Edge of Darkness Box Set

by Margaret McHeyzer

  “Stop, please. I don’t want to talk to you about this. First, it’s not the time or place, and second, I know how the dynamics of a relationship works. And don’t worry, I’m stubborn. No one’s going to force me to do anything I don’t want to do.”

  Except Azael. He manages to get me to do so many things by promising the world and never delivering.

  “Phew.” Dad stands and makes his way over to the table, picking up his coffee and taking a sip. “I must say, I was worried when I came in.” Opening the brown paper bag, he takes out a muffin and breaks it into two. He holds a piece out to me, offering it.

  “Nah, I’m not hungry.” I turn over in the bed, and close my eyes.

  “Don’t go to sleep. Matthew told me the doctor is on her way.”

  “Okay.” I stay awake, because I need to be able talk to the doctor without losing my control and telling her about Azael.

  Although I’m concerned about the doctor, my attention is mostly focused on Tobias. He talks like he’s been part of something so immense he’s needed to talk to a psychologist. I know now he’s not a cutter. He told me and I honestly believe him.

  But what else could be so bad to force him to see someone about it?

  I’m forced to suspend my ruminations on Tobias when a small, dark-haired woman comes into the room. She’s wearing a long lab coat and carrying a binder. She smiles and walks to the bed.

  “Hello, Ivy. I’m Doctor Estrada. How are you doing today?” As she walks toward the bed, she’s looking at the contents of the binder. She glances up and switches her gaze to Dad. “Mr. Jones, would you mind leaving Ivy and I alone for a few minutes?” She’s still smiling, but Dad’s face is wearing a frown of anger.

  “I want to hear about my daughter’s condition, Dr. Estrada,” Dad stands and folds his arms on his chest.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Jones, but according to our records, your daughter is eighteen, and according to state law, she’s in charge. I have some rather delicate things to discuss with her, and she may not want you present for the conversation.”

  “Ivy?” Dad looks to me. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “Please, Dad. Just for a little while.” His face doesn’t hide his hurt. He picks up his coffee and silently leaves the room.

  When he’s gone, the doctor sits in the chair next to the bed. “I’m the doctor who treated you when you came into the emergency room last night. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  I look at her, unsure of what to say. I can’t tell her how my demon made me do it; they’d lock me in the psych ward and pump me full of drugs.

  “Look, Ivy,” she says gently after several moments of silence. “I examined you thoroughly last night. I know you’ve been cutting yourself for a long time now.”

  A stifled sob escapes my throat. I don’t know how to feel about that part of my secret being exposed. Tobias guessing is one thing, but Dr. Estrada has seen the scars. She knows. I have no hope of denying it to her.

  “No one else knows?” she asks.

  “No,” I whisper.

  “I’ve seen your scars, Ivy. I saw how careful you’ve been in the past. What was different about last night?” Dr. Estrada’s voice is gentle, soft. She’s looking at me, not taking notes. I don’t see any signs of judgement in her face.

  “I…” Where to start? How much to tell? I feel lost. “You’re not going to tell my father about this, are you?”

  “No, Ivy. Our discussion is confidential.”

  “I started when I was thirteen. It was a way of coping with stress. I always felt so peaceful afterwards.” I take a deep breath and continue. “After what happened yesterday at school—you know about that, don’t you?”

  “Yes. We all know about that. I understand you tried to resuscitate your teacher. If there was any hope of her holding on, what you did would have been responsible for that. As it was, the damage was too extensive. There wasn’t anything you could have done to save her.”

  “It wasn’t just that. It was Tyler, too… I’ve known him since grade school. I wasn’t close to him, but still, I saw him kill himself. He spoke to me, just before he did it. He looked me in the eyes and said Mrs. Richards deserved to die. He knew he’d killed her. And Mrs. Richards… I saw her die. I literally saw her life leave her body. The whole thing was so shocking, so confusing… I just couldn’t cope with it.”

  “So you intended to end your life?”

  “I don’t know… everything was so strange. Maybe.”

  “Ivy, is there more to this than you’re telling me?”

  “No,” I say quickly. “Nothing.”

  Dr. Estrada is quiet for a few moments, just looking at me. Then she speaks, her voice warm and soft. “That’s a lot for anyone to handle. I can understand that. But the way you chose to deal with it was dangerous. You scared everyone who knows you. And the fact you’re talking to me the way you are, I don’t believe you really meant to end your life.” She stands and takes my hand. “Unfortunately, because you attempted suicide, the law is involved. You will need to stay here for seventy-two hours, what’s called a psychiatric hold. We have to bring in mental health professionals to evaluate your mental state and determine if you’re still a danger to yourself.

  “Try not to think of it as a type of jail. Instead, talk to our psychiatrists and see if they can help you understand what happened and your reaction to it. Use the time to get your equilibrium back. I’ll explain to your father about the psychiatric hold, but I won’t share your cutting or our discussion with him.”

  I nod, not looking at her. What can I do now? I’m going to be forced to speak to shrinks, whether I want to or not. Will they be able to see my demon? Will Dr. Estrada really keep my secrets from Dad?

  I realize I can’t answer these questions, and I have no choice in any of this. “Thank you.”

  She leaves me alone, and Azael pops into my mind. You can’t tell them, Ivy. It’s our secret. No one else can know. For once, Azael and I have the same goal.

  Chapter 17

  After doing my time in the hospital, I’ve been home for three days. I haven’t been back to school. I’m not ready to be reminded of what happened. Jared’s on his way over, and for some reason my heart is beating like crazy. Talking to the “mental health professionals” didn’t help with anything. They asked generic questions, and had the gall to ask, in veiled ways, whether Dad abused me. That made me angry, and I told them so. They asked about my dreams, about my memories of my mother, all sorts of things. They listened to me describe what happened when Tyler attacked Mrs. Richards, but didn’t offer anything to help me make sense of it. In short, it was three wasted days, and made me surer than ever that I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone else in the mental health field.

  Tobias hasn’t come back to see me, and the text messages between us are strained at best.

  Sitting in the family room, I flick the television off, completely disinterested in anything. I just want to see Jared, and know how he’s doing.

  He sounded terrible when I called him yesterday. His voice was flat and emotionless. I know Jared so well, and I know things aren’t right with him.

  The bandages are still on, but the wounds are healing. Dr. Estrada came in and talked to me several times. I was surprised, because I assumed that once she called in the mental health calvary, she was done with me. She asked me how it was going with the shrinks, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was a complete waste of time. I lied to her, and said that it was helping a bit. She believed me. She also gave me a number of a psychologist who deals with survivors of trauma, someone I could contact after I left the hospital. “If not for you, do it for your dad. He’s worried about you,” she said as she was leaving the room.

  I took the number and shoved it in my pocket. I didn’t throw it out when I got home, either. Instead, I put in the top drawer of my dresser. One day, I might call it. But I’m fine for now, and don’t need it.

  The number is etched into my mind, as are
the words the doctor spoke about Dad. Dad lost Mom when I was young, and I don’t want to cause him worry.

  There’s a blank space in my mind. A huge part of it is like white noise and static. Nothing happening. But another part is filled with wonder and confusion. There’s also a gaping hole in my heart too. Something inside me isn’t right. It could be the mind-numbing void in my heart or the persistent hissing inside my head that keeps me from thinking clearly.

  A knock on the door drags me out of the fog filling my mind. Dad puts his glass down and walks over to the door.

  “Jared, how are you?” Dad’s voice is heavy.

  “I’ve seen better days, Mr. Jones.” Jared’s tone is laced with a grief so thick, he’s barely recognizable.

  Standing, I head toward the front door. The moment I see Jared, my feet stop walking, and my mouth falls open in shock. “Jared,” I whisper.

  It’s only been days, but he’s changed so much. His hair is unkempt and he has dark circles beneath his eyes. He looks like he’s lost ten pounds from his already lanky frame since I saw him last.

  “Jared.” I launch myself at him, and he catches me in his arms. My arms snake around him as I hug him tightly. “You look like crap,” I whisper as I start to cry.

  “So do you,” he says through his own tears.

  Both of us cry as we hold onto each other. Something passes between us, a private acknowledgement for surviving the tragedy we’ve gone through.

  It takes a long time for us to break apart, and when we do we’re still joined by our hands. His fingers are entwined so tightly around mine, it gives me comfort to know we share this together. “I’m sorry,” I say before we reach the sofa to sit.

  “What are you sorry for?”

  I sit, and Jared sits beside me, our legs are touching. “I should’ve called. We need to stay together.”

  The flatness in his voice carries over to his eyes. He lifts his hand to scratch at the scruff on his chin. “I didn’t know what happened.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “It happened so fast, I wasn’t sure what was happening. All I knew was I wanted to live. I was praying he wouldn’t turn the gun toward me.”

  “I think it’s safe to say everyone was praying for the same thing.”

  “You don’t get it, Ivy. In that moment, I was the most selfish person I’ve ever known. I didn’t care about anyone else, not even Mrs. Richards. Just myself.”

  “That doesn’t make you selfish. That makes you human.”

  “I saw you. I saw what you did. You had no regard for yourself. Instead, you ran straight to Mrs. Richards to help her.”

  I scoff and roll my eyes. “It didn’t work so well, did it?”

  “You ran to her, I didn’t. I hid and I prayed.” Tears well in his redden eyes, and my heart just crumbles for him.

  “We all respond differently in a situation so intense.”

  “But I saw the person I was in those few minutes, and I hate him.” He buries his face in his hands and cries loudly.

  “That’s not fair, Jared. You can’t be so hard on yourself.”

  He lifts his head and wipes the tears away with the hem of his shirt. “Why? I was a coward. I wasn’t a man. I didn’t run toward her, or try to stop Tyler. I shielded myself and prayed I wasn’t going to be killed.” His eyes roam over the bandages on my arms.

  Suddenly, I feel exposed and all my feelings of shame flood back.

  I turn toward him, grabbing both his hands, and encompassing them with mine. “Please, don’t do this to yourself. We all went through something traumatic. Everyone reacts differently, and this isn’t something we will get over quickly. It takes time.”

  His thumb gently strokes over the bandage on my right arm. “It looks like you’re not handling it either.”

  He’s got me. He’s right, but I’ve been drowning for years, and the shooting just added another foot of water over my head. “Are you going to ask me about it?”

  “I don’t have to. I know why you did it. It’s the same reason I keep looking at the bottle of pills I stole from mom’s medicine cabinet.”

  Fear instantly rises inside me. It’s trapped and it wants to come out, but I have to be careful how I react, too. “You have to talk to someone.”

  “I am, and they’re helping me.” Tears well in his eyes, and one escapes, slowly rolling down his face. “He’s also the reason I don’t take the pills. Every morning I wake up ashamed, and feeling so heavy. But when I see him, he puts everything into perspective for me and the heaviness starts to fade. It’s like I have a movie playing in my head.”

  “Me too,” I whisper. “It keeps playing over and over again. The look in Tyler’s eyes, watching Mrs. Richards die.”

  “My movie shows me running away and hiding. I cover my ears, tightly close my eyes and pray.”

  “Our movies are the same, Jared. Yours shows someone who fought for his life, and mine shows someone who couldn’t look away.”

  “I’m not a man.”

  “Of course, you are. You’re only seventeen, how did you expect to react?”

  “With more honor.”

  “Who’s filling your head with all this crap?” I bark at him. “We did what we had to survive. We didn’t use anyone as a human shield, we didn’t pull the damn trigger.”

  “But, I…”

  “No, you shouldn’t. You did what you had to do to protect yourself. Please, stop beating yourself up.” The air is thick between us. I stand, grab onto his hand, and lead him out to the back yard, where we sit in the sun and with the breeze dancing around us. “It’s nice out here,” I say in a gentler tone.

  “It is.” He lowers the sunglasses he had pushed up atop his head. “Tobias isn’t doing too good. He’s been coming around my house or calling me to see if I’ve seen or heard from you. Did you two have a fight?”

  I don’t want to tell him. “It’s complicated,” I say.

  “Yeah, right.” He sounds disappointed with my answer.

  “We had an argument in the hospital, and Dad interrupted us before we could resolve it. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

  “Hmm.” He turns his head, lowers his glasses for a second and looks at my bandages. “I promise you to not take those pills if you promise me not to do that again.” He makes a circular movement with his finger, indicating the bandages.

  I don’t want to promise him something I can’t keep. I know my demon will be back soon, and when he does, I’m not sure I’ll be strong enough to resist him. I know his promises are empty, but the allure of peace is so strong that it will be nearly impossible to resist him. But I have to say something to Jared. Because if I don’t, he might try to take those pills, and he needs to be in the world. “I promise not to cut my wrists again.”

  His lips pull up into a small smile. He believes me, and I won’t ever cut myself on my wrists again. I promise. “Now, what are you going to do about Tobias? You know he’s in love with you?”

  “He told me he loves me.”

  “And what? You think he’s lying?”

  “No, I know he loves me.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug and look at Jared.

  “You don’t love him?”

  Again, I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “Everything seems to be coming at me with the speed of a freight train. I don’t know if I love him, or I’m learning to love him. And with everything that happened at school, I feel like I’m a failure at everything life throws at me.”

  Jared chuckles. “You need to take your own advice. Swallow your pride, Ivy. Work out if you love him, and tell him.”

  “What if I don’t love him, and I just really like him?”

  “Then tell him. Do you think he’ll be disappointed or upset if you don’t love him? No matter what, he needs the truth.”

  “If our roles were reversed, I’d be totally cut and I wouldn’t want to see him again.”

  “Tobias is old enough to d
eal with however you feel. But you know what I think?”

  I take a deep breath and smile. “No, but I think you’re going to tell me.”

  “I think you feel the same way toward him, but after what happened at school, your brain can’t deal with it. You lost your Mom when you were young, and maybe your brain is putting up a barrier because it doesn’t want to lose someone else.”

  “I have Dad.”

  “That’s different, and you know it. Tyler doing what he did, he pushed our version of reality to its brink. Here we are, normal kids going to school, looking forward to finishing and going to college. Then Tyler comes along and kills our teacher right in front of us. That’s fucked with our minds. It skewed what we knew as reality. Now we know disaster can happen to any of us at any time. And that’s scared the shit out of me. So I dare say, it’s affected all of us, regardless if you were in that class or not. But our class, we’ve been hit the hardest. Because we’ll remember everything.”

  “How do we get over something like this?”

  “Like every person in the world gets over hardship. We keep breathing.”

  “I gotta tell you, you sound like you’ve got it together.”

  “Today I sound like I have it together. Tomorrow may be a different story. I’m still only comprehending it. But, my counselor is good. Really good.”

  “When I was at the hospital, the doctor gave me a number for someone too.”

  “When’s your appointment?”

  “I haven’t made one yet.”

  “What? How is your dad not on your case about getting help?”

  “He is, but I’m not ready yet.”

  “Ivy, do yourself a favor and call to make an appointment. Every day is a struggle. Every day I feel guilty because I coward away. Then I feel guilty that I survived. My number one emotion for ninety-five percent of the time I’m awake is guilt.”

  We remain quiet for a few minutes, his words really sinking into my soul. “Do you think I might be feeling guilty because I survived?”

  “I’m feeling it and I ran away. Maybe you’re feeling it too. I do think though, you ought to call the number and make an appointment. What Tyler did didn’t just take one life. He took an entire classroom of lives. We might be living, but I can guarantee we’re all feeling dead inside.”