How To Save A Life

Chapter Fifteen

2/29/16

Freedom of expression. That's what I saw. Freedom of speech. It's in the fucking constitution. Whose bright idea was it to make freedom of speech a right but yet we still can't use it? Spray painting my thoughts on a door is 100% freedom of speech. They tell us to express ourselves yet when we do we get in trouble by the police. Like, what the actual hell?! Isn't America supposed to have a bunch of rights and shit? How come we are told to do one thing and they turn it around on us when we do it? I'll get my revenge on the system.

My hand gripped tight to my pen as I wrote that at one in the morning. Staying up late was easy. Waking up was difficult. Same with life. Dying is easy. Living is difficult.

My journal entries haven't been as long as they use to be. Now, I just write enough to express my feelings for the day.

I put my pen down and closed my notebook. I took a chug of the beer that I took from the fridge after my parents went to bed. I groaned softly when my can was empty. I crunched it up and threw it in my waste basket in anger. I rested my head in my arms on the desk. I could just see out of the corner of my eye the dry blood on my forearm from earlier.

A few tears were forming in my eyes. I wasn't upset that I got in trouble. I was upset because this was never the way I planned to go out. No one plans to die with a gun to their head.

I leaned back and wiped my eyes before grabbing a cigarette from my packet that was lying on my desk. I placed the cigarette between my lips and grabbed my lighter which lied beside the packet. Before lighting it, I rolled my chair over to the window and opened it so my room wouldn't be just a big cloud of smoke and look like a druggy house. I rolled back over to my desk and proceeded to light my cigarette. I took a short drag and sighed out. I kept the cigarette dangling in my mouth as I started to pick at the dry blood and skin on my arm.

I sat there smoking my cigarette and picking at my arm until my cigarette was nothing but a stub. I smoked one more before finally deciding to head to bed. The following day was going to be a long one. I'll have to meet up with principle Young in the morning and then stay in the detention center until the final bell. You can't do anything inside that room. You basically just sit there for seven hours, watching the clock. Waiting to go home. I like getting suspended from school better than having in-school suspension.

Sometimes, I think that if I planned everything out sooner if I'd be able to do the shooting sooner just to get it over with because I am on the verge of a massive breakdown.

***

My mom and dad announced my punishment the falling morning. I am only allowed to drive to and from school. They took away my phone. And, I can't see my friends or contact them until my in-school suspension is over with. They also took away my computer.

I met up with Matt in the parking lot so we could walk to the office together. I could see the jocks at the front entrance of the school silently laughing at us. They made jokes and wise remarks as we walked passed them.

The school atmosphere felt oddly different today. It was that feeling that it was going to be different. Almost like that feeling walking into school on the first day.

"So, my mom definitely hates you," Matt said, breaking our long silence. "I'm not allowed to see you for the rest of the week including Sunday."

"Same. I can't see any friends outside of school until the in-school suspension is over." I paused for a minute. "I think I'm finally understanding why your mom hates me."

"She thinks you're a bad influence on me."

I scoffed. "Well, I am."

He opened the main office door, holding it open for me. "I can't believe you landed us here."

I lightly slapped him as I walked by. "Can you stop putting the blame on me?"

He closed the door behind us. "Well, it's true. You always land us in some kind of trouble." We took seats next to each other and waited for principle Young to come out.

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. "Why are you so pissed about this anyway?"

He imitated my stance and scuffed. "And you're not?"

I shrugged. "It doesn't matter anymore anyway."

Matt didn't get a chance to respond when principle Young walked out of his office. He stood there, looking at us with no expression identified on his face. He motioned his head into his office. "Come in." We followed principle Young into his office and took our seats in front of his desk. Principle Young didn't even bother taking his seat behind his desk. He just stood in front of us and leaned against his desk. "Before we discuss anything, I have a question for you two. Why did you spray paint the side entrance?" Matt and I didn't answer and stared down at our laps. "If you tell me why you did it then maybe I can set you two up in a diversion program to help with these anger and troublesome issues." Matt and I still didn't say anything. Principle Young looked over at me, expecting me the answer him. "Colin?" I just shrugged my response. He nodded. "How about this, if you two can go thirty days without any juvenile offenses, you don't have to do the diversion program. But, I will not hesitate sending you two there if this behavior keeps up." Matt and I nodded in understanding. Principle Young took a small notepad and pen off his desk and started scribbling in it. "You two are going to be in the detention center until three. Colin should know where that is," He said that sentence mostly to Matt because Matt has never gotten into this type of trouble before. I, on the other hand, have been in this type of trouble and worse for years. "You both get a lunch break at noon. You'll have permission to go get lunch from the cafeteria if needed. But, you have to eat lunch in the detention center. You understand all that?"

I leaned forward, about ready to stand up. "We get it. Can we go now?"

I was about to get fully up when principle Young stopped me. "Of course, you know." He looked over at Matt who looked just as ready as I did to leave. "Matt, you understand all this?"

Matt nodded and leaned up a bit. "Yes, sir."

Principle Young motioned his head towards the door. "You can get going. Go straight to the detention center. No going the long route or stopping to talk to your friends. Go straight down there and they'll let you go out to grab lunch in a few hours."

Matt and I stood up and walked straight out of the office without saying a word to principle Young. The staff watched us leave the office and the students who were in class when we got called out stared at us as we walked down the hall. Why does the detention center have to be at the other end of the school?

This is not what I want to happen within my last few months.

KNOW THE SIGNS:

-Gestures of violence and low commitment or aspiration toward school, or a sudden change in academic performance can be a sign that someone needs help.

-Perpetrators of self-harm or violence towards others may be victims to long-term bullying and may have real or perceived feelings of being picked on or persecuted by others.

- Lack of coping, anger management and/or conflict resolutions skills.

-Homicidal ideations

-Victim of constant social rejection or marginalization.

-Feelings of hopelessness, guilt or worthlessness (leading indicator to self-harm)

-Lack discipline- repeatedly fail to follow rules