Seconds and the Kirstenator
The weekend passed by in a blur. I know I should be damn fucking sad, but I feel nothing. Instead of crying I spend most time of the weekend playing videogames with Seth or doing homework. But I'm deadly tiered. I didn't sleep a second the last days. Something is bothering me. I only don't know what it is. I'm only aware of that it bothers me badly.
"Ryan, dude, do you come? Borky boy won't be too happy if you come too late to his history class." Seth teases me. I roll my eyes. History. I could puke over the hallway floor by only thinking about it.
"I hate history." I state and then we go to the classroom. I take my usual place in the back row. I try to be invisible for him. That's all. Shit. My head's killing me. No, I don't feel too well today. That needs to be changed – rapidly! I can't afford to lose energy in class.
"Good morning class." The teacher comes in. "Because of current occasions I'd like to talk a little about the history of Arabian countries, in first place the development of the Iraq." Oh no. This wasn't good. I feel my stomach starts hurting. I catch a concerned glance from Seth. I only shrug my shoulders. I only have to stay calm. This has nothing to do with me. There's nothing to worry about. Okay, at least I can convince my head. My body doesn't understand.
"We start with some news I've tapped over the weekend. We watch them and then discuss what was on the report." Okay, things can get worse. But Friday doesn't belong to the weekend, right? No, it doesn't. It's the last day of the week. It is an end. I concentrate on my breath. Why am I afraid of this topic?
"We start with the news from Friday evening." Well, no. I don't need them. I had them once and no I can't say I took it well. I have no clue what a second time can cause. I only need to avoid this single news report. It should be possible.
"Uh…Dr. Bork…could…could I leave the room for a second. I…don't feel to well." And this wasn't even a lie. I just leave out the reason why I don't feel well.
"Mr. Atwood, don't you think I know all excuses for getting a break from classes?" I forgot he hates me and would never believe me.
"Dr. Bork, Ryan is really a bit under the weather." Seth tried to help me.
"Mr. Cohen, it's really nice that you want to help your friend. But I don't think you can judge the situation by seeing Mr. Atwood five minutes before class." He has really no clue.
"His parents are my foster parents, meaning we live under the same roof." I only answer.
"I didn't think you already intruded into our society that far." I don't think he's allowed to say things like that. He turns his back towards us and starts the tape. I'm not going to see that again. I don't want to feel this…again…I can't. The tape runs. A new attack shocked Bagdad. Only six more seconds. Five. While a routine mission tow manned car of the US Army. I can't bear to see this again. Although his picture didn't appear on the screen yet, I feel as if my chest starts to burst. I already know that my Dad died in one of the most unnecessary wars. I don't need to see it again. And I don't want to be gossip topic number one among the other students. My heart beats faster. Four. Fall victim to a bomb attack which forces two more death. My head is close to explode. I have trouble with vision and I can't breath. I can't tell what this is. I can't breath. Three. In history of Iraq Crisis. My head is killing me. I can't breath. I'm not thinking about anything. I take my bag and head to the classroom door.
"Mr. Atwood I didn't allow you to leave." I don't care. He stands in my way. Two. The state grieves for Robert Manson.
"I need to get out now!" He shakes his head. One. And Frank T. Atwood. Bang! It feels as if my head explodes. I push Dr. Bork out of my way and storm out. I can't breath, I can't see. My vision starts to blur.
"Mr. Atwood, come back, immediately!" I hear him scream. "Mr. Cohen!" My head starts to spin. I don't know where I am. I can't breath.
"Ryan, man?" It's Seth I can make it out of the voice but…my vision blurs more. My legs feel numb and my surrounding turns black. I'm safe. I hear someone calling my name and some other voices, but I don't care. I sink deeper and deeper into the darkness.
I feel something warm and soft at my cheek.
"Ryan, sweetie." I hear voices. Female and known. I don't want to wake up. I don't want to face cruel reality anymore. I want to leave it all behind. I don't want my part overhauling me everyday – every fucking second.
"C'mon honey. You can't do this to me." Did anyone ever thought about what they were doing to me? I don't want to wake up. I want to start from new somewhere in the darkness, without the heavy bag called past. But with every second it gets harder and I slowly open my eyes. A too bright light shines above me.
"Hey, Ryan. How are you?" I turn me head. It's Kirsten. What is she doing here? She's supposed to be in the office and I can't imagine the lights in school being that bright.
"What happened?"
"You collapsed at school. You're in a hospital." What? No. No. No. But it explains the bright light.
"Can…can we go now?" I ask her. She still strokes my cheek gently and the touch feels warm and comfortingly.
"Not now. When the IV is finished." IV? I look down my body and really, there's a needle sticking in the back of my hand.
"This isn't good, or?" I ask her. I'm afraid. I never woke up in a hospital with a black out. I don't like it here. And hell. In school? They're going to talk about this until I've graduated and longer.
"You're very exhausted. Did you sleep at all in the last days?" She asks me. I only shake my head. I feel like breaking into tears right now and I can't tell why. Fuck! What's wrong with me? Since months I'm an emotional wreck, but now I feel as if I'm insane. I swallow hard several times. I don't want to cry.
"I thought that. This is all a little too much, hu?" She says. A little? "I talked to Dr. Kim. You're released from school for next couple of days, maybe weeks. Depends on how long you need to get back on tracks." No! How will I ever get back to my former grades? I can't stay at home for so long.
"But I have to…"
"That's not going to be discussed. Ryan, you had a break down. That's quite serious in your age. Besides we'll have to find a solution concerning you history class." Can the problems start to find another victim? I have enough crises. I don't need anymore.
"He feels quite bad about this incident." She goes on. I don't care right now. I only wanna leave.
"And now close your eyes and try to sleep a little."
"I don't think I can sleep."
"Then just rest. You need it."
It had taken two hours until the IV was finished. The ride home was quiet. We arrive.
"You go upstairs and lie down again." She commands. I don't like that.
"I'm not sick or…"
"Ryan! You go and lie down. I bring you some lunch later." Am I allowed to feel like a child of the age of five?
"But…"
"Ryan, bed now! That's the safest place for you in the moment." I look at her and I can say: I have not the slightest chance, thus I obey. It still sucks to live on the same floor with the rest. And I don't know why. I'm afraid of losing my privacy, although the only change is that I sleep in the main house now. I'm staring at the ceiling for a while and after I have enough I go and fetch my books out of my bag. I can use the time to study. I really need to. I turn onto my stomach and start to read.
"Ryan! What are you doing and why aren't you in bed?" She sounds a little hysterical.
"Because you said I shell lie down and I'm lying." She's smothering me with all her concerns and mothering. I can't do this. I'm not…like Seth who would feel like in heaven. I'm used to deal with me and my problems on my own. I know better what's good for me and what's not. How can she know anyway? She didn't see me growing up. She has no clue.
"C'mon Ryan. Seth never needs to be told twice to go to bed due the day."
"But I'm not Seth." No, I don't think about what I'm saying. I only feel that her whole mothering steps on my nerves. I don't want to be mean. I only want to get some peace. I hate it, if people … just exaggerate with taking care of me.
"That's right. You're not." She says and then leaves. When the door is shut, I realize that what I've said hadn't been the nicest way to say: get off my back. I'm a total idiot. That's how I always notice that I'm not from here. Fuck. I'm really a screwed up now. I go down stairs. I hate myself for the pain I cause among those who only want to help me. I'm such a pain in their asses and I can't imagine only one reason why they still haven't kicked me out yet. I've performed enough mistakes. They easily could get rid of me and no one would blame them. Not even I would do so. Yes, I feel very bad and I want to bury myself somewhere where nobody ever will find me again. Why do I always do that? Why am I such a punk lately? I slowly make my way downstairs and into the kitchen. Kirsten is sitting at the kitchen table, working.
"This is not your bed." She says, without looking up from the plans. Okay, precise instruction. I'd better piss off.
"I didn't say leave." She now looks at me and I feel … embarrassed can't even describe the discomfort arising in me.
"Sit down." She points at the chair across from her. I obey. There's already a mug of steaming coffee placed.
"Okay Ryan, I know you didn't mean to. Nevertheless your behaviour starts to hurt us. We try everything to help you, but you're rejecting us. When you started to attend at Harbor you were such a quiet and relaxed boy. But since Sandy took you out of the foster home and brought you here, you're explosive. It only takes a little for you to fly into rage or you just pretend to be indifferent. This is exactly the rude boy my son then had made friends with. What brings me to the conclusion that you're completely stressed out and don't tell me you're fine." Someone is reading me and no, I don't like it.
"Ryan you need to admit to yourself that you're far from fine. You need help, in somehow or do you have a plan how to get through this?" She looks at me and I know she wants an answer.
"Just…wait…and not think about it?" She's intimidating me, when she looks at me like that.
"Oh no. That's not dealing with it, that's called bottling up. And this is exactly what I witness. Dealing means mourn. But you didn't mourn you mother's death, or your brother's and I doubt you mourn your father's death. Do you actually know what mourn means? This means crying and I haven't seen a single tear on your face." I hate if people say things like that straight into my face. They make me feel very uncomfortable. And why? Because they're right with those things.
"And for the sake of completeness. Do you really think anyone believes you when you pretend to handle your past as if nothing had happened? Do you really think anyone believes you that you can handle years of abuse – even sexual abuse? Oh no, when you think that, you're so wrong." Why is she throwing all these things at me? I don't want to listen to it anymore. I can't. She's so close to throw me of the loop and I can't allow her that. Nobody ever had managed to and she won't either.
"Ryan, you're not leaving this house. I don't want to have to pick you up twice a day from the ER."
"You can't lock me up." Now I'll show her how stubborn I can be. I'm not letting her folding me flat and then treating me like a delinquent…shit I am a…just leave it with that.
"Oh yes, you're grounded. Meaning, you're not going anywhere." Hu? What have I done wrong to deserve this?
"You can't do this without reason."
"Oh yes I can. Despite I have enough reason for that. You're dishonest to us and yourself and you're not listening to what I say." Dishonest? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
"Dishonest? You're kidding." I have the feeling as if everybody only is determined to…antagonise me to the edge.
"No, I'm not. Besides I have told you to go to bed and you're not listening. So, if you want to keep your punishment as low as possible, you do what I say and get your ass to bed. Otherwise there also will be no videogames, no TV and no Computer. Got it?" Did I mention that she is a bitch?
"And all the shit only because I…had a little break down at school? That's not fair. It wasn't my fault that Bork didn't let me leave the room." Oh yes, I start to behave like a brand-new teenager who just hits puberty.
"You wouldn't have needed to leave the room, if you had admitted that your father's death had hit you…hard." If she mentions this only one more time, I swear I…
"What are you still doing here? Shoo, bed NOW!" I turn around and obey. I don't want to mess this up. Ah, I forgot. I already messed it up. Shit I really screwed up this time. Hell, how am I supposed to survive the fiend Kirsten? I won't. I don't want to spend the rest of the day in bed. I don't like to lie around like a potato and do nothing. I have to get used to it.
"Hey dude, how are you?" Seth enters the room.
"Fine." I growl.
"Uh…it's grumpy again. So you don't enjoy some spoil-Ryan-time?" The…what the fuck?
"What are you talking about?"
"Lying in bed the whole day, not being allowed to do homework, even eating in bed. Hell you have a life." And for this I would like to slap his face.
"Seth! This is not funny. Your Mum turned into some crazy witch and I'm afraid I wake up as frog the next morning."
"Well, then you should be glad that we don't live in France. You know they love eating frogs."
"Seth! That's. Not. Funny."
"Have you seen your face? If you do so, you'll see it is." Seth only answers and I see now other way anymore. I grab my pillow and I'm glad that Seth is not a too athletic person.