Nothing I am, nothing I dream,
Nothing is new.
Nothing I think or believe in or say,
Nothing is true.
It used to be so easy
I never even tried
Yeah it used to be so easy
But the last day of summer never felt so cold
The last day of summer never felt so old
All that I have, all that I hold,
All that is wrong.
All that I feel for or trust in or love,
All that is gone.
It used to be so easy
I never even tried
Yeah it used to be so easy
But the last day of summer never felt so cold.
The last day of summer never felt so old.
The Last Day of Summer by The Cure
Tom
He didn't know exactly how long he had been in this place, only that when he first looked out of this window the heavy snow had been melting and giving way to cold icy rain. Now the trees were once again beginning to change colour and shed their heavy load onto the ground and there was a very noticeable chill in the mild autumnal air. He knew summer was on its way out again and he was pretty sure his 26th birthday had been and was now long gone, not that he had even noticed when it was, he certainly hadn't celebrated it.
The chill coming through the open window made him shiver as he sat and stared out over the idyllic green fields that surrounded the building, no doubt made to give the impression that this was some five star hotel, catering to the rich and shameless. The idea of the open windows still made him smile bitterly even after all this time. Of course, leaving windows open in this place didn't really present much of a danger seeing as how the bars on the other side of them made it impossible for anyone to slip out unnoticed. You're not prisoners here, they had constantly told him over the weeks and months he had been here, every time the bars had brought him out in a panic and cold sweat. The truth is he was no freer here than he had been in prison, only this time he had been put here by those he had thought he could trust, those who claimed to love him. He'd been wrong there hadn't he.
"Don't think that. It's not fair." he told himself for what seemed like the billionth time. "They were doing what they thought was best."
That's what all the doctors had told him, that's what he believed himself deep down when he thought about it. But thinking wasn't one of his favourite pass times these days. The truth was, even though he knew he had been a complete mess, a dangerous mess at that, he still couldn't help feeling betrayed and abandoned, even though, ultimately it had been his choice to cut himself off from them all by coming here.
He still couldn't understand why the face that looked back at him out of the small mirror every morning still looked so young when he himself felt so old and worn out. That wasn't surprising though. The ten months he had spent here had been the most difficult he could remember. All those things that had once come so easily and naturally to him he'd had to learn all over again. That smile that had once dazzled now felt false and out of place the handful of times it had spread across his face, sometimes even breathing was more than he felt he could cope with. But those were the bad days, and these were slowly becoming fewer and fewer. On his good days he even found himself thinking about the future, the one waiting for him on the other side of these walls. He didn't think he would ever really be himself again but at least he could do a good impression.
A couple of times he had even caught himself making plans. But this had filled him with terror, and he had cut it dead right away. He couldn't let himself think about the future, because it just reminded him that soon he would be able leave here and as much as he hated it, he didn't know if he could cope outside these walls. He didn't know if he could face what was waiting for him out there. An uncertain future away from everyone he cared for and everything he had ever known.
What would he do for money? A place to live? All he knew was being a cop and that was the one thing he knew he could no longer be it would most likely finish him for good. But what else could he do?
Was he still dangerous? That was what worried him more than anything. Once he was out of here would all his progress be for nothing? What if he forgot to take his medication or, worse, if it stopped working? He'd often forgotten to take his meds over the past few months after they decided he had made enough progress to responsible for this himself. By the time anyone realised, he was too far gone to be reasoned with and they had to force the drugs down him. He didn't know what he hated most, being out of control without the drugs or because of them. That was the awful truth, he was never in control anymore. Would he ever be again? All the talking and psych babble in the world had not been able to tell him this. All they ever said was he had "made progress". He supposed he had.
Sat by the window looking out over the peaceful grounds he thought back to the 1st session with Dr Lewis. Heavily medicated, tired and broken he had poured out everything he had been thinking.
"Tell me something. Do you really believe you did the wrong thing?" The doctor had asked.
"You know a few years ago I could've answered so easily. There would have been no question. The kid broke the law and had to pay the price." he said dully. "Everything used to be so easy, so simple. Everything black and white. You could see as plain as day what was right and what was wrong. But I haven't been able to see that for so long. That guy's gone. But that's your job isn't it? To get that guy back?" he said with a bitter and sarcastic smile.
"It's not my job to help you bring back who you were. You can't be that guy anymore. Trying to continue to be that guy after all you've been through was killing you Tom. My job is to help you know and deal with who you are now."
"How do I deal with who am I now. I'm everything I've been fighting against all these years."
"You talk like you're 70 years old and your life's over."
"Isn't it?"
"Far from it."
"I'm a murderer doc." he said, that glazed dead look flowing back into his dark eyes. "That's all I see when I look in the mirror."
"Like you said Tom, not everything is black and white. This is something you have to face and move on. You did what you had to. That boy was no innocent."
"Tell me something doc. Do you know what it's like to kill someone?"
"No I don't"
"Have you any idea what it's like to relive that moment over and over? To see someone's life drain away and know that you're the one who pulled the plug? Can you even begin to imagine how it feels to live with that day in and day out?"
"No Tom, I couldn't't."
"So how can you sit there and tell me that I can get past it?"
"Look Tom, I never said it was going to be easy. I won't lie to you; this will probably be the hardest thing you will ever have to do. But you can do it, you just have to want to."
"And what if I feel that this is what I deserve?"
"Do you?"
"Maybe."
"Tom, did you mean to kill him?"
"I don't know." He said quietly. "I must have done."
"Why?"
"If I hadn't meant to kill him I wouldn't't have shot him square in the chest, would I?"
"You were trying to save your partner, right?"
"That's what I keep telling myself."
"Tom, why do think so many people deny the existence of heaven and yet find it so easy to believe in the idea of hell?"
"What has that got to do with it?"
"It's because it's so much easier to believe the worst. We can all believe in the idea of evil and its existence in this world. You see it all around you, the awful things people do to each other. It's much harder to believe in the good intentions behind some of these acts, or the good that can come from them."
"What good can come from killing?"
"Look at it this way. What about all the stuff you hear about women killing their abusive husbands to stop them hurting their children? That's not done out of spite, hatred or any inner evil. It's done out of love and wanting to protect their children."
"That's different."
"You said your friend had a kid, right?" Tom nodded sadly, the vivid image of Doug and Clavo flashing before his eyes. "Well, because of what you did that kid still has your friend to love and care for him. You read about stuff like that every day, and you know what? Other cops that do what you did are considered heroes."
"That's bullshit!" he yelled. "There was nothing heroic about anything I did."
"Do you think things would have turned out better if you hadn't shot him?"
"I don't know."
"That's not good enough. I want you to really think about it. What would have happened if you'd have stood there and done nothing?"
"He would have lost his nerve and we could have all walked away from this."
"Are you absolutely sure about that? Can you be 100% positive that he wouldn't have hurt your friend?"
"No"
"And you couldn't take that chance."
"I guess I'll never know."
"Maybe not. Can you live with that?"
"I don't think so."
"You're going to have to Tom."
"I can't" he said, his voice small as he wrapped his arms across his chest and averted his eyes. "Once you know everything you'll think so too."
"Look, I don't waste my time on people I think are beyond my help. In my line of work time is too precious."
"You saying I'm not a complete lost cause?"
"No, far from it. But the most important thing in all this is that you believe you can get through this. Do you think you can do it?"
Now back in his room, huddled in the corner by the window with his knees drawn up to his chest, staring out at the same view knowing soon he would be leaving, he only had one thought.
"No, it's too hard. I can't do this." he whispered to the empty room.