The Suicide Project (Rebirth Book 1) (8 page)

“Brandon jumped me one afternoon as I was walking home from school. I lived near a park and that’s where it happened. He pulled me off the street and into the park so that cars driving by wouldn’t be able to see what was going on. He had three of his friends with him but they just stood there and watched as Brandon kicked and punched me. I was lying on the ground in the fetal position trying to protect myself as best as I could, but Brandon was just too strong. I remember being in a lot of pain. I don’t know how much time went by, but I must have passed out. The next thing I remembered was waking up in the hospital.”

Seeing the misery in Sam’s eyes was just pissing me off even more. If only I could have five minutes alone in a room with this Brandon jackass, I’d love to give him a taste of his own medicine. Don’t get the wrong idea…I don’t consider myself a bloodthirsty chick by any means, but when it comes to the people that I care about, I am definitely not one to be messed with. Patting the empty spot next to me, I practically begged, “Sam, please come sit next to me again. Please?” I wished that I could take away his pain because it was obvious to us all that it was emotionally taxing for him, having to delve into his past like this. Meekly, Sam sank back into the cushions next to me. He allowed me to grasp his hand again, so I gently rubbed my thumb over the back of it in a soothing circular motion. A few tears escaped and started to flow down his cheeks as he picked up where he left off.

“In the hospital, I remember opening my eyes and seeing my whole family there standing next to the doctor. Simon looked upset and I could tell that he had been crying. When I looked at my parents they just looked cold and detached as usual. The doctor told me that I had a broken nose, a fractured jaw, a cracked rib, a split lip, and a black eye, along with a countless number of bruises.” I was horrified at the number of injuries Sam suffered and I couldn’t help it when my eyes started getting watery again. Making eye contact with Jamie, I saw that she had been silently crying. Her face was shiny with her tears, and even though she clutched a Kleenex in one fist, she didn’t use it to wipe her face. I think she forgot she was fisting it.

Sam’s voice cracked as he exhaled a shaky breath and added, “My doctor said I had been in the hospital for two days already. Given enough time he said he expected me to make a full recovery from all of my injuries. When he was done discussing my long road to recovery, he walked out of the room leaving me alone with my family. He was the only one who showed me kindness that day. Instead of offering sympathy, my parents yelled at me and told me it was what I deserved for flaunting my homosexuality around town. My mom said that if I’d only agreed to talk to the pastor of our church and attend Bible Camp, “the problem” would be solved and I probably wouldn’t get beaten up again. Simon practically begged me to go. He said that if I went, then maybe we could go back to being a “normal” happy family again.”

Sergeant Ramsey extended the box of Kleenex to Sam who grabbed a few and took a moment to blow his nose. “What hurt the most was when Simon said that it was emotionally exhausting for him to live in the house when the tension was so thick between me and my parents. He said his grades were starting to drop from having to live in a dysfunctional household. He threatened to move out of the house if my parents and I didn’t bury the hatchet and make peace with each other. His plan was to move in with my aunt and uncle who lived in the next town over, but that meant he’d have to transfer to a different school and leave all his friends behind.” Sam dabbed at his eyes as he quietly sobbed. I rubbed his back as I silently cursed his family to the lowest pits of Hell and beyond. My heart was breaking for poor, sweet Sam.

A disgusted snort from my right caused my attention to fly to Gideon, and I saw the stony expression on his face as he bit out, “Teagan’s right Sam. I’m sorry but your family is full of assholes!” Gideon’s jaw was clenched so tightly, I started to worry that he might accidently crack a tooth, or at the very least cause himself a migraine.

Sniffling, Sam choked out, “I know. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized that my family was like a bunch of strangers to me. I questioned to myself whether or not any of them really loved me or cared about me at all. I never had any problems with Simon before, but at that moment in time I can honestly say that I did hate him. I couldn’t believe how selfish he was being. He turned the situation around and made it sound like
he
was the injured party. I was laying there on the hospital bed, wounded and in pain listening as my brother and my parents started arguing about what needed to change.
I
was the victim and yet I was the one being blamed for everything. I felt cold and dead inside…like nobody loved me or understood me. I hated my life, and I hated myself.”

Sam’s voice sounded small and broken, and I had to wipe away another tear that snuck down my cheek. God, I was so tired of crying. I don’t even think I cried this much the night I caught Kyle and Eva in bed together. Honestly, I was on the verge of begging Sergeant Ramsey to let Sam stop talking about his story if he didn’t want to continue. I truthfully didn’t know if any of us could handle hearing any more of his story. It just kept getting worse and worse. Looking around the circle, I concluded that everyone who was presently in the Common Room was an emotional wreck. I sincerely regretted thrusting Sam in the spotlight when it was obvious his pain was still too fresh. I could only hope that his story was finally drawing to a close.

“I remember what happened now.” His gaze went around the room as he steadily looked each one of us in the eye. “Forcing me to talk about my family has brought back my memory of my last day and what I did to myself. I remember that later on in the week I was finally released from the hospital. The day after my release, I was lying in bed in my room and noticed how quiet it was in the house. I realized that everyone was out, so I snuck downstairs to the kitchen to grab a knife. The trip downstairs was very slow-going because it hurt to move, and it hurt to breathe. I was sweaty and feeling nauseous from the pain by the time I finally made it inside the kitchen. Even though I was hurting, I was still careful to choose the brand new knife that my mom had recently bought. I made my way back upstairs and locked myself in the bathroom. I remember sitting in the bathtub in my pajamas as I slit my wrists. I was in so much pain from my other injuries that I hardly felt the slice of the knife. I don’t remember anything else after that.” Shrugging his shoulders at us, he ended, “That’s it. That’s the end of Samuel.”

There was a moment of silence as each of us reflected on Sam’s story. Even though horrible things had happened to him, I sincerely hoped that he felt better talking about his past. Everyone needed closure. Catching his eye, I announced, “Good riddance to your family and your past life! That chapter of your life is over now and a new one is about to begin. There’s no doubt that you’ve hit rock bottom, but I hope you can take comfort in knowing that from here on out things can only improve and get better for you.” I had a habit of being sickeningly optimistic at times, but I rarely said things that I didn’t mean, and I could feel in the very depths of my heart that Sam, Gideon, and I were all in a much better place now. I turned my head and chuckled ruefully as Jamie and Dr. Duffy both simultaneously blew their noses. By this time, I knew that we were all feeling utterly and emotionally drained.

Sergeant Ramsey reached over and gently rubbed one of Sam’s knees as he unexpectedly offered, “I can help fill in the rest of the blanks from here if ya’d like to know what happened after that.” He quirked an eyebrow at Sam, and Sam hesitantly nodded his head, giving his permission for Sergeant Ramsey to continue. Curious, Gideon and I leaned in and gave the sergeant our undivided attention.

“Your brother came home from soccer practice and wanted to take a shower as soon as he got home. You two share a bathroom, so after he knocked and knocked and didn’t get a response from you after nearly five minutes he started to get worried. He threatened to break down the door but was unable to do so. Instead, he picked the lock. Simon actually suffered a slight fracture to his left arm in his effort to break down the door. He found you in the tub unconscious, sitting in a shallow puddle of your own blood. He frantically called 911 and rode with you in the ambulance as you were sped back to the same hospital that you were just discharged from. You were attended by the same doctor who had previously treated you. It was at that point that your doctor called our office and the rest is pretty much history. He did not want you returned to the same hostile living environment you had tried to escape from. We felt that bringing you here was the best plan of action for you. Even though you had lost a
lot
of blood, between his medical team and ours we were able to recover you.”

Sergeant Ramsey was so matter of fact about all the details, but I sensed it was because he was trying to be helpful in any way he could. It seemed like he took pride in being able to impart information that only
he
had first-hand knowledge of. Judging from the expression on Sam’s face, he did seem to appreciate hearing about the aftermath of his ordeal.

“Your family held a funeral for you and the majority of your school attended, as well as practically everyone from your church. Apparently, the minister of your church does
not
share quite the same religious beliefs to the extent that your parents do and was very verbal on your behalf about the way you were unfairly treated by your family and your fellow classmates. He stated that he felt partly to blame for your death for not addressing the topic of homosexuality in his sermon during church the week before. He was planning on addressing the issue for church the following week, but it was already too late. During your eulogy, your minister ended by saying something along the lines of, “Love thy neighbors no matter how different they may be, for God loves
all
his children. Celebrate your differences and learn to love one another, for God makes no mistakes.” There wasn’t a single dry eye amongst the crowd at your funeral because everyone had been properly chastised, especially your parents. Everybody felt guilty that they might have inadvertently played a part in your death because they were too close-minded to accept you the way you were. The majority of the shame rested on the shoulders of your parents. They seemed to really regret the way they had treated you during the last year of your life.”

I looked at Sergeant Ramsey in surprise and was just about to ask him how he could possibly know such intimate details, but once again he anticipated my question and held up a hand in my direction. I swear, the guy was like a freakin’ mind-reader!

“I attend the funerals of
all
of my potential soldiers in case you were wondering.”

I felt my mouth drop open in surprise. I glanced at Sam and noticed the same expression on his face. “Hang on a minute… if you go to all of our funerals, wouldn’t you already hear the gist of what happened to us, and what potentially may have led to our suicides?”

“Sometimes, but not all the time. In some cases, we do have to dig a little deeper to uncover information that we feel may be pertinent in helping you guys with your healing process. This was the case with Sam. The events leading up to his death were especially traumatic, and we worried about his mental and emotional state after recovery.”

Turning all of his focus on Sam again, the Sergeant continued, “I don’t know if you remember but your two best friends visited you in the hospital shortly after you were beaten up. Apparently you confided in them, so they were able to learn the identity of who put you in the hospital in the first place. They really cared about you a lot so they both went to the school guidance counselor, seeking advice for how to handle the situation because they wanted retribution on your behalf. The guidance counselor felt it was a situation that was out of her league, so she accompanied your friends to the school principal for guidance who then suggested seeking assistance from the police if they felt that you were wanting to press charges. All of this happened in the time span of a week, at the end of which you had already taken matters into your own hands. Your friends did the best they could to help, but it was already too late. They were devastated when they learned you committed suicide.

After your funeral, the local police finally stepped in and took action at your friends’ insistence. The last I checked, Brandon had been charged with criminal harassment and assault and battery and was in the custody of the juvenile correctional facility. His three friends that were present the day he beat you up, testified that Brandon was solely responsible for all the physical harm you suffered. He faces two years of probation and over 100+ hours of community service. He’s practically been disowned by his family, his friends won’t acknowledge their past association with him, and he was dumped by his girlfriend. Your story and the topic of “Bullying” was written in your local paper. I’m sure your friends felt that justice was finally served, and in a way I’d have to agree with them since Brandon is paying for his crimes. Your local community was intent on making an example out of him.”

Exhaling on a satisfied sigh, I announced, “Good! I’m glad that piece of shit got caught! What comes around goes around! I hope the rat bastard rots in Hell!”

Sergeant Ramsey actually cringed as he looked straight at me and said, “Darlin’, every time you open your mouth and utter a cuss word, a little cherub falls out of Heaven from the shock of hearing such filthy words comin’ out of such a pretty mouth.” There was a brief pause before everyone burst out laughing.

I pointed my finger at him and crowed, “That’s a load of crap old man! How the hell do you come up with all of that hooey?”

He just shook his head and sighed before solemnly replying, “It’s true. And for every cherub that dies, there will be one less cherub available to deliver chocolate, comic books, and zit cream to the good little boys and girls in the barracks.” Sudden silence reigned while I let that information sink in. My mouth fell open a little as I regarded the sergeant with surprise.
Damn! The Sergeant thinks to control my swearing by withholding chocolate!
The others laughed with amusement as they took note of my expression. “You play dirty sergeant.”