WARNING: Triggering themes. Dark themes. Cutting and hints depression.
Summary: Wally is depressed and he hides his feelings of hatred for himself from all of his friends. He has to pretend to be happy. While he watched the love of his life date another man. His friends forced to sit and watch as he self-destructs. What hope is there for Wally?
The kids are 16, not part of any "next door" program, but at the age of 13 they were so close that no one could bear ripping away their memories of each other and destroying their childhood.
*~*Wally's P.O.V.*~*
I walked the school hallway pulling my orange hoodie farther down my arms to hide my pass time life choice that I not so recently picked up. I force a smile as my friends walk up to me at our usual morning meeting spot. And as of recently it has become my locker. I stopped at my locker just long enough to grab my books, yes I do my work. Shocking; and force a laugh at a joke Hoagie told before turning and walking to my first period class, advanced art. Again shocking Wally is taking an advanced art class; actually I have an A in that class.
Little known fact about me. I have a severe OCD. Only not the germaphobe or the phsyco repetitive tapping kind of OCD. No I am talking about the everything I look at I see multiple patterns. A tiled floor for instance, I see a pattern of 1 to 9 to 25 to you get my point. Or a pattern of 4 by 16 by etc. Maybe that is why I like fighting so much. There is a pattern to it. It wasn't until recently that I have been able to use it to help me get ahead with my school work. My doctor suggested using patterns to help with my classes. Yeah you are thinking I get art and math. Patterns are all throughout it. But English how does that work? Well there is a pattern to writing. And I see them. I've struggled with it my entire life. And My friends don't know. I already get enough pity from them.
I slip in my headphones and push open the door to my art class and give a nod to my teacher and sit at my work station to get ready to paint. Emotions on a canvas. That's what I call it. And well my stuff tends towards a darker tone. The class goes by relatively quickly, unfortunately. I share a math class with Hoagie and Nigel next period. Why can't it be Wednesday. Then I could just stay here and paint.
I only got halfway to my class before I saw Kuki and her boyfriend Gary sucking face right in the middle of the hallway. My breath caught, like it does whenever I see her with him. Deciding against going to class. Turning on my heel, letting my blond hair fall into my eyes like it used to do and made a beeline for the closest bathroom. Plopping myself on a toilet in a locked stall I rolled up my sleeve and traced one of the white scars on my arm.
Cutting is my pastime if you didn't get. It helps me get through my life. I can't control my OCD. I don't have the guts to ask out the love of my life. The angel to my world. Kuki Sanban. All my friends pity me. This is the only thing I can control in my life, and I hate it. I hate the fact that I am reduced to cutting to have any sort of feeling of control. Feeling my heart beat quicken at the ring of the bell I try and stop the oncoming panic attack. I screwed with a pattern. F*cked with a routine. My thoughts start going haywire. I started hyperventilating.
*~*Nigel P.O.V.*~*
Wally isn't here in math. Which is odd. He usually sticks to a routine. If he doesn't then he has a panic attack. He tries to hide his OCD, I don't see why. It's obvious, his grade skyrocketed. He does the same thing every day, in the same order, at the same time. He even comes to school when he is sick.
I remember this one time last year he had a very high fever and passed out in class, then begged to stay. That's what really made me realize how bad his OCD was. Then he had a horrible panic attack. This could be bad. My hand shot up "Mr. Thomas, may I use the bathroom?" He looked up not really caring and nodded.
Casually I walked out of the room before breaking out into a run. I had to find him fast. The last place I expected to find him was sitting in the nurses' office. Hesitantly I entered noticing he was shaking and breathing heavily. "Wally?" I asked. He looked at me and scooted over a little bit to give me room to sit.
"Did Mr. Thomas send you to find me?" He whispered.
"Nah." I shrugged. "He probably didn't even realize you were missing. Hogester on the other hand, probably noticed right away. Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I… I'm fine" He whispered again.
"You had another panic attack." He looked like he was going to argue. "Walls remember last year. I know. Everything. Were you ever going to tell us? Are you medicated? How long?"
"I don't know. I've been dealing with it my entire life you know. For the longest time, no one believed me. My family, the doctors, everyone thought I was lying. I was…"
"Afraid" I supplied so he didn't have to say it.
"Yeah. That. I mean what if you guys didn't believe me or… I couldn't take that chance. And yes. But only when I need to be. Usually, it's controlled if I stick to a routine. I missed class… My mom is on her way with them so I can get my day back on track." He paused. "Just don't tell anyone… please Nigel."
"Alright. Fine. I'll see you later. I have to get back to class."
I just barely heard him say "bye
*~*Wally P.O.V.*~*
"Mom please, just take me home." I argued in a hushed tone.
"Wallaby, what about you're routine? Isn't it best to just get back to it?" She argued back.
"Mom please. I'm begging you. I can deal once my meds kick in. I just don't think I could handle here right now. So please."
"Wally. Honey. Your doctor said getting back to a routine would be best when this sort of thing happens."
"Mom look at me. Take my hands. I'm shaking. I'm a mess. I can't go anywhere. Mom I just want to go home."
Sighing she gave in "Fine. But I have to go back to work. Then I'm going to Gretas. Your dad has to work late and Joey is going to the Gilligan's. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Yes. Mom. Can we go soon?"
"Yes. Yes. Let me sign you out." I followed mom to the car and climbed into the passenger seat. I was just lucky my mom was going into work late already. I sent out a mass text to my friends. It read: Going home guys. Don't feel well. See you tomorrow.
My mom dropped my off at home, and then had to leave right away to get to work on time. Turning off my phone. I tossed it on the bed next to my backpack on the bed and removed my hoodie and jeans. Leaving me in my boxers and t-shirt. Scars littering my arms. I reached under the bed and pulled out my "kit."
An hour later I lay there in a haze. Between my meds, that always make me a little hazy any way and my fresh cuts it was a no brainer. I may have cut a little too much, nothing to worry about. The bleeding will stop. Eventually. I was still shaking. Still breathing hard. Still panicking. Not as bad as before. Thank you meds.
I pulled myself off my bed and nearly threw myself into the toilet. When I felt comfortable enough that I wasn't going to get sick I made my way back to my room to retrieve my phone. Turning it on, it instantly went off. I got texts from everyone, all basically saying the same thing: Are you okay? I sent everyone but Nigel an: I'm fine should be back tomorrow. But sitting back next to the toilet I sent Nigel an: I couldn't pull myself together. I should be back tomorrow if I can pull myself together.
I spent the day switching between pacing the bathroom and worshipping the porcelain gods. I said meds help, but I broke my routine. I can't help the side effects. Or what happens during the panic attacks. Around the time school got out I got phone call from Kuki. "Hello." I croak out having just finished dry heaving.
"WALLY! ARE YOU OKAY?! I HEARD YOU WENT HOME SICK!" She yelled into the phone.
I winced her high pitched voice making my headache worse. "Kooks, please. Tone it down like three quarters of the way. My head is pounding."
"Oh sorry Wally. Are you okay though? You looked fine at your locker th…" She dropped the level.
I cut her off on the verge of being sick again. "Kooks. I have to call you back. I'd say could can come over, but I'm puking my guts up so I have to go" I hung up and barely got my head inside the bowl again cursing my mental illness. After this round of dry heaving I sat with my head against the toilet. That is until the doorbell rang. Mumbeling "Shit" I got up yelling "HOLD ON" I went to my room to grab my hoodie. I was pulling it on as I went down the stairs. I was fixing the sleeves as I landed on the first floor when the door burst open in the kitchen.
"Couldn't you have moved a little faster? Abby was starting to get worried about you." Abby said waltzing in. "Whew. Boy you stink."
"Abby. He's sick." Kuki said hushed.
Shaking I made my way past them into the kitchen to get a glass. "Listen guys. Not that I'm not glad to see you. But…" the glass slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. "Fuck"
"Wally, we aren't leaving you alone." Kuki said.
I slam my hand down on the counter. I really can't deal with this right now. I'm about to turn around when Nigel says, "Guys maybe we should leave him alone. If that's what you want Wally."
"Please. Just go." I almost beg.
There is a chorus of "bye Wally" as they left. Nigel was the only one left. Before he left he stopped and said "Don't push us away Wally. If you tell them we can help you"
"Nigel. You guys can never understand. So get out." I say storming upstairs leaving him to let himself out and the broken glass on the floor. I smiled when I heard him leave but I also frowned. Now I'm alone, left with nothing but my thoughts. I grabbed my razor from my box and rolled up my sleeve. 'They think you are lying' new cut. 'They pity you' new cut. It went on like this. I thought something, and made a new cut. 15 or 20 cuts later I packed up my "kit" and hid it under my bed again. I let the cuts scab up and sat in the bathroom in case my stomach decided to revolt again. And that is where I stayed.
*~* Wallys' Mom P.O.V.*~*
I entered the dark house with Joey behind me. My mind worried for my little kangaroo. Well my oldest kangaroo. "Joey, try and be quiet. If your brother is sleeping, I don't want you to wake him. Go on up and take a shower." He went upstairs and I entered the kitchen flicking on the light. Walking to the open cabinet to close it I stepped on broken glass. Sighing I leaned on the counter. I hoped it had been a good day. But from the looks of the broken glass, he hadn't stopped shaking. I tried to get him stay in school. I should have made him stay.
"Mommy." I looked up at Joeys voice, "Did Wally have another bad day?"
We had a long struggle with Wallys OCD about three years ago. It's some of Joeys first memories. He was four. Wally was thirteen. "What makes you say that?"
"He is asleep on the floor. Mommy what happened to Wally?" He was starting to get hysterical.
Sighing I sat him down "Joey." How do I word this? We skirted around this topic so much when Joey was little. "Wally is sick. Remember. Which is why he does everything the same why. His routine was messed up. I'll take care of him. Can you pick up the broken glass?" I left the room and climbed the stairs.
My heart broke as I entered the bathroom. Wally was curled up next to the toilet, passed out. "Wallaby?" I kneeled down shaking him. "Wallaby. Wake up my little kangaroo." He blurrily blinked his eyes open. "There's a good dingo. Have you eaten anything" He shook his head no. "Do you want to?" He gave another head shake. "Come on. Let's get you up." I grabbed his arm and pulled up my eldest. "Tomorrow will be better I promise." I let him lie down on his bed. "Tomorrow is a new day. New routine. Night sweetie.
There you go. Review. Feedback needed. There will be more. I have plans for this.
Until next time.
