Mr. Harold
“Mr. Harold was always the quiet teacher. Everyone knew that. So why did he do this? No one will ever know, and that is very frightening. What insignificant incident pushed this quiet collected man over the edge enough to do something as tragic and terrible as this? I don’t know, I’ve thought about it a lot since then, but nothing has ever made sense to me. My guess was that he was just in a very dark place.”
“Is that how you see things, Haylee?” Dr. Friedlander said.
“Yes, it is. I, by no means, agree with him or what he did. But something must have made him do it, that’s all I want to know.” I said.
“Everyone wants to know that, Haylee. But you talk like you could have prevented it. Do you think you could have?”
This guy just won’t quit. “I don’t know, but somebody could have.” My feelings are coming out again. “Somebody could have stopped him from taking my best friend away from me!” Stop crying. “Someone could have helped him.” You look weak.
“Haylee, it’s okay to be upset, that’s why I’m here, to help all these people here deal with this tragedy. Every day I see at least 100 kids, who all feel the same way you do. It gives me hope, hope that this generation of Americans won’t end up being selfish or corrupt. And that makes me smile, every day.”
I got to hand it to him, he was good. “So what should I do? Just go on like nothing even happened?”
“No what you do now is go on with life, appreciate life for what it is. Comfort your friends and family during this hard time that we are in.” Dr. Friedlander said.
I was headed home from that session with the Doctor, when I got a call from my friend Sarah. I don’t normally get calls. She would have texted me; it must be important. I don’t really want to be on the phone while I’m driving. It must be urgent. I grab my phone and begin to redial her, when suddenly she calls me again, haven’t even put in the area code. “Hey what’s up?” I say. I don’t really talk much on my phone, I almost exclusively text people.
“Haylee! I need to talk to you now!” She said in a panic.
“Whoa, hey! What’s wrong?” I said back.
“Just come over.” With those very abrupt instructions, she hung up. I had no choice now. Off we go.
When I got to Sarah’s house her mom was kind enough to let me in. Mrs. DuPont had always been sweet to me. “Is Sarah around?” I asked.
“Oh, of course, she’s right upstairs.” Mrs. DuPont said very softly.
“Is she doing okay?” I asked.
“She’s on and off. She’s taking Amber’s death very hard. How about you, how are you doing?” She always cared for others.
“I’m doing okay.” I said. “I’ve been seeing a grief counselor so that helps a little bit.”
“Oh good – good. Maybe you could take Sarah with you next time. It would be good for her.” Mrs. DuPont’s family and mine have been close for years, since Sarah, and I were about 6. We were the closest of friends.
I made my way upstairs into Sarah’s room. There she was lying on her double layer Serta foam mattress. Her bed always kind of made me jealous. She had one of those beds with the curtain that hung all the way around her bed, and then met at the top to form a princess like tip. She had so many posters on her walls, all of them being of whatever celebrity boy the girls our age liked to gawk at.
“Hey.” I said nervously. I knew we were about to have a deep talk.
“Hi.” She said wiping her tears away.
“Everything okay.” I asked. “You sounded kind of upset on the phone?”
“I just miss her. I really do, and I thought I would be okay, but im not, it just hurts more. I need my best friend, I need you.” She starts. I don’t like when people cry, it makes me want to cry, and that’s just a big mess.

“Sweetie, you’re not alone. All you ever have to do is give me a call, or just come over to my house, and we can talk there. or I can come here, just give me the word and I’ll be there. The point is you don’t have to be alone through this. I haven’t seen you since the funeral for everyone. And believe it or not I needed you. But you wouldn’t help me.” I can really go on. “Now, I’m helping you. Next Thursday, one week from now, you and I will go to a grief counselor. I’ve been seeing him for about 3 weeks now, and he really helps me.” She looks frightened.

“I don’t want to go see a grief counselor. I’m not crazy, I don’t need professional help I can take care of mys-“

“Hi Haylee. Time for your afternoon pills.” Huh. What’s going on?

“What are you talking about? I was just talking to Sar-“ Where did she go? She was right here. I was just in her room. Where did her bed go? “What’s going on here? Where am I?”

“Oh sweetie, you’ve been in here in ‘Washington State Psychiatric Ward’. You’ve been in here since the teacher at your school shot 12 kids. I know it’s a sore subject but that’s the truth. Now come here and take your pill.”

“How long have I been in here?” I asked.

“About 7 months. Now please take your pill and you will feel better.” She starts towards me, pill in hand. I took it from her and did my best to swallow it. It was down.

“-elf, you think you know so much don’t you?” She was angry now.