"Compassion hurts. When you feel connected to everything, you also feel responsible for everything. And you cannot turn away. Your destiny is bound with the destinies of others. You must either learn to carry the universe or be crushed by it. You must grow strong enough to love the world, yet empty enough to sit down at the same table with its worst horrors." — Andrew Boyd
The apartment was empty now.
It was cold.
There was no laughter anymore.
Only silence.
There was no aroma of made from scratch food warming the house.
The air was musty and damp.
There was no life in this place.
There never would be again.
They were gone.
In the blink of an eye, he'd lost them both.
Audrey was gone.
Shawn was gone.
He was alone.
The silence was deafening.
It roared at him this was all his fault.
And it was.
He knew better than to get involved with either of them.
There was a reason he never made commitments to anyone but himself.
There was a reason he didn't allow himself to love anyone.
The reason was him.
He overstepped his boundaries with Audrey.
He overstepped his boundaries with Shawn.
He fell in love with Audrey.
He fell in love with Shawn.
He never should have spent time with her outside of the classroom.
He never should have taken him into his home.
They did not belong together.
She was too young.
He was someone else's son.
He belonged to himself.
He didn't fit with anyone else.
Yet everywhere he looked, there they were.
Shawn sat on the couch shoving Lucky Charms into his mouth while watching TV instead of doing his homework.
Audrey was in the kitchen asking him for help with the mashed potatoes.
He heard her laughter.
He heard him on the phone with Cory.
But neither were there.
The school board had taken her away.
They banned him from seeing her for a year.
Violate the terms and he'd never teach again.
Ever.
Chet Hunter had taken him away.
He banned him from seeing him outside of school.
Violate the terms and he'd never seen him again.
Ever.
An emotion unlike any he'd ever felt before clawed at his heart and entwined sharp talons into it. With a twisting yank, it released a deep pain that, like poison, infected his entire system.
He staggered against the couch. The one they so often fell asleep on together as they held onto each other.
Was this what a heart attack felt like?
It felt like his heart was being ripped apart.
Why had he gotten involved?
Why did he let them be taken from him?
They weren't his.
They never would be.
That's all there was to it.
He didn't want to get married.
He didn't want to be a father.
He didn't want that responsibility.
Suddenly, he couldn't breathe. He struggled to inhale a breath, then he couldn't exhale. Something from deep down inside was pushing its way up. He clutched at his chest.
He didn't want to die alone.
But he would.
It was his fault.
He should have resigned his position and gotten her help she needed.
He should have fought Chet and taken the teen back.
He should have been stronger.
For them.
For him.
He couldn't even think of their names anymore. The grief would kill him if he did.
Grief. That's what this feeling was.
He didn't know until this moment that grief could kill.
All the happiness of the last nine months was gone. No longer reality, just cruel, taunting memories of a time lost forever.
He understood now why Richie fell apart when Lizzy died- why he traded living for a hospice bed.
He wished he could become his mentor's roommate.
He would never be able to truly live again.
A pungent wave burned his throat as his agony saturated the floor at his feet.
He collapsed to his knees.
He could feel her small hand on his back and her soft voice in his ear.
But she wasn't there.
The wave came again and brought him down on all fours.
He could hear the padding of basketball shoes against the wood floor and the slap of hands hitting his. He heard the concern and worry in his voice.
But he wasn't there.
He rolled onto his back, gasping for breath, gasping for relief from the pain.
He didn't want to get married.
He didn't want to be a father.
He wanted to be her husband.
He wanted to be his father.
It would never happen.
An endless night was upon him.
He would never see the light of day again.
Grief would forever be his companion and Regret his master.
A soul-wrenching cry was heard from Apartment no. 8 and the agony-laced sobs continued long into the next day.
Jonathan Turner stood in front of his prison wall of regret that took the form of books, trying to decide which text to read. Finally, he reached up and took down one whose cover was hanging by a literal thread.
Reaching Your Prodigal: What Did I Do Wrong? What Do I Do Now?
He settled into the couch in the family room and began to read the book he could quote in his sleep.
Sometime later, a slim arm slipped around his shoulders. A soft hand gently took the book out of his.
Jon looked up into calm gray eyes.
She leaned over and kissed him softly.
"You need to let this go."
He sighed and buried his face against her. Suddenly it became hard to breathe.
"I can't, Audrey. I just can't."
She pulled away from him. He looked up in concern.
She ran her palm down the length of his face in a loving gesture. With great affection, she leaned over and rested her forehead against his. Then she took his left hand and gently caressed his wedding band.
"He's home, Jonny. Shawn is home for good."
AN: Just a reminder to those going through hard times, grief, distress, heartbreak: it's always darkest just before the dawn. Hang in there. Talk to someone. You matter.
