You're Not Worthless

by Kayaleah Bradley

  “Just because you have scars, that doesn’t make you a freak. Your scars don’t define who you are. Only you can do that.”

  For a moment I can’t speak, can’t even think. I’m baffled by what he said.

  “Thank you, Jason,” Evelyn says. “Would you like to share?” Jason sits up further in his seat, and clears his throat.

  “My name is Jason,” he begins. “I’m eighteen years old, and I’m here because I have depression. My brother committed suicide when I was sixteen years old,” Jason says. I can’t help but gasp, though I’m not sure why. I mean, I tried the same thing, so why does it sound so surprising to me?

  “He left a note on my bed, the day that he did it. It said that I was the only one who cared, and that he was sorry for leaving me, and that he loved me. I still wonder, if he loved me so much, then why did ​​he leave me?” He asks.

  “I still wonder why he couldn’t see that his life was worth it, the way I did. Ever since he died, it’s like I’m a completely different person. It’s like I don’t know how to live without him...”

  “I know it’s hard, Jason,” Evelyn says. “Would anyone like to say anything else?” She asks.

  “Maybe he was scared,” I blurt out. Everyone turns their attention to me.

  “Maybe he was scared, because I know I was. I was terrified of living any longer, and I wanted to be done.”

  “But if he had just opened up and told me about what he was feeling, I would’ve listened,” Jason says. “I would’ve helped him. And then he wouldn’t have had to be scared anymore. You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he says.

  “There are so many people that love you and care about you. If they want to be there for you, you should let them. They’ll help you, and then you won’t have anything to be afraid of.”

  Everybody is nodding again, and I find that I’m nodding too.

  “You’re wrong about one thing,” I say, and everybody turns their attention back to me.

  “You blame yourself,” I say. Jason’s face changes, as if he knows that I’m right.

  “You shouldn’t blame yourself. You think that if you were to ask him if he was okay, or if you were to tell somebody that something was wrong, then maybe he’d still be here. But it was out of your control,” I say. “And it wasn’t your fault.” Another silence falls over the group.

  “I think you’re right,” Jason says, so quietly, that it’s barely a whisper.

  * * *

  Once the session is over, everybody stands from the place they were sitting. Some people leave immediately, but a few people linger to talk to one another. Jason whips around and heads straight for the door. I chase after him, because I need to talk to him.

  “Jason!” I shout. He stops just before the door, and turns to face me.

  “I’m Kalani,” I say, extending my hand. Jason shakes my hand twice, then releases it.

  “I’m sorry about your brother,” I say.

  “You know,” Jason begins. “I keep thinking about the last time I saw him alive... And I can’t remember what I said to him.” He looks away, and stares somewhere to the left of me.

  “So, do you?” I ask. “Blame yourself?”

  Jason shrugs. “I don’t feel like I caused his death,” he says. “But I feel like I didn’t do anything to stop it... That’s the thing about suicide, it didn’t take away his pain... It just passed it onto me.”

  I never realized how true that quote was until right now. I can see it in his eyes; he’s in so much pain.

  “You’re very lucky to be alive, Kalani,” Jason says. “You’ve been given a second chance to make things right. So please, don’t give up. You have no idea how much it would kill​ your family, if you died. If you die, there’s no coming back. There’s nothing good about that decision. You’ll never get to live your life again. You’ll never get to talk to the people you love, again. It’ll all be over.”

  Jason turns to leave, but I grab his arm to stop him.

  “You said that your brother wrote you a note,” I say. “If it’s not too much to ask, can I read it?”

  Jason pulls a small piece of paper out of his left jean pocket-It’s folded over multiple times.

  “I keep it with me,” he says. “Always.”

  He places the piece of paper in my hands, then leaves.

  I never realized how much one decision could affect the people you love. He’s kept this letter with him for two years-the last letter his brother ever wrote. I can’t help but wonder what could’ve happened to my family if I did die. What would’ve happened to Lucas?... ...What would’ve happened to Caden?

  Twenty

  “So,” my mom begins. She’s sitting across from me at the dining room table. On my left is Mia, and on my right is Caden. On either side of my mom is Amelia and Skylar. My Dad is sitting at the head of the table.

  “How was group therapy today?” She asks. She digs her fork into a pile of mashed potatoes.

  “It was... Not as bad as I thought it was going to be,” I admit. I begin to cut off a piece of chicken from the thigh I was given.

  “That’s good,” my mom says. “Mia told me that you spoke.”

  “I did,” I nod. “I wasn’t planning on speaking, but Evelyn made me feel safe.” I’m finally able to slice through the chicken, so I lift it to my mouth.

  “Well, I’m very proud of your progress,” my mom says. She’s been working on her pile of mashed potatoes, but she finally moves onto the green beans that have been sitting on her plate.

  “Opening up to people wasn’t something you could do a couple of weeks ago,” my mom continues. “But now, you’re getting better at it. As a reward, for at least trying​ to get better, I’m going to give you back some of my trust.”

  I move on from my chicken, and turn my attention to my mashed potatoes. I grab the bowl of gravy and practically dump it all over the pile on my plate.

  “Tonight, I’ll give you back your straightener,” my mom says, finally.

  For a moment, everybody stops eating.

  “Wait, really?” I say, not even being able to hide my shock. “What about my mascara?”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” my mom says. Everyone finally goes back to working on

  their plate.

  “Your antidepressants and anxiety medication have finally come in through the mail,” She continues. “You have to take one of each, twice a day. Once you can prove that you’ve been taking your medications, I’ll give you back your mascara.”

  “Why do I have to take that stuff?” I ask. “And why do I have to take it to get my mascara back?”

  “These medications will help you feel better, Kalani,” my dad says. “If you can prove that you’ve been taking them, it shows your mom and I that you want​ to get better.”

  My mom chimes in, “And if we see that you’re trying, -then you can start to earn our trust back; little by little.”

  I don’t respond to that. Stupid consequences.

  * * *

  “Are you ready?” Amelia asks. We’re sitting in the parking lot in front of the counseling

  center.

  It’s gloomy today. Clouds dominate the sky, and the sun is hidden. It’s supposed to rain today.

  “Yeah,” I say. I’m not sure if I’m ready. Just because I spoke yesterday, doesn’t mean that I’m ready for a one-on-one session.

  “I’ll be waiting right here,” Amelia says. “But take your time. There’s no rush.”

  I look over at her. Her hair is longer than anybody else’s hair in our family, with various shades and streaks of blond. And her eyes are more hazel than mine-with gold flecks right around the pupil. Amelia’s eyes have always been able to take me somewhere where I can’t possibly be scared-somewhere where I know that I’m safe.

  “Okay,” I nod. I push my door open, but pause before getting out.

  “Thank you,” I say. “For being here for me.”

  “Of course,” Amelia says, and for a moment, sh
e seems surprised.

  I stare at her for a moment, smiling, before finally pushing myself up out of my seat. I close my door shut and make my way across the parking lot.

  A chill runs up and down my spine; winter isn’t completely over yet, so the air is chilly today. I pull my sleeves over my hands as I pull the glass door to the counseling center open.

  “Kalani!” Evelyn shouts. I’m not sure how long she’s been standing in front of the main entrance just to greet me.

  “You’re right on time,” she says. “Are you ready?” “Yes,” I choke out.

  Without another word, Evelyn turns on her heel and begins walking. I assume I’m supposed to be following her, so I quickly try to catch up.

  “We’re not sitting out here?” I ask, as we pass the set of couches next to the window.

  “We only sit out here for group therapy,” Evelyn says. “One-on-one sessions take place in one of these rooms.” She gestures to all of the doors.

  Evelyn continues across the room and down a hallway, until she reaches the last door at the end of the hallway.

  “How many people work here?” I ask, as Evelyn turns the knob to the door. “Why do you have so many rooms?”

  “The Counseling Center has 55 counselors,” Evelyn says, pushing open the door.

  “I manage the center, as well as counseling.”

  Evelyn steps into the room. This room is just as bright as the main room outside. The entire back wall is made of glass, creating one giant window. Next to the window, is a couch similar to the couch in the main room, and next to the couch is a small black stand; a lamp sits on top of it which casts a glow throughout the room.

  Across from the couch is a white chair, which is the same material as the couch. The floors are brown hardwood.

  “Please, take a seat,” Evelyn says. She makes her way over to the chair, so I find my place on the couch, next to the window.

  “How are you feeling today, Kalani?” Evelyn asks. Her hair falls in loose curls today.

  Beautiful.

  “I’m okay,” I say.

  “Have you been taking your medications?” Evelyn asks.

  “I just started taking them this morning,” I respond. I look to my left, outside the window. A single raindrop smacks against the glass.

  “Are you still having suicidal thoughts?”

  I look over at her, startled. I didn’t realize she would be so straight forward.

  “Look,” Evelyn says, sitting forward. “You came here for a reason, Kalani: to get

  better.”

  I look back out the window. The raindrop from earlier begins to roll down the window.

  “So,” Evelyn begins again. “To make progress, I’m going to be brutally honest.

  And so are you.”

  Another raindrop falls onto the glass. Then another, and another. They begin to slide down the glass, and suddenly the raindrops are racing to the bottom.

  “So, I’ll ask again,” Evelyn says. “Have you had any more suicidal thoughts since your suicide attempt?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I haven’t.”

  “That’s good,” Evelyn says. “Why do you think that is?” “Because I haven’t been back to school yet,” I blurt out.

  I look back out the window. The raindrops begin to drop faster, creating a trickling sound against the building.

  “Are you afraid to go back to school?” Evelyn asks me.

  “Yeah,” I say, still staring out the window. I’m not sure what it is, but something about rain always seems to calm me.

  “Why are you scared to go back?”

  “Because the people at my school are mean to me,” I say.

  “What do you mean they’re mean to you?”

  “They call me names,” I say. “They call me a bitch. Attention seeker. Some of them said they wished that I would just die.”

  “Have you told anyone about the other kids?” Evelyn asks.

  “No,” I say. “I guess I should have.”

  “Do you think that if you had told someone, they would have been able to help you?” “I don’t know,” I say.

  “Why don’t you know?” Evelyn asks.

  “Because I didn’t ask... For help,” I say.

  “Exactly,” Evelyn says. “The thing is, you never know if someone is going to be able to

  help, until you ask ​​for help.”

  I stare at her for a moment. I guess it makes sense. I didn’t receive help because I didn’t give anyone a chance to do so-not even Lucas, despite how many times he wanted to.

  “I’m going to give you a homework assignment, Kalani,” Evelyn says. “I need you to talk to people about what you went through-and not just me. Talk to your family.”

  Evelyn continues, “Tell a friend what was going on, or someone you feel comfortable with. And then, I want you to go back to school.”

  My entire body lurches forward from where I was leaning back so comfortably.

  “I can’t” I say, my voice squeaking. “Please don’t make me go back there.”

  “How many days of school have you missed?” Evelyn asks. “Thirty? Forty? Are you failing any classes yet? Kalani, pretty soon, the consequences of what you did will begin to settle in. And they won’t come one at a time, they’ll hit you all at once,” she continues. “Your parents won’t trust you anymore and everybody will be afraid to even walk near you because they’re scared of what you did.” Evelyn pauses for a moment.

  “You’ll go back to school to find that you have more make-up work than you can handle, and soon it will start to bury you; you’ll start failing your classes because it’s just too much, and then? Who knows if you’ll graduate in a few months?”

  I don’t say anything for a while. The truth is I can’t say anything at all because I know that she’s right. It’s funny. Most people would tell me that life was only going to get better from here, and soon I’ll look back on this and realize how strong I was. But not Evelyn. Evelyn has been brutally honest since the beginning. She knows that the next few months-or even years-are going to be harder than I realized.

  I’m going to have to rebuild the life that I had-or make a new one. She knows that life isn’t going to get better from here-not for a while. That’s going to take time. She’s telling me that if I don’t start the healing process now, these scars will bury me.

  I have to fix this.

  “Okay,” I say. Evelyn looks at me like I have two heads. “I’ll go back.”

  “Good,” Evelyn says. “Don’t be afraid to talk to people, Kalani. You’re not as alone as you feel.”

  When the session ends, I repeat what Evelyn told me on my way back to the car.

  You’re not as alone as you feel.

  You’re not as alone as you feel.

  You’re not as alone as you feel.

  I ​​hope that’s true; I want it to be true.

  I do.

  Twenty-One

  The first thing I do this morning is grab the yellow prescription bottle that’s sitting on the table. I open it and shake it until a single white pill falls into the palm of my hand. Then I grab the other yellow prescription bottle that was sitting right next to the first bottle. Again, I open it and shake. Another white pill falls into my hand. This one is slightly bigger than the first one. I’ve been taking my medications for three days now, and the truth is my anxiety is starting to go away-but not completely.

  It’s still there, just not as big. My depression is another story. I haven’t felt depressed since I left the hospital, but I also haven’t gone back to school yet. What I’m most afraid of is that my depression will come back as soon as I go back to school.

  If the medications won’t work, what will?

  “Kalani?” I hear. I quickly bring my hand to my mouth and throw the pills inside. I swallow them with the help of the water that was sitting on the counter, and turn around.

  My mom is standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

  “Yeah?” I ask
.

  My mom doesn’t say anything. She simply brings her hand from behind her back and holds a silver object in the shape of a thin rectangle, out in front of her. My phone. I haven’t seen it since before I ended up in the hospital. If I’m being honest, I kind of forgot that I even had a phone. It hasn’t crossed my mind.

  “You’re giving me my phone back?” I ask, shocked.

  “Don’t think I haven’t been watching you, Kalani,” my mom says. “I’ve watched you take your medication every morning and every night since you got it. And Amelia and Mia told me that you’ve been working on your make-up work all day, every day. They told me you’re almost done with it.”

  I grab the phone from my mom’s hand, and her arm falls back to her side.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  She turns to walk away, but stops at the end of the hallway.

  “Kalani,” my mom says, turning over her shoulder. “I saw the posts on the school chat room. And I think you should delete your account, to avoid any further drama. But that’s entirely up to you,” she continues. “I trust that you’ll make the right decision.”

  My mom turns around the corner and disappears. I make my way back up to my room, where Mia is waiting for me to come back.

  “Did you take your medications?” Mia asks, as I make my way across the room.

  “I did,” I say. “Mom gave me this,” I say, holding up my phone.

  “Big step,” Mia says. “Are you gonna delete your account?”

  “Not yet,” I say. “I will eventually, but not today. I think I just need closure first.”

  I sit on my bed and unlock my phone. The school chat room is already open on my phone. When I click on my profile, it’s buried in posts from the past four weeks. I scroll down the page and begin reading.

  Kalani, I’m so sorry! I never meant for it to come to this!

  I wish I had been nicer to you... You didn’t deserve this.

  I can’t believe this happened... What has this world come to?

  Kalani, I want to apologize for everything that’s happened. I should’ve gotten you the help that you needed. I didn’t cause this, but I didn’t do anything to stop it. I’m so sorry.