There were five of them in the little spanish style house in the middle of the block, on whatever street in that city. Just looking at the house you could tell it was used to the hustle and bustle that came with multiple boys. There were chips off the stucco where a boy clearly had defied his father’s will and thrown the ball against it. From the front you could see the remains of an old, dilapidated tree house, overgrown with moss, the wood crumbling at the touch. The youngest brother was the only one left at home, he was in 8th grade and his brothers were supposedly both in college. His oldest brother Josh had actually dropped out two months prior for medical reasons. His other brother was safe and sound up at some college a several hours drive, close enough so he had to drive so visits weren’t very frequent. The boy’s parents both had full time jobs which meant for the most part the boy walked home and was home alone. The parents sold it as “independence” but the boy just thought about how he had to walk home. The life of the boy and his family was perfect, the kids went to private school when they were younger then transferred to public for junior high. At least that's how two of the three kids did it. The other was the oldest, the most pampered, maybe that's why college was such as shock. That was the extent of the boy’s knowledge of his oldest brother’s situation, plus a few words he didn’t understand. The family lived a fairly cookie cutter life in the middle of their sunny cookie cutter town.

One day the youngest boy walked through the door, set his backpack down and slipped off his shoes. Where were the dogs, he wondered. They always greeted him at the door but today was different. Why, he asked himself, where could they be. Whatever, they’re just in one of the bedrooms. He looked around and found them but they weren’t locked up, just laying outside his brothers room. That seemed weird but to a thirteen year old it didn't much matter. He went in the room to see if his brother was home and there he was, sound asleep. The sleeping brothers head was turn to face the window, a thin line of drool slipping onto the pillow, his body contorted, taking up the entire queen sized mattress. Similar to any day in the past two months the boy was passed out. It seemed every day all Josh did was sleep. The boy's parents said Josh suffered from something called bipolar depression, but to him those words were too long and confusing to have any meaning.

After the boy noticed Josh was asleep, he closed the door without a sound and crept downstairs. Just another day he flicked on the television, ate some food and finished his homework. The boy's mother got home around six o'clock just like every other day and just like every other day she asked how Josh seemed. “No idea” the boy responded, “He’s asleep” and he continued watching TV. About five minutes later the boy’s relaxation was sharply interrupted by screams for his name. Flying off the couch and up the stairs and into his brothers room. To his dismay his mother stood holding his brother, hysterically saying 911, 911, 911. The boy knew what was needed and grabbed a phone.

“Hello what is your emergency?”
“I’m not sure but my brother won’t wake up, send an ambulance”
“Right away sir please stay on the line help will be there shortly”

Help arrived in a minute as the boy lived around the corner from Scripps Hospital. First the paramedics, then the firetruck and even three cops. The boy kept his cool and grabbed the dogs, who at this point had lost their s***, and took them to another room. There he stayed for the longest minute of his life. It felt though an hour had passed by in the brief seconds. The serenity in the room trapped him. Engulfing him like the tentacles of an octopus, but he knew he had to return to reality. His mother needed him. He tried to take a step but his feet were cemented to the ground. The boy was stuck, he couldn’t move, he wouldn’t move. He seemed to have an out of body experience as he looked at himself, yelling at his body to move but nothing. His feet wouldn’t respond to his brain’s commands. Then his mother’s voice snapped him out of it. “Where are you” Like a jackhammer, her words turned the cement keeping him from reality to dust.

He stepped back into the chaos only to be rejected. There he stood with absolutely nothing he could do but get in the way. He was only thirteen so why would anyone ask him questions? Unlike the boy who was left alone, the mother was bombarded by person after person, question after question, and paper after paper until finally it began to subside.

That’s when dad arrived.
Just in time to see the flashing lights from down the street as he hoped and prayed they weren’t at his house but of course they were. The man sprinted into the house perfectly timed to see his son’s limp body over a broad shoulder being brought outside to the waiting ambulance. Now at least the little boy had his father, he thought, as he knew he had to explain what had happened.
“I’m not sure, he was just kind of lying there, not moving and stuff” the boy said the words sadly.
“OK, where’s mom,” questioned the father, “SUSIE” he shouted.
“DAN...Is that you.” a sweet voice replied.
A quick embrace united the two only to split back up and go fill out more paperwork. After a little while most uniformed men had left the house except for three policemen. They had to file the official report, but to the boy it seemed just an excuse to ignore him longer. It seemed like hours on end that his parents sat with the men at the dining table, talking about everything. What had happened, who was with him. They even logged onto his computer and that’s when it really went south.

The History Read:
-10 easiest ways to kill yourself
-most painless ways to kill yourself
-suicide hotline
The boy heard those words and ran in.
“What’s happening mom…” no answer
“Dad” still nothing
“Mom” the boy yelled
“Josh is having problems right now and we’re trying to fix it”
“That’s bullshit”
“No bad language in front of these men” as the mother motioned to the police
“Alright whatever”
“We’re gonna go over to the hospital now honey, you can com-”
The boy interrupted “No I have homework and it’s late”

Stunned the mother fumbled for words. She wanted her boy to be safe and she realized that by visiting the hospital it may do more bad than it would good. There would be no benefit for the little boy to see his oldest brother passed out. Still, how could she leave him alone, seeing how that was her mistake with the other son. Finally after a minute she, softly, almost not even speaking, said, “Alright, we’ll see you in the morning,” but you could see it in her eyes the last thing the mother bear wanted to do was leave her cub.

Stomping downstairs the boy understood what his parents were doing but hated it nonetheless. He didn’t care that his mother clearly only wanted only the best for him, only wanted to protect him. Goddam he wanted to know what was happening with his brother. Why hadn’t he gone with them to the hospital, he thought to himself. What was wrong with him that he would rather stay home than see his brother when he needed it most. Better to just forget it he thought as he went into his room. The deep blues of his walls engulfed his conscious and the soft bed allowed him sweet escape. He instinctively opened the drawer that held the things his parents didn’t want him to have, just as he did any time he was angry. The twist of the mason jar, the tapping of the glass, the flick of the lighter and the slight burn as he breathed in the smoke. The problems of the day diminished until they weren’t there anymore like ice in the sun. The boy just lay back, turned on some music and fell asleep.
The boy didn’t dream that night which was probably for the best.

Beep Beep Beep, the sound every teen hates so much, that damn automatic alarm clock that ruins every dream right at the best moment. The boy went through the same routine as he always did before school, he woke up, splashed icy water across his face, grabbed whatever clothes were closest to the bed and crawled up the stairs. The boy didn’t really wake up until he was eating, everything was so second nature. He grabbed his heavy backpack and left because yes, even with the s*** that happened the night before, that’s what he had to do, school. It wasn't all bad though, his mom was staying home so at least he wouldn’t have to walk back afterwards.

As the boy got to school and realized how bad that day was going to be. He needed to tell somebody but chose to bottle it up, letting the pressure build inside himself like a can of soda dropped on the ground. He stepped into first period english but the only thing on his mind was his brother. Learning about theses and chunks sounded tremendously better that the images and voices playing on a loop in his head. Next was history and the boy was getting so annoyed even the revolutionary war seemed like sweet escape. Nothing bad was actually happening to him but he couldn’t put the image of his lifeless brother out of his head. The rest of the day was a mixture of headaches, bathroom breaks and daydreams but the boy survived just like his parents said he would. Lucky he never exploded from the chaos that was tumbling through his mind. 2:30 the bell released everyone but the boy felt that the real work had just begun. He drove home fairly quietly only listening to his mother,

“You were great, you did everything you could have, what would I have done without you.”
The boy was getting annoyed. He wasn’t saying anything but looking at him you could tell from, his furrowed brow and deep creases that grew across his forehead. Why wouldn’t she say anything about josh, he wondered. He finally asked.

Her only response was “wait until we get home”.

Stepping through the door he asked again and his mother started, “he is sick, we have told you we just never thought he would go this far but he did.” The mother said this with anguish in her voice as if saying it made it true. You could tell she wanted nothing more than to protect her little one but she knew he needed the truth. “He took all his pills yesterday with a bottle of wine. He attempted suicide but he’s going to be alright. There’s no permanent damage but he’s going to be in the hospital for a while and then he needs to go get help somewhere else.”

The boy had stopped listening as soon as his mother said “he’s going to be alright”

Those five words kept him going months on end. They kept him hopeful through the months where Josh was “getting help”. The months where it “was gonna get worse before it got better.” The months that finally led up to the little boy embracing his older brother, knowing that he was gonna be alright.