Capítulo 4: Every Action

The days replayed themselves in Jack's mind over and over while he read disinterestedly. Getting punched over and over by a boy covered in barely perceptible blue mucus. It still hurt in places. The pink slime seemed agitated by this and was constantly pushing up against the jar towards him. Almost 8 billion assholes on this world. No asshole was too kind a word for what humanity was. Monster, that was the right word. Every good deed could be attributed to a selfish motivation, every bad deed was the true face of the person. People found who they were in the moments of pure selfishness.

He thought back further. A time when he had thought he had friends. Hadn't they abandoned him at the first sight of something better? And wasn't it his own selfishness that called it abandonment? The truth was that they had all planned on going to college together. They all loved technology and had planned to go to the South Dakota Institute to further their ability together. But when the four of them were accepted and he wasn't. They went without him. He had never cared about grades in school, after all he knew what he was good at, and History or English wasn't that, so why bother with them? He never cared so much as when he retook the year, proving himself by getting a 4.0 in the first semester.

But when he applied with that as proof of his academic ability. The only response was another letter of rejection. "To Jack Simuls, We appreciate your attempts to join our college, but you are not your friends. We are an institution that prides itself on looking forward towards a brighter dawn for humanity. It is clear from your grades across all your time in school, you do not look towards the future, nor care about it. You are simply jealous that your friends made it in while you did not. This indicates you are not only more passive than students here, but also driven by emotion. Something we do not need on the cutting edge of technology. While we cannot accept you into our institution, we would suggest that you attend a community college, get a job in engineering or as an apprentice bio-mechanist. Things more suited to a man of your talents. All the best, South Dakota Institute President, James Griffith."

That was when the depression had first set in. When he had stopped retaking the year. Watching with delight as his grades dropped. Growing bitter at his friends and himself. He didn't touch his beloved projects for weeks. Staying in bed, thinking about that letter. Steeping in the a teacup filled with his own bitterness on the inside, and a room with an ungodly stench on the out. He was eventually driven to try and end it all.

February 29, it was a leap year when he tried. Nothing fancy, just a knife to his own body. If he had been a little more to the left he would have succeeded in hitting the heart. As it was, his parents heard the thump of his body hitting the floor. They ran up the stairs and his father, a nurse at the local hospital began to administer first aid, while his mother called for an ambulance.

If his father hadn't insisted on living close to work, if he hadn't been a nurse. Any of these things would have allowed Jack to die in peace. As it was, he woke up a week later. His mother was there, sleeping in a chair they put next to him.

He didn't remember her reaction. All he remembered was the pain of waking up alive. The desperation to find a knife, or anything to finish the job. And the letter. The letter his friends sent. Signed by all of them, it read; "Sup Jack, we heard about what you did. We just wanted to say don't give up. You'll get here eventually. They wouldn't give us time off on threat of expulsion for some reason, but we know you'll pull through. See you soon. Allie, Jer-Jer, Jimmy, Sarah.

P.S. Seriously man, we are still your friends even though they won't let us visit, don't die before we can see you again."

They were more worried about what that college thought than him, yet again. Anger coursed through Jack, he hated all of them. His parents, his friends. They all seemed to think he could do it, but none of them were there against the college. They all thought it was his fault. That was when he stopped talking to people. His parents put him in therapy. But it just turned into two hours of the therapist trying to get him to talk. He refused to. He was even a failure at killing himself. He decided not to try again.

A knock came at Jack's door. Interrupting his thoughts, and causing him to second guess his trick for staying home half a moment. "It's Saturday." he said quietly to himself calming down.

"One sec." he said, putting the jar with the test subject in his desk drawer.

His father came in. He didn't look happy. "Jack." he said, taking up the entire doorframe with his squared shoulders, especially since they were crossed. "We just got a letter saying you haven't been at class these past few months. In addition you finally showed up to school for a single day, and got into a fight. What's happening?"

"It's nothing." Jack said, knowing his father wouldn't accept that as an answer. Also knowing that deep down his father wanted to yell, but wouldn't because he would loose face.

"Don't give me that crap." his father said, "I know your mother and I seem distant, we don't really know how to help you. But we want to. We need you to want our help though, and you are making that really hard."

"There was a bully in the schoolyard, he was stealing a girls keychain, I just walked by at the right time."

It was a lie of omission. That didn't bother Jack. What bothered him, was the attempt to save face in front of his father. He felt guilt building in the bottom of his stomach, like a big black ball.

Then the realization hit. "Why do I try to avoid my own selfishness? Why don't I just embrace the villain I really am? Why don't I just end the world? The world won't let me die, unless I take it down with me."

The guilt left, hand in hand with Jack's conscience.

"I was a hero dad," he said, "I finally overcame my depression, and went to school. The first thing that happened was I saw a bully and I took care of him."

His father smiled at the blatant lie, believing it full-heartedly. "Well if that's the case, I'm proud of you son."

Jack felt nothing at those words. He had told his father what he wanted to hear, and it felt good to get away with it. Where the guilt had been, a blackened, twisted joy began to sprout, glad at his own ability to play another human like a fiddle.