Title: Fear
Author: Sassy
Rating; PG-13, deals with suicide.
Show: Jump
Genre: Angst
Summary: Adam thinks back to the day his mother died. Middle of Jump
Disclaimer: Still don't own them, but I'll gladly take Adam on loan.
AN: Thanks again to Ana. You are such a great beta. You really make me feel more confident in posting these stories!
Fear
Adam Rove collapsed against his bed. He was thinking about that day again. He thought about it way too much, as far as he was concerned. Unfortunately for him, it was one of the first things he thought about when he woke up and one of the last things he thought about when he went to bed. That day had haunted him for years and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to move on. The recollections had only increased after Joan had smashed Ascension, but it was usually just bits and pieces. Not the whole occurrence. But, in a way that only Joan could, she had made him remember everything. He rarely thought about the note. He tried to put it completely from his mind. Joan had barged in and started talking about suicide and wondering and pain and suddenly, all he could think about was that day, that note.
Thirteen-year-old Adam Rove walked down the street with his best friend, Grace Polk. Of course, neither of them would admit they were best friends, but it was kind of unspoken. He'd known Grace since he was three. They had lived a block apart for ten years and they'd grown up together. Since they'd started middle school, they stuck together. Adam liked to make art sculptures, which not many people knew. He did it after school, like any other boy would play football or basketball. Adam wasn't just any other boy, though. Nor was Grace just any other girl. Grace was young, but she'd already decided to rebel against the system. Adam wasn't even sure what that meant. He didn't know what 'the system' was. He never bothered to ask. He was kind of afraid of her answer. They had the same last hour, so they walked home together. It was the middle of November. He shivered and groaned.
"What's wrong, Rove?"
"I left my jacket in my locker. My mom's going to kill me. She doesn't want me to get sick and she swears I will if I don't wear my coat."
Grace shrugged. "Do you want to go back and get it?"
He sighed. "Not really. I'm almost home."
"Good, because I wasn't going to go back."
Adam laughed. Grace was so blunt. That was one of the best things about having her for a friend. She never tried to protect him. She paused as they reached his one-story house, in front of the fence. Several of his hand-made wind chimes jangled as the gentle wind breezed by.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Rove."
"Bye, Grace."
He opened the gate and hurried up the pathway. He dreaded having to confront his mother about not having his coat. She would be disappointed that he hadn't paid any attention to her warnings, then she would give him a hug and a kiss and everything would be okay. He just wished they could skip the disappointed part. He opened the door and entered the hallway. The door slammed with a resounding bang.
Elizabeth was usually in the kitchen when he came home. She was one of those really happy stay-at-home type moms that loved to bake cookies for him when he got home. That is, if she wasn't in one of her depression spells. She usually sucked it up when he was around, because she didn't want to worry him. Not that he didn't notice. He always did. She always called him her dear, perceptive boy. Elizabeth wasn't in the kitchen that day, though. Adam searched the house, the living room, the kitchen, and the dining room. She was nowhere to be found and she hadn't left him any kind of note to tell him she would be gone.
"Mom?"
He received no answer.
"Mama?" Adam called a little louder. He still didn't get a reply. The house was dark, no lights on, no television sounding in the background. That worried him. He tried to remember if she had an appointment. She usually told him in the mornings. He couldn't remember that she had said anything.
"Mama?!" He shouted out to the empty house. He stopped in front of his room. He peeked in, but she wasn't there. All that was left was his parents' room and the bathroom. The door to their bedroom was shut, so he knocked lightly. No one answered. He slowly opened the door and scanned the bedroom. No one. He walked on through to the bathroom and the door was shut again.
"Mom?" He knocked on the door. Nothing. He tried to open it, but it was locked.
He pounded on the door again, but got no reply. He worked on the knob and felt around the doorframe for the key. He found it and placed it in the keyhole. His heart was in his throat. He didn't know why he was so afraid. He was actually scared to see what was in that room. He turned the knob and peered inside the room. His mom was there. Adam felt relieved. She must have fallen asleep. She got tired sometimes. Of course, it was kind of weird that she'd sleep on the bathroom floor, but at least he'd found her. He walked in and shook her. She didn't open her eyes. He shook her again. She didn't hardly move.
"Mama, wake up. I'm home. I got an A on that History project you helped me with."
She wouldn't wake up. Suddenly, it struck him. Her chest wasn't moving. She wasn't breathing. He looked around the room again and found an empty bottle of pills next to her. They were her anti-depressants. But every pill was gone. It was just a bottle. He glanced up, becoming more and more frantic. He saw an envelope stuck in the mirror. No, it was two envelopes. It didn't really register, though. He hurried away and dialed 911.
"My mom, she's not breathing. I think-I think she over-dosed. Please. Come quick."
He gave them the address and hung up. He wasn't supposed to hang up. He was supposed to stay on the line with them, so the dispatchers could talk to him. He didn't care.
Adam started to cry. He hated crying. It gave him a headache. But he was so scared. He pulled his mother's head into his lap and started to rock her. Maybe she would wake up if he hugged her and helped her out of the depression again. She was cold. She was so cold. Adam closed his eyes, trying to suppress the tears, but he couldn't. They flowed freely from his eyes and fell down onto his mother's forehead. The ambulance arrived. The police arrived. The paramedics tried to take her away, but Adam wouldn't let them. If they took her away, she might never come back. The paramedics looked at him with sympathy, but he didn't care. His father arrived. Carl Rove stood in the doorway, watching the scene before him. And he felt completely and utterly helpless. "Adam."
"Dad? Mom won't wake up."
Sub-consciously, Adam knew she was dead. In fact, he knew she was dead even in his daze. He just didn't want to believe it.
"Adam, come here."
"I can't leave her. You know she hates to be alone when she's like this."
"Yes, Adam. I know. She's not alone anymore. Come here, Adam."
Adam gently let his mother's head lay back on the ground and he walked obediently to his father. Carl hugged Adam, tears filling his eyes. The paramedics placed Elizabeth on a gurney and Carl stepped away with Adam. They watched them roll her away and a police officer came to stand in front of them.
"She left you these, Sir, on the mirror. I'm sorry for your loss."
Carl nodded politely as the police officer walked away. He glanced at the envelopes; in Elizabeth's neat writing were Adam and Carl on each envelope. Adam looked up at his father.
"She's not coming back, is she?"
"I'm sorry, Adam. She's not."
Adam stared at the letter his father had handed him like it was a ticking bomb. And he ran.
Adam was crying then. He was huddled in a fetal position on the carpet in his room. The envelope, yellowed with age, lay in front of him. He stared. The firm writing of his mother stared back at him. Adam. He didn't know what to do. Open it? He couldn't. He could hear her, "Adam, put your coat on right now. I don't want you getting sick on me."
"Oh, Adam, this is so beautiful. I love your work. You're my talented boy, aren't you?"
"I really do feel fine, my dear, perceptive boy. I am just fine. Don't worry about me."
He hadn't worried about her enough. He hadn't pleased her enough. He ignored her when she told him to wear a coat. He never made her enough art. He didn't make her happy. He was an annoyance. She had left him because she couldn't deal with him anymore. She was tired of putting up a front for her son. He had driven her to it. No. He couldn't read the note. It was too hard. He wasn't prepared for what was in it. He didn't want to be.
