Jude didn't open Thom's diary until seven days after the funeral, which meant seven days after she and Skylar had stopped talking to each other. This was, of course, all Jude's doing, but right now, she just couldn't find the energy to return any of Skylar's calls.
She knew she was wrong for yelling at Skylar, and for not letting her anger go. But she was embarrassed. Embarrassed that she had brought her girlfriend to her ex-boyfriend's funeral, and embarrassed at how Thom's mother had reacted. If Skylar had never let it slip that they were together, Jude could have left the funeral knowing she'd never have to see his family again, but at least leave with some dignity. Up until then, they had thought Jude was a good person. They had thought she was the one that made Thom happy, but they had been wrong. Because Jude hadn't been that person, and Thom was never happy. She learned that on the Thursday following the funeral, at 8PM, when she decided to open his journal.
She remembered the first entry. It was the day she left Thom. She remembered the wrinkled page and the messy writing in blue ink, and the anger behind the words. This anger had been normalized throughout their relationship. Maybe if it hadn't been, she would have reached out to Thom, and stopped his suicide before it could have happened. Maybe if she had read the entire journal that day, things would be completely different.
But they weren't. He was dead, and she was in an apartment of her own, with a cold cup of tea beside her, and his journal on her lap.
She opened it, and read.
I don't think this is a very good idea. I've never really liked writing - never been that great at it, I don't think. (Not very good at anything...) The school counsellor told me to do it. He is a nice man, but he makes me nervous. I don't like telling people things about me - especially these things. He told me to write about them. He bought me the journal. If only he hadn't seen me after basketball practice. Then he wouldn't know. But he told me it doesn't matter because he isn't allowed to tell anyone about it anyway. That's what he said. I don't know if it's true. I'm not supposed to write about that, though. I'm supposed to write about my dad, and what he does to me. The school counsellor, Greg-he told me to call him that. He probably thinks I'll trust him more if I call him by his first name. Greg saw me after basketball practice. I always wait until all the boys have left the change room to take my shirt off. But Greg thought that the room was empty, and he walked in, and he saw the bruises that my dad gave me, and he said he couldn't just ignore it, even though I was crying. I've never cried in front of someone before then.
Jude swallowed roughly. That was exactly how Skylar had found out about Thom's abuse.
He told me he can help me, but I don't think he can. Anyways, I'm not supposed to write about him. I'm suppose to write about my dad.
I thought it was normal for dads to be kind of rough with their sons. But the guys on the team never have bruises, and their dads are really nice to them when they come to the games. But so is my dad, as long as other people are around. At home, though, he always talks about work. He usually gets very angry very quickly. And then he tells me to come with him, and always brings me to his bedroom. I hate that room, and I never go in it unless I'm with him. He usually just hits me with his fists on my chest and stomach, so that I can hide it. Sometimes, he gets really angry, and he'll start hitting my throat and my arms. It's like he loses control. When he does that, I have to wear huge sweaters. There's a lot more to it, but I don't feel like writing it all down. I don't see how it helps.
Jude wished the diaries were dated. But she knew that Thom played basketball in ninth grade, and stopped after that season. That must have been when the first entry came. She skimmed through the other pages, and was shocked, and a little disappointed, to find that only five pages following the first were filled. Thom had only written six entries in this journal.
The second was only half a page.
I hate how Greg-the school counsellor-makes me write in this. It would make sense if he wanted to read it, or something, but he doesn't. He says I should just write down how the abuse makes me feel. And he says I should just write about the abuse like it is, and I'll feel better. Something about getting it off my chest. But it doesn't make me feel better, it just makes me more angry. Greg knows what my father is doing to me, and instead of actually helping me, and getting me out of that house, he tells me to write down my feelings. He's pathetic.
Jude could feel Thom's anger beneath these words. He was betrayed by someone who knew this secret, by someone who could have helped him, and chose not to.
Jude had so many questions. When did the abuse begin? How often did it occur? Jude had never noticed. Maybe it had stopped by the time they started dating? If this was still ninth grade, it could have been a few months before they got together.
A thought occurred to Jude, then. Although she started dating Thom in ninth grade, she didn't see him without a shirt until tenth. And then, every time she saw him shirtless, it was dark. She couldn't recall ever seeing him in the light.
Was this a red flag? Should she have picked up on this? Did she, like Greg, have the power to help Thom, and fail to do so?
Jude was sobbing. Covering her hand with her mouth, she listened to the sound of her heaving sobs, so loud she wouldn't have been surprised if one of her neighbours came knocking on her door and told her to be quiet. But she couldn't help it.
And she couldn't have helped Thom. There was no way she could have known. It was a secret so well kept that it ended up killing the person it belonged to.
After a moment of trying to gather herself, she turned to the third entry. This page was dotted with circular marks, that left little wrinkles in the paper. Some of the ink was smudged. There had been tears on this page-Thom had been crying as he wrote this entry.
Jude banged her head against the back of the couch. She had never felt so bad for someone. Thom was dying, slowly, in his own home, killed by his own father. And the memory of it had been preserved in a diary that now belonged to Jude. It was useless. Reading the entries was never going to bring Thom back-it was far too late for that, Jude reminded herself with another sob-but it did answer some of the questions she had about the man she once loved, and the man who she had never known.
I haven't written in here in so long. I've argued with the counsellor so many times about it. I've told him it's not helping, that it in fact only makes me feel heavier.
The language was more mature in this entry. It must have come a year or two after the first and second ones.
So he let it go for a little while. But he told me that if something extreme ever occurred (though I wasn't sure how much more extreme it could be), I should write it down. He is convinced this diary is going to save me, but I'll be lucky if even I can save myself. I keep catching myself planning things...
Jude bit down on her thumb nail, trying to calm herself down.
I spent the afternoon at Jude's house.
Crying. A river wasn't large enough to describe the tears cascading down her hot skin. An ocean wasn't the right word, either. Tsunami-that was it. A mess of waves, crashing down. The only difference between her tears and a true tsunami was that true tsunamis usually injured hundreds of innocent people, while Jude was only injuring herself. And yet she was innocent, and this diary was what was hurting her. She was just a memory, just a piece of a life that was lost.
She went on.
Mom and dad know about Jude. They've met her, and they love her. Of course, I do too. She is the only thing that can distract me from all this. From what's inside my head. I quit basketball two years ago, as I was becoming anxious about other people seeing the bruises. So Jude is my only true distraction. She doesn't know, and I'll never let her know. Dad has never spoken about it-in fact, he's never acknowledged the abuse, as if he's not even aware he's doing it-but he'll never hit me if I'm going to see Jude in the following days. I suppose he doesn't want to get caught. But because it's Thursday night, and tomorrow is the beginning of the long weekend, he dragged me up the stairs and into his bedroom, and his fists were hot and heavy.
Here's the big thing, though. When dad was hitting me, I looked towards the door, and mom was there. She was watching. She looked uncomfortable, but she didn't step in. She watched all of it, until dad was done, and then she just gave me this look. It was like, apologetic, but clearly she doesn't feel sorry enough to stop it. So she knows about the abuse, and I can't help but wonder if she has known since it started three years ago, or if this was the first time she saw it. I have a feeling she knew before. She wasn't surprised. She gave me that look and then she walked out of the room. So there's another person that knows I'm being hurt by the man who is supposed to protect me, and isn't doing anything to stop it. If I could stop it myself, I would. But I can't talk about it. I have before, and it just meant that my dad hit me for twice as long as usual. I've always loved my mom the most. But this is unforgivable. I consider myself a parentless child now. I can't love them, and I can't consider two people who have trapped me in this home, and continued to hurt me, my parents, despite what biology says. I hate my father, and I hate Greg, and now I hate my mother, too. Jude is the only person I love.
Jude's shoulders were heaving, following the rest of her body. She had dropped the journal from her lap, and let herself hunch over her knees. She wouldn't be surprised if she was sick all over herself. The tsunami had reached her stomach, and she felt weak with sea sickness.
I loved you, too, Thom, Jude wanted to scream, but it was far too late, and she'd be yelling at a memory that she couldn't change. This was painful in every way, and yet Jude owed it to Thom to learn the truth about what happened to him.
But then what? Was she going to call his mom? His dad? Go back and see his family, confront them for what happened? For killing their own son? It wouldn't bring Thom back, and she didn't think it would bring him justice. But at least someone knew his story, now.
At least he wouldn't be alone anymore.
Deciding that that was what she was doing, making Thom feel less alone in the dark that was his entire life, she retrieved the journal from the ground, and flipped it open to the fourth page. There were no tears on this one, and Jude was hoping it would be a little happier. But from the first sentence, she knew it wasn't.
I don't know what is happening to me. It's like I'm becoming him, the man I hate the most. I've started doing things, and I can't control them. It's like I step outside of my body for a little while, and someone else takes over. But I know it's me, because I see the bruises, and hear the screams. And when it's done, when it's the next day, I hear it in their voices. They're afraid of me, just like I'm afraid of my father.
I have started to hit my brothers. There are five of them, and I have hit them all. I cry while I'm doing it. I can't control it. I don't know why I'm doing it. My dad has ruined me. He's turned me into the same monster that he is. I want to stop doing it, and I want my mom to stop watching my dad put his fists on me. I want to tell Jude that everything is wrong, but I want to pretend that I'm normal when I'm with her. But I am so far from normal. How can someone not control their actions? How can someone let this happen? I don't know. I don't know anything anymore, and I can't stop any of it. I've added a new person to the list of people that I hate. His name is Thom.
Jude didn't want to read the last two entries. This was not Thom. Thom was the frightened boy in the first entry who talked about basketball. This was the Thom that had moved to the city with Jude, that hadn't been able to control himself, and had become what his father was. Tentatively, she skimmed through the fifth entry.
I love Jude so much. She is the first person I truly care about, and she cares about me. She doesn't know anything about me, or my past. I feel like I can be a different person around her. And because of her, I get to escape this house. In one week, I'll be in my own house, with Jude. But I'm so afraid.
The past few months I have been trying to control my urges. My father is still beating me, which sucks because I've grown so much, but he is still taller, and stronger than I am. My mother still watches. I have tried to talk to my brothers, but they won't listen to me. I've hurt them, I've damaged them beyond repair. My only hope is that my father doesn't do the same things to them as he did to me, but I guess I already did that to them. I hope they don't become us. But I can't stay and try to save them, because this is my one way out, and I've been waiting for it for years, and I have to save myself first.
But I'm afraid of what I'm going to do when I'm on my own. It will be just Jude and I, which means if I'm angry, she will be the only person there. I'm going to try to be a normal person, but I'm scared that I'm going to hit her like I did to my
Jude closed the journal before she could finish. She threw it across the room, and closed her eyes before it could hit the drywall and land with a thud on the floor. There was still that sixth entry, but she was never, ever going to read it.
She didn't even know what to make of all this. All she wanted to do was get far, far away from it. And she knew someone who could help her with that.
"Jude?"
"Sky."
Skylar was breathing heavily into the phone. The sound actually calmed Jude's racing heart. "Are you crying, love?"
Jude ignored the question. Suddenly, she couldn't find her voice.
"Did you get my message? The one from a few a few hours ago?"
"No," said Jude, her voice cracking. "Listen, I don't care what the message said. Can you come over? I need you. And Sky?"
"Yes, yes, I'm on my way." There was faint shuffling in the background, and Jude knew Skylar was about to make a run for her apartment.
"Sky?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry. For everything."
A pause. Then, "Define 'everything' for me."
"For Logan. For your parents. For Mack. For me ignoring you. For your memory. For Thom."
Skylar laughed lightly, and said, "Then I guess you're apologizing on behalf of life. Don't worry, Jude. I'll be there in ten minutes."