Chapter 18: Heading Home

"' I just wanted to, um, say I was sorry.'" Paulo's words ran through Mike's head. "'It was pretty messed up for me to say those things.' It was pretty messed up? That's what it was? Pretty messed?"

"I don't fucking want this anymore." Mike whispered to himself as he made haste down the hallway towards the exit of the school. "I am so fucking tired of dealing with these… these… fucking idiots. I mean they're just all completely fucking lunatic." Mike whispered, continuing to talk to himself.

"What is wrong with him? Why can't he just leave me alone? I am so tired of his voice, of his face, of his cocky attitude. I'm tired of him. I should turn around and show him how much I hate him. See that pitiful little cocky façade collapse." Mike thought to himself. He couldn't help but laugh a little bit to himself.

"Mike, wait!" Lucy said running up to him. He simply stopped and turned around. He didn't really know what to say to Lucy, or what to think about her coming up to him. His mind was running so fast he couldn't concentrate on what was going on around him. "What are you doing?" Lucy asked him, an odd mixture of annoyance and desperation in her voice.

"What am I doing? What am I doing?" Mike asked her as if she were stupid. "You just don't have any idea do you?" Mike asked her.

"Mike, what are you talking about?" She asked him slightly more annoyed at his condescending attitude. Mike laughed to himself, only confusing Lucy further.

"I'm talking about life, Lucy. I'm talking about me, you, Paulo… I'm talking about life." Mike said as his laughter faded away.

"You're not making any sense." Lucy said to him.

"How am I not making any sense? You haven't even given me a chance to explain." Mike said to her, his voice almost sarcastic sounding at this point.

"Okay, then what exactly is it you're trying to say?" Lucy responded, getting tired of him acting high and mighty.

"I'm trying to say this is all bullshit!" Mike said to her in sudden anger. "I'm trying to say I'm tired of this. I'm tired of Paulo, and I'm tired of life. Where am I headed Lucy? Where am I going in life? Why even stay alive? I should just fucking go home and kill myself, as if anyone would even notice. Everyone is so wrapped up in the shit that is this world, the shit that is life, that they wouldn't even care." Mike said to her, moving his arms wildly as he spoke. Lucy simply stood there and listened to him. Slowly, her anger became fear. Each word out of Mike's mouth seemed to scare her more and more. Were these simply words, or was he really considering this? Did he really mean what he said? Was he really going to go home and kill himself?

"… I would care." Lucy said with an almost timid voice.

"Lucy," Mike said with a slight chuckle. "You can't even understand, let alone care. You haven't the slightest idea, wait, no, scratch that. No one has any idea what's going through my head right now. None of you know what it's like to slowly die a little every day. And I'm not talking about the cancer. I'm talking about everything. Do you have any idea what it's like to wake up every day in pain? To wish you were dead? I didn't think so." Mike said glancing at his hand. The same hand that he had once imagined completely removed. The very hand that would have ceased to exist if he had been more like the very person who was causing him all this pain. He looked up at Lucy's face, and he hated what he saw. He saw pain, worry, confusion, and worst of all fear settled deep within her eyes.

"I can't fucking deal with this right now." Mike said as he began to walk down the hall, leaving Lucy where she stood, tears in her eyes. He quickly made his way to the exit, pushing the doors open with a violent shove, causing the hallway to echo with a loud bang.

He felt warm, humid air rush past him as he stepped outside. The sun was out and all in all, it was truly a beautiful day, but not to Mike. He trudged home, his mind racing, unable to truly gain any type focus for long. All he could tell was that he was pissed, and it had something to do with Paulo, Lucy, and himself. He just wanted to get home. He didn't know what he was going to do when he got there, but he just wanted to be alone. He didn't want to talk to his friends, his mom, Lucy, or even himself. He wanted his thoughts to stop, and he wanted to go to sleep. Whether or not he awoke didn't matter to him anymore. He just wanted to sleep. Hoping to not wake up was just another way life could deny him any happiness, so he choose to not care, or at least he tried not to.

Slowly, as his walk carried on, he grew more and more tired. His mind seemed to slow down, but unfortunately, he still lacked any ability to focus. He simply kept telling himself to make it home, that once he got there he would be okay, but he knew that was a lie. He knew that he would probably go in his room and sit there, wallowing in his own self-pity. In reality, he didn't want to be alone, but there was no one he knew he wanted to talk to. Like being hungry, yet not having anything you want to eat. Sure, he could satisfy his hunger, but in the end, he would be displeased. Displeased that he had to settle instead of actually having what he wanted. At this point, that seemed to be the story of his life.

Finally, he arrived on his street. He felt as though he wanted to collapse. His thoughts were but a blur, and his very walk seemed to have degenerated into a slow stagger. As he wandered down his street to his house, and then up to his front door, he turned the knob. He was glad to see today of all day's his mom had remembered to unlock the door for him. As he walked in, his eye lids heavy and his disposition pained, he made his way for the stairs, going straight to the confines of his room.

He closed his door, let out a heavy exhausted sigh, placed his backpack on his floor, and then made his way to his bed. He laid face down in a pillow and let the silence of the room envelop him. His thoughts continued to flow in his head, yet he chose not to focus on them. He couldn't have if he had tried. He was simply too tired. His head had nothing positive running through it anyway. It was sad it had gotten to the point that not only did he have to avoid other people, but he had to avoid himself.

Suddenly, Mike heard something.

"Hey, it's me!" He heard Blur's voice ring out from the other side of the door. "Open up."

"No…" Mike whispered to himself.

"Not now, anytime but now. Why, of all times, did you have to come now? Why of all the possible times did it have to be now?" Mike's screamed at himself in his head.

He slowly lifted his head, revealing his face. His eyes were wide with fear, anguish, and awe. He couldn't believe this was happening. Blur was right outside of his bedroom door waiting to talk to him. He was going to open the door and Blur was going to walk in. Then Mike was going to tell Blur about the cancer. It was about to happen. There was no stopping it. He didn't want to do this. Not again; not ever.