People change. It's the nature of life really, nobody is constant. Everyone we meet, everything we do and everything that we see, it all adds to who we are and what we are until sometimes there is nothing much left of who we once were.
And change doesn't have to be a bad thing. We all need to learn and grow and become the people we are meant to be, the people that we really are deep inside. But sometimes the things that change you make you forget that person you thought you were, that person you wanted to be and turn you into someone else. Sometimes in changing you lose sight of everything that went before, everything that was important and, if you're really unlucky, you lose yourself.
And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.
John Paul McQueen had changed. Everyday Myra saw a little more of her son fading away and she didn't know what she could do to help him. She didn't know if there was any way to help him.
She could pinpoint the exact moment when it first began, when she looked at him and saw a difference. That September afternoon when John Paul had walked back into the house without a word Myra had seen the change. The spark of life in his eyes had gone, extinguished by tears and pain and the boy that was left was a little bit less than he had been.
Since that day Myra's son had become more distant until she was starting to wonder if she even knew him at all. She didn't recognise him as the little boy who had once sat on his mother's knee for comfort, accepting the warmth of her arms while she soothed his troubles away.
It was as if he didn't need her comfort any more, or perhaps it was more that he didn't want it. There was a cold emptiness in John Paul's once bright blue eyes and a look from them would sometimes give Myra chills as she wondered where her son had gone, and if she would ever get him back.
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me 'til I'm sane.
You lock the door
And throw away the key
There's someone in my head but it's not me.
John Paul looked at himself in the mirror and sighed. He no longer recognised the face that stared back at him. Had his eyes once been blue? They now appeared grey, dull and lifeless, a window to a soul that wasn't there anymore. The dark rings beneath his hollow eyes implied countless nights without sleep, but in truth there were many days and nights when all he did was sleep. Hours of endless slumber but no rest, and no peace.
Running his hand over his heavily stubbled cheek John Paul turned away from his reflection. There was nobody there he wanted to see. There was nobody there.
Tightening his belt around the top of his arm John Paul felt the familiar heavy beat of his pulse as it struggled to force blood past the restriction, his veins swelling slightly as he slapped against them.
He gasped for a second, a sharp breath that filled his lungs with air, as the tip of the needle pierced his skin. He could never quite get used to the sensation of the cold metal pushing through and entering his body like that, but he knew that discomfort would quickly be forgotten as he drove the contents of the syringe into his vein.
Loosening the belt John Paul felt the welcome rush as the drug cascaded through his body, touching every inch of him in a way that nothing else ever could.
Falling back onto his bed John Paul sighed. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him. Only a few months earlier his family had been in panics when they believe Michaela had become involved with heroin. How was it that nobody saw the signs in him? Why did nobody need to save him? Why did nobody care?
Closing his eyes John Paul let the drug envelope him, taking away every moment of pain and disappointment, taking away the heartache and the regret, taking away every last speck of John Paul McQueen until there was nothing left but a numb shell. Until John Paul McQueen was gone.
As his consciousness began to seep away John Paul's arm fell limply over the edge of the bed, the empty syringe falling from his hand and coming to rest inches from his fingertips. The rise and fall of his chest slowed until it was almost imperceptible and the escape was complete.
And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear.
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.
Myra McQueen had worried for some time that she was losing her son, but nothing had prepared her for the sight she witnessed when she pushed open his bedroom door.
Her beautiful young son lay sprawled across his bed. Obviously unconscious but possibly worse. The circle of his belt was still looped around his arm and his hand pointed downward to the empty syringe on the floor. A line of white foam trickled from the corner of his mouth, pooling against the soft blue of his pillow.
Myra's screams echoed around the house and two of her daughters were at her side in seconds. The three women reaching for the support of each other as, one by one, they took in the vision before them.
Jacqui was the first to find the ability to move, racing to her brother's side, gripping his shoulder firmly as she shook him, urging him to wake up, praying that it wasn't too late. The sound of a soft breath from John Paul's lips caused tears of relief to wash over Jacqui's cheeks.
"Mercy phone an ambulance," she yelled, turning to her sister who was still standing paralysed in the doorway. "Mercy… NOW!"
And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.
People change. It's the nature of life really, nobody is constant. Everyone we meet, everything we do and everything that we see, it all adds to who we are and what we are until sometimes there is nothing much left of who we once were.
John Paul McQueen had changed, he had lost himself in the darkness until he couldn't see any possible way back to the light and all that he craved were those moments of total emptiness when he couldn't think or feel, when he just existed.
But the darkness wasn't absolute as a small speck of light, of life and hope, still shone in the distance. And from that light came a hand, holding onto him, pulling him back and urging him not to give up.
Myra McQueen had worried for some time that she was losing her son and the day that she almost did would haunt her for the rest of her life.
It was a day filled with regrets and accusations, self-recriminations and blame.
It was a day to start again, to move forward, to fight, to never give up.
It was the day Myra McQueen picked up a phone and called Craig.