AN: so... Hi! I really have nothing to say in this author's note, except, thank you for the reviews! I'm so glad ya'll like my writing as much as you do. And thanks to all my critics too! You made my writing better!
So... I'm thinking I'll update "Charlie Is Back," the Sam's PoV thing... What do you think?
IMPORTANT: I need songs for all the chapters! Please suggest some! Thanks! Also, this a two part thing. The songs for this two part thing is "Fix You" by Coldplay and "Last Hope" by Paramore.
Enjoy and review!
Sam's PoV:
...I opened the door to find Charlie sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, crying.
I was numb with shock and horror. I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there and watched him cry, and mutter things I didn't understand in an extremely pained voice. I tried to move my legs, and my knees gave out and I almost fell. I stumbled over to him, and sat down next to him. He didn't acknowledge my presence and kept crying.
"Charlie?" I whispered, but he didn't respond. I wrapped my arms around him and he put his head on my shoulder and kept crying.
"I can't stop it, Sam. How do I stop it?" What was he talking about?
"S-stop what, Charlie?"
"It just k-keeps spinning, all the time. I keep seeing it. It never stops." He sounded so pained, and I didn't know how to help him. I was clueless, worried, and really, very scared.
"What are you seeing, Charlie? Tell me," I whispered. I was crying too, it hurt so much to see him in that much pain.
"All their l-lives, all the time. It j-just keeps flashing in my head. And Aunt Helen, I can't stop s-seeing what she did to me, Sam," he stammered. My heart stopped. What did she do to him?
"What...what did s-she do?"
"S-she..." He didn't complete his sentence. I didn't say anything, because I didn't want to make him more troubled than he already was.
I grabbed a glass of water and said, "Here, have some water." He drank the glass of water and stopped crying. He just kept staring at this one spot on the ground, as if it were showing him something. I grabbed his shoulders and walked him to the bed. I sat down and he put his head on my lap and kept staring at the ceiling. I combed my fingers through his hair and told him to get some sleep.
"But what if I get bad dreams?" He asked.
"If you do, I'll be there to wake you up. Don't worry, Charlie," I assured him. He nodded and closed his eyes, and I felt his breathing slow down. I was glad he fell asleep, because I had time to think about what he was going through. I decided to finish reading the book, so I would know how it happened the first time and how much worse can he get.
I didn't know what to think about anything by this point. Charlie was asleep for at least three hours, and that gave me time to read the book. I found out so much about him. But his mental health was at a steady decline throughout the remainder of the book. Eventually I reached the part where we were in my room the night before I left for Penn State.
"So, tomorrow, I'm leaving. And I'm not going to let that happen again with anyone else. I'm going to be who I really am. I'm going to do what I want to do. And I'm going to figure out what that is. But right now I'm here with you. And I want to know where you are, what you need, and what you want to do."
She waited patiently for my answer. But after everything she said, I figured that I should just do what I wanted to do. Not think about it. Not say it out loud. And if she didn't like it, then she could just say so. And we could go back to packing.
So, I kissed her. And she kissed me back. And we lay down on the floor and kept kissing. And it was soft. And we made quiet noises. And kept silent. And still. We went over to the bed and lay down on all the things that weren't put in suitcases. And we touched each other from the waist up over our clothes. And then under our clothes. And then without clothes.
I still remembered it. It was beautiful, and it felt so right.
And it was so beautiful. She was so beautiful. She took my hand and slid it under her pants. And I touched her. And I just couldn't believe it. It was like everything made sense. Until she moved her hand under my pants, and she touched me.
That's when I stopped her.
This was a very important part for me, because I would finally get to know what happened that night. It was life or death now.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "Did that hurt?"
I shook my head. It felt good actually. I didn't know what was wrong.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"
"No. Don't be sorry," I said.
"But, I feel bad," she said.
"Please don't feel bad. It was very nice," I said. I was
starting to get really upset.
"You're not ready?" she asked.
I nodded. But that wasn't it.
I felt a little hurt when I read that. But I didn't want to jump to conclusions.
I didn't know what it was. "It's okay that you're not ready," she said. She was being really nice to me, but I was just feeling so bad.
"Charlie, do you want to go home?" she asked.
I guess I nodded because she helped me get dressed. And then she put on her shirt. And I wanted to kick myself for being such a baby. Because I loved Sam. And we were together. And I was ruining it. Just ruining it. Just terrible. I felt so terrible.
She took me outside.
"Do you need a ride?" she asked. I had my father's car. I wasn't drunk. She looked really worried.
I was really worried. He didn't look very well that night. He looked very troubled.
"No, thanks."
"Charlie, I'm not going to let you drive like this."
"I'm sorry. I'll walk then," I said.
"It's two o'clock in the morning. I'm driving you home." She went to another room to get the car keys. I just stood in the entry hall. I felt like I wanted to die.
"You're white as a sheet, Charlie. Do you need some water?"
"No. I don't know." I started to cry really hard.
"Here. Just lie down on the couch," she said.
She laid me down on the couch. She brought out a damp
washcloth and put it on my forehead.
"You can sleep here tonight. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Just calm down. Take deep breaths."
I did what she told me. And just before I fell asleep, I said something.
"I can't do that anymore. I'm sorry," I said.
"It's okay, Charlie. Just go to sleep," Sam said.
But I wasn't talking to Sam anymore. I was talking to someone else.
What? But...I was the only person in the room.
When I fell asleep, I had this dream. My brother and my
sister and I were watching television with my Aunt Helen. Everything was in slow motion. The sound was thick. And she was doing what Sam was doing. That's when I woke up.
So...
And I didn't know what the hell was going on. Sam and Patrick were standing over me. Patrick asked if I wanted some breakfast. I guess I nodded. We went and ate. Sam still looked worried. Patrick looked normal. We had bacon and eggs with their parents, and everyone made small talk. I don't know why I'm telling you about bacon and eggs. It's not important. It's not important at all. Mary Elizabeth and everyone came over, and while Sam's mom was busy checking everything twice, we all walked to the driveway. Sam and Patrick's parents got in the van. Patrick got in the driver's side of Sam's pickup truck, telling everyone he'd see them in a couple of days. Then, Sam hugged and said good-bye to everyone. Since she was coming back for a few days toward the end of the summer, it was more of a "see ya" than a good-bye.
I was last. Sam walked up and held me for a long time. Finally, she whispered in my ear. She said a lot of wonderful things about how it was okay that I wasn't ready last night and how she would miss me and how she wanted me to take care of myself while she was gone.
"You're my best friend," was all I could say in return.
She smiled and kissed my cheek, and it was like for a moment, the bad part of last night disappeared. But it still felt like a good-bye rather than a "see ya." The thing was, I didn't cry. I didn't know what I felt.
Clueless. That was the perfect word to describe me.
Finally, Sam climbed into her pickup, and Patrick started it up. And a great song was playing. And everyone smiled. Including me. But I wasn't there anymore.
Crap.
It wasn't until I couldn't see the cars that I came back and things started feeling bad again. But this time, they felt much worse. Mary Elizabeth and everyone were crying now, and they asked me if I wanted to go to the Big Boy or something. I told them no. Thank you. I need to go home.
"Are you okay, Charlie?" Mary Elizabeth asked. I guess I was starting to look bad again because she looked worried.
"I'm fine. I'm just tired," I lied. I got in my dad's car, and drove away. And I could hear all these songs on the radio, but the radio wasn't on. And when I got into the driveway, I think I forgot to turn off the car. I just went to the couch in the family room where the TV is. And I could see the TV shows, but the TV wasn't on.
Crap Crap Crap Crap. I did not like the sound of that. I really did not like that.
I don't know what's wrong with me. It's like all I can do is keep writing this gibberish to keep from breaking apart. Sam's gone. And Patrick won't be home for a few days. And I just couldn't talk with Mary Elizabeth or anybody or my brother or anybody in my family. Except maybe my aunt Helen. But she's gone. And even if she were here, I don't think I could talk to her either. Because I'm starting to feel like what I dreamt about her last night was true. And my psychiatrist's questions weren't weird after all.
Oh crap.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I know other people have it a lot worse. I do know that, but it's crashing in anyway, and I just can't stop thinking that the little kid eating french fries with his mom in the shopping mall is going to grow up and hit my sister. I'd do anything not to think that. I know I'm thinking too fast again, and it's all in my head like the trance, but it's there, and it won't go away. I just keep seeing him, and he keeps hitting my sister, and he won't stop, and I want him to stop because he doesn't mean it, but he just doesn't listen, and I don't know what to do.
Charlie, why didn't you tell me? I could've been there for you, I could've helped you get through the tough time you went through. I could've been a friend to you, but you didn't let me in.
I'm sorry, but I have to stop this letter now.
But first, I want to thank you for being one of those people who listens and understands and doesn't try to sleep with people even though you could have. I really mean it, and I'm sorry I've put you through this when you don't even know who I am, and we've never met in person, and I can't tell you who I am because I promised to keep all those little secrets. I just don't want you to think that I picked your name out of the phone book. It would kill me if you thought that. So, please believe me when I tell you that I felt terrible after Michael died, and I saw a girl in class, who didn't notice me, and she talked all about you to a friend of hers. And even though I didn't know you, I felt like I did because you sounded like such a good person. The kind of person who wouldn't mind receiving letters from a kid. The kind of person who would understand how they were better than a diary because there is communion and a diary can be found. I just don't want you to worry about me, or think that you've met me, or waste your time anymore. I'm so sorry that I wasted your time because you really do mean a lot to me and I hope you have a very nice life because I really think you deserve it. I really do. I hope you do, too. Okay, then. Goodbye.
Love always,
Charlie
Oh my god. That...that sounded suicidal! Charlie was suicidal, oh my god. He didn't...he didn't do anything stupid, right? I mean...he's right here on my lap, he didn't try to do anything stupid...right? I thought the book had ended there, but there was an epilogue. I thanked God. I thanked everything and I apologised for all the sins I'd committed.
epilogue
August 23, 1992 Dear friend,
I've been in the hospital for the past two months.
They just released me yesterday. The doctor told me that my mother and father found me sitting on the couch in the family room. I was
completely naked, just watching the television, which wasn't on. I wouldn't speak or snap out of it, they said. My father even slapped me to wake me up, and like I told you, he never hits. But it didn't work. So, they brought me to the hospital where I stayed when I was seven after my aunt Helen died. They told me I didn't speak or acknowledge anyone for a week. Not even Patrick, whom I guess visited me during that time. It's scary to think about.
Patrick told me about that. He was very sad, and very worried.
I don't really want to talk about the questions and the answers. But I kind of figured out that everything I dreamt about my aunt Helen was true. And after a while, I realized that it happened every Saturday when we would watch television.
I couldn't believe it. It couldn't have been true. As much as I wanted it to not be real, I had to accept that it was true. I started crying when I read his family's reaction.
The first few weeks in the hospital were very hard.
The hardest part was sitting in the doctor's office when the doctor told my mom and dad what had happened. I have never seen my mother cry so much. Or my father look so angry. Because they didn't know it was happening when it was.
But I felt better when I read the next part.
But the doctor has helped me work out a lot of things since then. About my aunt Helen. And about my family. And friends. And me. There are a lot of stages to these kinds of things, and she was really great through all of them.
The thing that helped me the most, though, was the time I could have visitors. My family, including my brother and sister, always came for those days until my brother had to go back to school to play football. After that, my family came without my brother, and my brother sent me cards. He even told me on his last card that he read my report on Walden and liked it a lot, which made me feel really good. Just like the first time I saw Patrick. The best thing about Patrick is that even when you're in a hospital, he doesn't change. He just cracks jokes to make you feel better instead of asking you questions about feeling worse. He even brought me a letter from Sam, and Sam said that she was coming back at the end of August, and if I got better by then, she and Patrick would drive me through the tunnel. And this time, I could stand in the back of the pickup truck if I wanted to. Things like that helped more than anything.
The days when I received mail were good, too. My grandfather sent me a really nice letter. So did my great aunt. So did my grandma and Great Uncle Phil. My Aunt Rebecca even sent me flowers with a card that was signed by all my Ohio cousins. It was nice to know that they were thinking about me just like it was nice the time Patrick brought Mary Elizabeth and Alice and Bob and everyone for a visit. Including Peter and Craig. I guess they're friends again. And I was glad they were. Just like I was glad that Mary Elizabeth did most of the talking. Because it made things feel more normal. Mary Elizabeth even stayed a little later than the others. I was so happy to have a chance to talk with her alone before she left for Berkeley. Just like I was happy for Bill and his girlfriend when they came to see me two weeks ago. They're getting married this November, and they want me to go to their wedding. It's nice to have things to look forward to.
I felt extremely proud of Charlie when I read on.
The time it started to feel like everything was going to be all right was the time when my sister and brother stayed after my parents had left. This was some time in July. They asked me a lot of questions about Aunt Helen because I guess nothing had ever happened to them. And my brother looked really sad. And my sister looked really mad. It was at that time that things started to get clearer because there was nobody to hate anymore after that.
What I mean is that I looked at my brother and sister, and I thought that maybe someday they would be an aunt and uncle, just like I would be an uncle. Just like my mother and Aunt Helen were sisters.
And we could all sit around and wonder and feel bad about each other and blame a lot of people for what they did or didn't do or what they didn't know. I don't know. I guess there could always be someone to blame. Maybe if my grandfather didn't hit her, my mom wouldn't be so quiet. And maybe she wouldn't have married my dad because he doesn't hit. And maybe I would never have been born. But I'm very glad to have been born, so I don't know what to say about it all especially since my mom seems happy with her life, and I don't know what else there is to want.
It's like if I blamed my aunt Helen, I would have to blame her dad for hitting her and the friend of the family that fooled around with her when she was little. And the person that fooled around with him. And God for not stopping all this and things that are much worse. And I did do that for a while, but then I just couldn't anymore. Because it wasn't going anywhere. Because it wasn't the point.
I read something I don't think I'll ever forget.
So, I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them.
I think that if I ever have kids, and they are upset, I won't tell them that people are starving in China or anything like that because it wouldn't change the fact that they were upset. And even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesn't really change the fact that you have what you have. Good and bad. Just like what my sister said when I had been in the hospital for a while. She said that she was really worried about going to college, and considering what I was going through, she felt really dumb about it. But I don't know why she would feel dumb. I'd be worried, too. And really, I don't think I have it any better or worse than she does. I don't know. It's just different. Maybe it's good to put things in perspective, but sometimes, I think that the only perspective is to really be there. Like Sam said. Because it's okay to feel things. And be who you are about them.
I read the end, where we go through the tunnel again, and how he starts crying because he felt aware. And I started crying, because after everything he'd gone through, he still didn't blame his aunt for being the cause of his suffering. He was right, in the end, blaming doesn't take you anywhere, it isn't the point. I decided then that I wouldn't let him get that bad again. I decided to be there for him and get him out of this bad place he'd ended up in. No matter what it takes.
I set the book aside and wiped my tears. I felt Charlie's head move and I realised I couldn't feel my legs, I guess that's because I'd been sitting like that for quite some time. I felt him stir again and started freaking out about him having a bad dream. Until I heard his sleepy voice.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"You stayed." What did that mean?
"Why wouldn't I?"
"I thought I scared you."
"You did, Charlie. But I'm scared for you, I'm not scared of you. I'm going to stay, and I'm going to help you get better and figure it out, okay? I'm not going anywhere."
"Thanks, Sam." I smiled and nodded.
He looked at his book and looked at me.
Before he asked me anything, I said, "I know now, Charlie. And I am very proud of you. You're very strong." I knew he wouldn't believe me, but I meant everything I said.
"You really think so?" He asked, looking better than before.
"I know so. I wouldn't have been able to go through all that without quitting. You went through it alone, and you moved on. I couldn't have done that. Honest."
"I had all of you," he said.
"But we didn't know what was happening to you when it was, Charlie. You faced it alone, and kicked some serious butt."
He laughed a sad kind of laugh at my compliment.
We were quiet.
I said, "Charlie?"
"Yes?"
"I need you to talk to me."
"About what?"
"About you. I want to know what's going through your head right now. I want to know what you're feeling, what you want and what you need."
He straightened himself in my lap and looked at me right in the eyes. He changed my perspective about everything when he started talking.
