Chapter 4: Chapter4

#Chapter4

---I felt like my heart was beating for the first time-01

It was almost two in the morning when Jake arrived home. By that time, the drug he took had already taken effect, and the sight that met Matthew was that of Jake high as a kite and completely out of his mind. At some point on the way back the headphones were unplugged from the phone, and the heavy rock music sounded particularly loud in the quietness of the way too early in the morning.

Regardless this, Jake’s sobbing, even though silent, couldn’t be counselled by all this noise. The young man was crying his eyes out, yet no sound came from him. His eyes were unfocused as if he was seeing things that weren’t there, and his trembling hands mercilessly and anxiously scratched the skin of his forearms. The skin there had already turned red and had started bleeding, yet Jake was ignoring this. The morphine he took had made him numb to such pain.

Mathew, who had stayed up all night, sitting in front of the front door, worriedly waiting for his son, was startled. If he wasn’t already sitting, his knees that went weak at such a sight would have failed him and made him fall on the ground while trying not to choke on the tears he was struggling to stop from coming out.

Seeing his own son in such a state… it killed him. He wanted to scold Jake. To yell at him, but Mathew knew he had no right to, for it was his own fault that Jake became like this. If only he didn’t isolate himself from his sons when his wife died… if only he wasn’t that immersed in his grief that he neglected his sons… if only he was there when Jake needed him…

He truly hated himself for what he had done, or better say what he hadn’t done. Why should it have taken for Jake to take drugs for months for Mathew to remember that he wasn’t only a husband, but a father as well?

But what good did that /"what if/" do?

It was already too late for that. It’s always too late if the situation came to /"What-if-s/". All Mathew could do now was not to let things get worse. Maybe even though it’s late, even though things can’t get more messed up than this… maybe there is still hope.

Mathew stood up and walked to Jake. His shaking hand landed on his shoulder as the other one touched Jake’s wet with tears cheek.

/"Mom… does mom think I’m bad?/" Jake asked. Mathew couldn’t say anything. He simply took the phone from Jake and stopped the music. Then he grabbed Jake’s hands, stopping him from hurting himself. /"I failed a lot of classes… and… and then… will she scold me? I don’t want to make her sad…/" Jake’s voice was soft and somewhat hoarse, yet it sounded too childish and innocent, not like that of a twenty-year-old man.

/"She won’t get mad./" Mathew answered as he pulled Jake towards the kitchen. He poured Jake a glass of water and gave it to him.

/"You’re mad at me too./" Jake said once he drank the water. /"You hate me too./" His soft voice suddenly rose, his lips tightened in a straight line. Jake scoffed. /"It’s okay. I hate me too./"

Shoving the empty glass on his father’s hand, Jake walked up to his room and locked himself inside. He was already feeling drowsy, not sure if it was because it had been quite a while since he last slept or because of the drug’s side effects. Still, he refused to sleep. The lingering fears were rooted deep down in his heart.

Instead, he lied down in his bed and in a daze stared at his hands. For some reason they were red, but he didn’t remember touching red paint. It didn’t occur to him that it was actually his own blood from all that anxious scratching. Staring at the hands, he smiled, finding the sight of it beautiful. His pale skin deeply contrasted the redness. The color looked so vivid, and it reminded him of Ryder… she had tied her hair with a red ribbon the first day he saw her… Jake remembered it well…

As he thought about it, a smile lifted the corners of his lips.

It was uncertain when Jake finally fell asleep while staring at the blood on his hands, a small silly smile still on his face, but when he woke up, it was already late in the afternoon. Warm golden sunlight invaded the room, falling on his face. It was this that woke him up.

Voices came from downstairs. Judging by the fact that they were loud enough to be heard from the second floor, Jake knew it was Jeremy fighting with Aiden or even his father. Most likely Aiden…

This little brother of his despised Jake, and this wasn’t something he wasn’t aware of. He could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. It’s just that Jake chose to ignore it.

Jeremy couldn’t though. He couldn’t ignore it and pretend as if nothing was wrong.

Jake got up from his bed, ruffling his hair in a mess before walking downstairs to the kitchen. Compared to the previous day, he felt much better. His head didn’t ache anymore, and he felt more energetic. Still, he had no appetite. The only reason why he was going to the kitchen was because he was in dire need for his loved coffee that he didn’t get yesterday.

What Jeremy and Aiden were fighting about was uncertain, but one thing was for sure. The topic of their heated argument was Jake. And as the hot topic he was, Jake walked to the kitchen making coffee for himself as if the two other people in there didn’t even exist.

Aiden hated this indifference of him. Why was it that nothing fazed this guy at all? No matter what, he was numb to everything. Just like a lifeless China doll. Cracked and broken and empty inside. A freak.

Aiden scoffed upon seeing Jake. /"Why do you even care about him? It’s not like he will be grateful to you./" He said to Jeremy. Without waiting for Jeremy to blow up, Aiden walked out of the kitchen.

/"Don’t listen to him…/" Jeremy turned to Jake who simply shrugged in response. The former sighed. /"When did you come back home yesterday?/"

/"In the morning…/" Jake answered, not quite sure. It was morning, right? He just remembered that at some point before falling asleep, the light from the lamp gradually melted with the sunlight.

Thinking of then, Jake frowned. His eyes fell on his wrists and hands, only then remembering that he had hurt himself. The vivid red color from last night had already dried to a sickening brown. Seeing it, something churned in his stomach, and before he could run to the bathroom, Jake threw up on the floor.

He hadn’t eaten anything for days, and all that came out was only stomach acid that burned his throat.

Jeremy had already gotten used to such situations, reacting immediately. However, he couldn’t get used to the helplessness and worry he felt every time.

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