I used to be carefree and happy. I used to have many friends. I had the perfect life. I had few bullies. But one day, that all changed. I was in middle school, walking in the hallway when I suddenly thought back to when I was in kindergarten, and when these two kids pointed out that I was wearing my pants backwards and I started crying. I began to feel really depressed and sad. I slumped down onto the floor. I just didn’t feel like walking, or living, or doing anything anymore. I sat there and cried.
Once my parents found out about what had happened, they confronted me.
“Jack, there’s something we need to talk about,” my mom said softly.
“Your mother’s right,” my dad continued. “You can tell us if something is wrong. You know you can tell us anything.”
I sat there trying to make the least amount of eye contact that I could. My parents want me to be the best I can be, or the best version of me. If they learned about how I really was, I could be a burden in their lives. “ Please just tell us. Your teachers told us you’ve been acting differently ever since you broke out into tears, ‘and for no reason at all.’ That’s what you told the teachers.” My mom started to sob, looking as miserable as ever.. My dad looked furious, and also like he’s been crying for hours. Finally I told them, I realized that keeping this from them was really just destroying them more than the truth.
“Fine, I'll tell you. Suddenly, I’ve been feeling really sad. Being around people makes me feel worse. Breathing makes me regret life. I regret being born! Sometimes I just want to-” I stopped. I realized that I was crying, but not just that, my mom was screaming. My dad was asking, again and again, ‘was it never enough?’ They immediately took me to a doctor. They knew something was wrong with me and I needed help.
Once the doctors broke the news, my parents couldn’t stand it anymore. They took me and ran away. To hear the words, “ Your son Jack has been diagnosed with Bipolar disorder,” my parents just… couldn’t handle it. It was too much for them. Their way of dealing with the problem was to take me into hiding and I was pulled out of school. They threw away everything that I could use to contact others. They only had one phone that they would share, and one computer. They would research things that could help me. I left everything over the last few months, and leaving my friends broke my heart-but day by day, I saw something new.
My parents say, “ It’s just a coping mechanism. It’ll pass.” But it only made me feel more different from the world like I was something else. Finally, one day, my parents sat me down for a talk.
“Jack-no more running,” my mom told me. “ We understand how you feel. You don’t deserve this.” Dad told me. “We decided-” he was saying, when I saw a girl. Looking like someone from the 40’s. Only worse. Like dead. I screamed in horror as she slowly got closer to mom and dad.
“Get out! Move. Go! She’s behind you! RUN,” I bellowed at the top of my lungs. Barely an inch behind them, her hands wrapped around their necks, bright red blood on her chipped, cracked fingernails, grinning.
My parents turned around as if the girl still didn’t have her hands looped tightly around their throats. “ Where. I don’t see anything,” they both told me. But I didn’t respond. I only stood there, paralyzed in fear, crying, and not a word out of me as the girl faded away, her face still twisted in that eerie smile, weird ooze still dripping from her mouth onto her stained brown clothes.
It only took for my parents to scream, and shake out of the trance. “ Jack, stop please! Come back,” Finally I snapped out of it. I told them, “She was there. She was just there- about to hurt you. I-I-” I stopped, realizing they’d never believe me. My stared at me in disbelief . “ And? What happened?” My dad asked me. “Nevermind-it’s nothing,” I told them, heaving a sigh. If I really told them the truth, then they would send me to a place to ‘help me.’
About an hour later, my parents just tried talking to me again to attempt to understand why I was so upset. After I began crying and didn’t speak, they realized that I wouldn’t tell them, and they should just stop trying. They decided to tell me the news. I sat still, with my puffy red face, fidgeting. They slowly and softly started to speak up and tell me.
“Jack, we've got some important news that we think you're going to be ecstatic about. We figured that since it’s summer break now, we will have more time to adjust to the change,” my mother told me. I listened intently. And that was when I heard the dreaded words.
“We’re moving.”
“NO!” I suddenly blurted out at the top of my lungs, not thinking. “MY FRIENDS! YOU TWO- YOU’RE MY PARENTS! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO HELP ME! AND- AND UNDERSTAND ME! BUT WHENEVER I TELL YOU SOMETHING, YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME, AND NOW YOU WANT TO MOVE AND I HAVE TO START FRESH AND NEW AND LEAVE EVERYTHING BEHIND?!” I yelled at my parents. And then I realized what I had said. I lowered my voice, ashamed. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, looking down at my feet. “I didn’t mean it.”
“No, it’s okay,” my dad replied softly, tears in his eyes. “You’re right. We’ll stay here. You’ve- we’ve built up so many memories here and it’s unfair to you if we leave and abandon them all.” My dad hugged me tightly, my mom joining in. But it didn’t feel like a hug.
I looked up, and there she was. The girl from earlier, with her creepy stare and eyeless sockets looking right at me. She just stood there, then disappeared- and even if I wanted to tell my parents, they would never believe me. A ghost was haunting me, and there was nothing I could do about it.
--------------Part 2 Coming Soon--------------