Before I Break (23 page)

“What if I don’t want to live a happy life?” I asked. “What if I just want to mourn like a normal person?”

Dr. Charles leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on his legs. “Cyril. You are not mourning like a normal person. Sadness is one thing, and even depression. But your outbursts and suicidal thoughts, while normal, are not healthy, and we want you to get better.”

He was very convincing, although I really wished he wasn’t. I wanted to be allowed to feel this way, but clearly there was no getting away with it. Finally, I gave up. “You know, maybe you’re right. But what if it doesn’t work? Who’s to say all this therapy will be for nothing?”

“It won’t,” Dr. Charles explained. “If you take the effort to get better, you’ll feel better and then you’ll
be
better.”

Nodding, I stood up, feeling ready to go. “Are we done here?”

He nodded as well. “Therapy begins tomorrow.”

As I had expected, therapy was a complete drag. Not only that, but along with therapy, I was also being asked a million and one questions by the police about what happened
that night
. The investigation was not going well.

Jake was arrested the day I told my parents, as I expected, and the day after he has his first court date. They discussed his charges—1st degree murder and assault and battery with the use of a deadly weapon—and then set a hearing for a couple of months from now. Then he would go through his pre-trial, and most likely, the actual trial, where he will then be sentenced to whatever they decide to give him. Personally, I hoped he’d get death. I wanted to see him dead just like Avery was, and as they told me here at the Institute, that was fairly normal.

Along with that came a very frustrating matter. According to South Carolina law, there is no enhancement if it is considered a hate crime, meaning they will overlook the hate crime itself and not give him more time for it. While I was almost positive this was a hate crime, there was really nothing I could do.

My time here was also running out. They were only meant to keep me for seven days, and I was already running on almost six, making me nervous. I still ignored Austin due to the pain and suffering I felt any time I saw his face, but he was starting to grow on me when I listened to him in group. He had depression and anxiety, being admitted after trying to kill himself by drowning. His mother found him in their pool in the backyard and brought him to the hospital right away. As he told that story, he stared at me with his eyes bright, seeming to see right through me. I was sure after all my time here, they all had to know what had happened. Thankfully none of them actually approached me about it.

Now here I was, dreading the day that I would have to leave. For me, it wasn’t all about being scared of the world, but I was scared of myself. I didn’t know what I would do if I left, and here I felt safe.

I was taken off suicide watch when they put me on Prozac, just like Avery had taken. Every time I saw the pill I thought about him—not that I never thought about him—and it amplified my emotions. Life really was a struggle to be lived.

Today, on my sixth day, I sat in one of the chairs in the living room, thinking about things. Avery. Melissa. My parents. Almost anything that had caused me some sort of pain over the last two weeks, and I blamed myself for everything.

Austin came and sat beside me and said, “You’re thinking.”

“Yeah.” The word came out so deep I almost didn’t think it was mine. “How’d you know?”

“You’ve got that look on your face,” he said and waited for me to say something. When I didn’t, he said, “Did you know I’m gay?”

I looked at him and, for the first time in weeks, I laughed. “What a surprise.”

“What does that mean?”

For the first time, I actually had the courage to speak up about everything that happened, so I told him. I told him about how I was before I met Avery. I told him how life was with Avery around, our fights, our make-ups, and his book that he had written, that I later found out was still being published in honor of his death. I also went on to explain how he died, telling him about Jake and Melissa, and then found myself in tears by the time I finished talking.

Austin put his hand on top of mine and patted it, saying, “I’m sorry. I guess I remind you a lot of him in ways, don’t I?”

I nodded, wiping a tear from my cheek. “I just don’t get it,” I sobbed. “I don’t get how Jake could do this to me, and even to himself. He’s going to spend the rest of his life in jail most likely, all because—”

“He made the choice,” Austin interrupted. “Not you. In my opinion, I think he deserves death, but who are we to decide who should live and who should die? By giving him the death sentence, we’re practically doing the same thing he did.”

“How so?” I asked.

“If he believed he was doing it for the right reasons and that gay people are so bad,” he went on, “that means he felt he was doing some good. Somehow, in that black, cold heart, he felt like he was right in doing so. Which means we feel like we’re doing something right by killing him, but who’s to say it is? That’s in God’s hands, not ours.”

He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, handing it to me discreetly. “Here’s my number. I’m leaving today, and when you get out, call me. I think you really need a friend, and I do too, so we could be of use to each other.”

That was the last time I had spoken to Austin while we were there, and I didn’t expect to call him. But after I found out I was getting discharged the next day, he was the first person I was going to call.

Sometimes friends can be found in the strangest of places.

I would tell you everything that happened for the next couple of months, but I feel as if it defeats the purpose of writing this memoir. This is not a book about crime, or the law, but about what happened to me before my life fell apart, and the aftermath.

So to make a long story short…

My parents separated right after I got home and I lived with my mother for a majority of the time. They felt as if I had the right to choose where I wanted to be, and so I stayed with the one person who understood my pain.

They asked for my statement at the trial, but I felt as if that would be too much to bear, so I didn’t go. I did hear that several revelations were made that evening.

One: Jake pleaded guilty of insanity, but the jury believed that, while the discovery of his mental health issues that no one knew about came out, many people have mental health issues and don’t go around killing people. So, he was guilty of 1st degree murder and sentenced for life.

Second: They also discovered a journal filled with pages upon pages of his anti-gay rants, but due to South Carolina law, he was not charged with a hate crime, but was still sentenced for life.

And lastly: The assault and battery charges were dropped, but thankfully, he still got life.

The truth was, I was disappointed with the way things worked out. That whole year had been a terrible mess, but thankfully he finally got what he deserved. I was proud of that.

Avery’s book also got published and made the Bestseller list at #1 and I read it all in one sitting.

A lot of you may be wondering what exactly happened with Avery’s funeral, but I wanted to save that part for last. It’s always better to save the best for last, isn’t it?

To give the family some time to mourn, they waited until after Jake’s sentence to hold the funeral, and thanks to his choice of a speedy trial, we could do that without too much of a wait. At first I didn’t understand why, but I understood the reason once I arrived with Melissa and my new friend, Austin. It wasn’t about holding off or trying to forget that it happened, but because they wanted peace.

It was the most peaceful funeral I had ever seen. There were some tears, but not as many, as we had all had time to mourn our beloved Avery. There were pictures of him all around us, from the time he was born to just days before he died.

I was an emotional wreck no matter what, and I found myself crying almost the entire time. When the service started, I knew I needed to get myself together.

The pastor went up and began. “All of you here today knew Avery Branson some way or another. Whether you were best friends with him, his family, or just knew him in the hallways at East Hill, we can all agree on one thing—he was a bright spirit.

“For months before his death, he had been writing a book. This book, as most of you know, is called
Falling Stars
and can be found at any bookstore near you, or can be located in the back. In this book, he talks of the story of two guys who fall in love, but the only problem was that one of them was straight.

“For Avery’s age,” the pastor went on, “He was mature, well educated, and prepared for a greater future. While he is in a better place now, probably watching us right now, we can all say that this hasn’t been easy. I personally knew Avery from a few years ago and have offered to speak today because I feel I owe him for all the pain and suffering he went through at our church. But I am not here to speak of his suffering, but instead, the joy of his life.”

There were muffled cries throughout the room.

“I ask that if any of you have prepared a eulogy, please come up to the stands now.”

Tina was the first to get up. Avery’s sister sat in the crowd, too tearful to come up. I was shocked at how well Tina looked even through all of this, and I smiled when she started to speak.

“Avery was the best son that anyone could have asked for,” she started, wiping a tear from her eye. “He was the light of my world, and no matter what happened in our lives, he pushed through it. A lot of people saw the scars on his arms as a weakness, but I saw them as a tiger earning his stripes.” She wiped another tear from her eye and I heard her sniffle in sorrow. “He went through hell and he made it through. Those scars were a sign of healing that occurred in him, and I had never been more proud of a person in my life.”

More cries rose from the crowd and when I glanced over at Melissa, she was sobbing quietly so that no one could hear her. I patted her back and pulled her close, continuing to listen to this eulogy.

“His book shocked me in more ways than one,” Tina went on. “It showed maturity that many his age can’t because they hadn’t gone through what he did. So what exactly does that mean? Does it make him better than us? In some ways, yes, but in most, he showed me that we all have the potential to be better people. He chose his route and I think we all have that same power to choose ours.”

By then I was crying harder, feeling the ache in my heart grow large.

“There is one person here today that I feel has something to say. I won’t force you to come up,” she said, “but I think we would all like to hear from you.”

As she walked away from the podium, I knew she was talking about me. Did I really want to give a eulogy about a guy I treated so terribly? Of course I did. He deserved better and I was going to give it to him.

Slowly standing up from my seat, I walked to the front of the chapel and up the podium. I stared out at the crowd and saw so many more than I imagined would be here. Trying to find the right words to say took me a moment, but when I did, they flowed like a river out of my mouth.