Rip out the connection I had with all of them.

I tore my eyes from their guilt filled eyes and took in the people standing before them.

A woman, flanked by two men on either sides walked up to me. She had a small, sympathetic smile and took slow steps towards me, afraid to break me. 

What she didn't know was I was broken beyond repair. Shattered glass can't break, can it?

She put a gentle hand on my shoulder and said something. 

But I couldn't hear a word.

Dad had a smirk on his face. Mom was crying. Ellie had tears in her eyes.

 I was numb.

Words floated around meaninglessly.

"We'll help you."

"Trauma"

"—with the help of other patients"

The hand on my shoulder gently guided me off the bed. Some more words floated in the air, but all I could do was stare at Ellie in pain. 

She'd told them. She told them everything I told her that night.

I simply stared through my lifeless eyes as they pushed me. So this was betrayal. 

I'd just reached the doorstep when Ellie broke free of dad's grasp and came running to me. She held the end of my shirt and sobbed. With the tears came the apologies.

Apologies that had no meaning now.

I looked at her. I looked into her eyes, hoping to see the sister I'd cried for. But all I saw, was a girl who'd never trusted me.

A girl who'd broken my trust.

I felt a hand pulling me backward. I let it take me away. But my eyes remained locked on Ellie.

I saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. Her hands outstretched towards me. Her lips shaping my name. Her eyes desperate for forgiveness.

I knew she was hurting.

But this time, I felt nothing. 

 I looked at the girl in the white dress crying for her brother. But I didn't see the meaning anymore.

So all I did was look. 

Look, as the door of the van opened. Look, as her eyes widened. Look, as she ran after the van, falling to her knees on the road, as it gained momentum.

I looked at the weeping family that was growing smaller and smaller as the seconds ticked by.

I looked.

Maybe I did belong to the place they were taking me to. Maybe I did belong in the mental asylum.

How much more could it hurt?

[Editor note]: This was the only journal page that hadn't been dated and timed. The sheet it was written on was not originally a part of the diary, but a crumpled sheet pinned to the last page. It is a widely believed notion that this was Marcus bay's last day.