Site hosted by Angelfire.com: Build your free website today!

Taylor sat there for few minutes, then un-packed his bag and threw all the clothes in a pile on the floor, so he could pick them up later to be washed. Sitting back down he stared at his old room. He hadn't been back here in so long. It was different, he couldn't figure out what it was. But the room seemed like it had changed since he had been gone. He had to do something, he couldn't just sit there and wonder what his brother's would say, or if they would say anything at all. So he got up once more and searched through his chester drawers until he found some clothes, then went into the bathroom and took a shower. The hot water running through his tangled and dirty hair, over his filth covered face and neck. Once he had gotten out, he dried his hair with a blow drier and opened the bathroom door. He walked down the hall to their room, but stopped suddenly when he saw who was in there. It was Zac; Zac was sitting on his bed, as if he was waiting for someone. Quietly he crept back into the room. Automatically he looked down at the floor. He walked over to his bed and sat down once again. Not taking his eyes from the carpet. His hair fell into his face, but he didn't bother to put it behind his ear. The silence was horrible. The breath seemed to be caught in his throat, just waiting, wondering, hoping. Not a word was spoken. Taylor twisted his silver and blue silk shirt sleeve in his hands. It seemed that he had been sitting there for ages. Please, please say something Zac. You can't do this to me. You don't know what you are doing to me. He doesn't even know what he is doing does he? He doesn't know bad this is hurting me. How much pain he is causing me. Just one little word, Zac. Just say something. Please, you have to say something. Don't do this again, please don't do it again to me. He pleaded silently with his brother. He heard a creaking noise as Zac changed the way he was sitting. A clearing of the throat. Taylor kept fiddling with his shirt sleeve. Twisting it around and around. Another squeaking noise. Zac cleared his throat again. like he was going to speak when someone else came into the room. Taylor instinctivly looked up. Isaac was standing in the doorway. Quickly he looked down again. Twisting his shirt sleeve even more fiercely. He heard whispering and then the door shut. Taylor looked up again. Both his brothers were gone. He twisted so hard on his sleeve that it almost ripped off. He grew angry. They aren't going to do this again are they? Tay jumped up and sreamed, so loud that after he had done that his throat started to hurt. He couldn't believe they could possibly keep ignoring him like that. He ran over to the door and locked it before someone came in to ask what was wrong. He needed to be alone. "Taylor? What's the matter? Are you okay? Taylor let me in." It was his mother. So he didn't have to hear her, he put in a Green Day cd and turned it on as loud as the speakers would go. He was so angry, all the anger for his brothers that he had kept welled up inside of him suddenly came out. He screamed louder, but nothing could be heard over the blaring music. Wildly he looked around the room. His eyes were slits and his face was twisted in pure rage. He grabbed the first thing he could, Zac's comic book he had on his bed, and started ripping it to shreds. After that was finished he crushed the massive lego castle that his brother's had built. Then he turned angrily to the closet and started throwing out every piece of clothing his brother's owned onto the floor. Once that was done he turned around and was going over to the other side of the bed to find what he could destroy there when he tripped over something. Taylor went flying, he turned around to see what had made him fall. It was Zac's baseball bat, an evil grin crept across his face. Quickly he picked it up, yelling his head off he smashed everything in sight. Pieces of shattered cd's went flying every where. After an hour of demolishing everything with the bat, he dropped it and looked over at the walls which were decorated in souviners from every concert they had ever done. Tay was so angry he couldn't stop himself. He was so mad that they could keep ignoring him, and that they made the band fall apart. He ripped the posters off of the wall and tore them in half. Grabbing the backstage passes which were hanging from a nail he flung them across the room. "How could you do this to me?" He screamed. By now his throat was getting raw with all the screaming. But he didn't even notice. "I'm your brother!! We're supposed to be friends!! What happened? What did I ever do to you? I don't understand.. I don't understand.." He trailed off as his voice got quieter. Slumping down onto the sea of smashed cd's, paper, glass, and everything else you could think of, he looked for something he could destroy on the floor. Under Isaac's bed he saw his older brother's prized posetion. It was a shoe box filled with his art work. Ripping the shoe box apart he tore each drawing one by one into little peices. But he stopped when he saw a picture of all three of them. It looked liked the picture he had drawn of them. In the far right corner it had C.I.H Isaac's initials. It was perfectly drawn, it looked just like a snap shot. The picture stopped him dead in his tracks of tearing it apart. He couldn't move, it was like he was stunned. He ran his fingers over the drawing. A tear fell and got the drawing wet. Tay dropped it and put his head in his hands. Faster the tears fell. He couldn't stop himself and soon he was sobbing un-controlably. The slowest song on the album started playing "Time of your life (Good Riddance)" it added to his deppression and made him cry more. How could everything change so fast? How could they just cut me off like that so suddenly? Why? What did I do? What did I do? Those words kept running through his head What did I do? But no answer came to him. He couldn't figure it out. Whatever he had done couldn't have been bad enough to deserve all this pain.

¤ ¤ ¤ After hours of sitting on the floor, crying he had finally stopped. So, had the music. He got up and looked around at the damage he had done. The room looked like a bomb had hit it. Everything was broken, ripped, shattered and on the floor. Sullenly he got up and crawled to his bed. He felt like he had weights on his feet. Finally he made it. Curling up into a tight ball he lay there with his eyes open, wondering what he would do. This was only his first day home and he already wanted to go back to Oklahoma City. He just wished he could live there all his life, with Amanda there to comfort him, and Eric to help him. Eric's more of a brother to me than these guys will ever be. He thought sadly. Thinking of Amanda he reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled peice of paper she had given him with her number on it. Reaching over he picked up the phone and dialed. It rang.. once...twice...three times.. He listened as it rang eight...nine... No one picked up, finally the answering machine picked it up. Quickly Tay put down the phone. Rolling over he thought of her. He wished he was with her now. He needed her, to hold him, and comfort him.. and mostly to talk to him and tell him that atleast she loved him. All night he lay in that position, not moving, not sleeping, just thinking, and with every thought the hatred towards what his brothers were doing grew and grew. Once he finally broke from his thoughts he looked out the window, it was morning. The next day. He looked at his watch, it was 11:22. Knocking caught his attention. "Taylor, please open the door. Are you all right? Tay, Talk to me baby." It was his mother again. He didn't say anything. Just sneezed, which didn't help the rawness in his throat any. After a couple more minutes knocking on the door without any answer from her son Diana went back down the stairs. He wondered where his brothers slept the night before since they couldn't get into their room. Taylor got up slowly but once he did he knew he shouldn't've. He felt like a truck had run over him and his eyes started swimming. Quickly he lay back down. Now his head began to pound. And ringing started up in his ears. Tay lay there for a few minutes trying to make the sound go away when an uneasiness came into his stomach. Uh oh. He thought. As quick as he could he rolled over and grabbed the plastic trash can. Just in time. Gross. He thought and pushed the smelly trash can away. Last night's dinner had just come up. Great, now I'm sick. Miserably Taylor layed in his bed hoping he would get better as fast as possible. The day went by quickly because Tay slept through it all. Only waking up one or twice to be sick again.
**Three Days Later**
Taylor had been sneaking down every night at around 1:00a.m. to get a peice of bread or something that he thought wouldn't up set his stomach even more. And to clean out his trash can, which made his room stink. He had just made it back up the stairs and shut and locked his door. He ate the peice of bread with jelly and drank the water he had brought up. Then sat there for a few minutes making sure it wouldn't come back up any time soon. Then he grabbed the phone and picked it up. Hearing a dial tone he dialed in Amanda's number. He didn't care that it was 1:30 in the morning. He had to call her, and hear her voice. In the day it was too hard to call her, because he was afraid that someone would be listening in. He just hoped she answered and not her parents. "Hello?" Oh, God, it's her dad. Should I say something? No, no he wont let me talk to her at this time.. 'Click', Taylor hung up. I must be really stupid or something to think that SHE would pick up. But he couldn't think any more about it because he was interrupted by his stomach churning. Quickly he grabbed the trash can. Once it was over he lay back down in bed and wondered if he was ever going to see Amanda again.
**The next day**
The familiar knocking sound woke him up. It was going to be his mother again he knew it. "Taylor, please let me in, please Tay. Come on honey. What's wrong?" Yep! He was right. It was her. After she went away he picked up the phone again. He had no choice, he had to call her. He had dreamed of her all night and he would die without hearing her voice, to comfort him. Taylor dropped the phone as his stomach started doing summersaults and threw up in the trash can again. He picked up the phone.. once more and dialed her number. "Hello?" It was her father agian. "Um.. yeah.. hi... is Amanda there?" "Who is this?" Mr. Casey asked. "It's..uh...Taylor.. Or.. um.. Jordan." "Taylor? Taylor Hanson?" "Yes... uh... is she there?" "Yes, but you can't talk to her." "Why?" Taylor was confused and he started feeling sick again, but tried to hold it back. "Mrs. Casey and I have decided it best for her not to keep in touch with you." Choking back the nasuea Taylor became even more confused, it didn't come through. Why wouldn't they want her to talk to me? "Why?" He asked again. "Just don't call here anymore, okay?" What was all of this about? It didn't make since. "What are you talking about?" Taylor asked. "Look, we don't want our daughter to get involved with a piece of trash like you. Got it? Don't call here anymore. Do you understand that? Or is your mind too messed up to even comprihend that much? I don't care what you do with your life, as long as none of it involves me daughter. Okay?" Mr. Casey yelled into the phone then slammed it down into the holder. Taylor was stunned. He held the phone in his hand, not moving. Now he was trying to conceal both his tears and his stomach. Finally after more than five minutes passed by he gently lay the phone into the holder. Gagging he reached out for the trash can and was sick. This time he didn't stop. There was nothing left in him, what could possible come up? But he kept throwing up over and over, until he thought he would die before he stopped. Still it came. It was the worst fit of naseua ever, he thought he was going to die. He just knew all his insides would start coming up soon. After what seemed like days Taylor stopped and sucked air into his lungs. He couldn't breath during being sick and he felt like he had been suffocating. Breathing shakily he leaned back onto the bed to regain his strength. "Taylor, please let me in. Please.." It was his mom again. He needed someone now, he had been deserted by his only friends. His life was getting worse by the minute, and he needed to hold on to someone. To say it was okay. Crawling over to the door, he grabbed onto the door knob and pulled himself up. On shaky legs he stood, and un-locked the door to a very surprised mother. But before etheir one of them could say anything Tay collapsed back onto the floor in another fit of being sick. Right on the floor. Immediatly his mother knelt down beside him, and then she yelled to Walker to get something. He couldn't pay much attention to her, all his attention was drawn to trying to get himself to stop.

¤ ¤ ¤ He felt horrible. Every few hours he would be sick. At least he wasn't alone anymore and someone else could take care of him. Taylor lay on on a pallette on the floor with a bucket beside him and his mother watching over him. Trying to go to sleep wasn't even a possibility. Once he would even come close to drifting off, nasuea would over take him. So he just lay there with his eyes open. Watching his mother as she watched him. He knew that she had so many questions to ask him. He also knew that she would wait until he got better to even start asking. After thinking this, he thought to himself I'll never get better, I'm just going to puke myself to death. Taking a chance and closing his eyes, he let himself slide into sleep. Once he actually fell asleep he snapped awake to be sick.. yet again. The night was long, and for Taylor and his mom: sleepless. Once morning finally came Tay felt a little better and allowed himself to sleep. Which he actually did, without being awoken.

¤ ¤ ¤ Two days later Taylor had gotten over the bug, finally. He was back to his normal self and he kind of wished he wasn't. When he was sick, he didn't think about Isaac, or Zachary, or what Mr. Casey had said. But now, he was well, and now that was all he could seem to think about. When his parents had seen the room, and what he had done, they didn't punish him. Which was a huge surprise to Taylor. They just blamed it on 'whatever had been bothering him and made him run away'. They didn't know it, but they blamed it on the right thing. Instead of punishment they sat Tay down in the kitchen and made him tell them all about running away, and why, and what he did out there. He couldn't tell them why he had run away. He just couldn't. And that made his parents try even harder to get it out of him. But he would not tell them why. Sitting there after telling them all about his 'adventures' he had when he had run away, Tay waited to see what they would do. Usually he could guess what his parents would say or do. Not this time, he had no idea was going to happen next. Walker and Diana sat across from him. Looking at him, not saying a word. After a couple minutes, like they had broken out of a trance or something. Diana got up and walked over to her son, standing behind his chair she hugged him gently. Then she said "It's all right Taylor, everything's gonna be okay." Those were the words he had waited to hear. For so long. But for some reason it didn't sound right. When she said it, he was supposed to feel like everything would be okay. But he didn't, he felt the same. "It would just be so much easier to help you out if we knew why you had run away in the first place. And why you would want.... want to..." Walker got stuck on that word. He still couldn't believe that his son had tried to do that. When Taylor had said that it was like it wasn't really his son that had told him, it was someone elses kid. How could this be the same Taylor? The happy, little, bright Taylor? The Taylor that always tried to cheer everyone else up when they were deppressed? Not the other way 'round. What happened to the Taylor he knew? He remembered watching that son getting killed, the one that was full of joy. The first time he saw it was when he had grounded his son's so long ago. From then on he had just detereated in front of him. What happened? Now Taylor had become this small, deppressed boy who had tried to kill himself. And it seemed to Walker that the only place his son, Taylor, knew where to turn to was Amanda. Not to his parents like he should. What happened? He couldn't figure it out. Why did he do all this? What happened to Taylor? No answer would come. And Taylor didn't help any. For some reason he wouldn't tell them why he had run away, or why he had tried to comitte suicide. Why was he hiding it from them? Sighing Walker pushed the thoughts aside so he could finish saying what he had started. "We could help you Taylor, if you just told us why you would want to run away.. and...and.. comitte suicide." Sitting there for a few minutes just feeling his mother's soft and pretecting arms around his neck, Taylor thought a minute about telling them, but that thought disapeared as fast as it had come. "I can't really tell you, dad. Haven't I already said that?" "But we want to help you." "I know.... I know you do, But if I told you, it would only make things worse." "How so?" His mother asked. "It just would okay?" After a couple more hours of talking Taylor finally made his way back to his room. His brother's weren't in there. So he sat on his bed. His thoughts drifting. Again he replayed the conversation with Mr. Casey in his head. I'm not really as bad as that am I? Not really trash...but he doesn't know how much she means to me. Without her.. I wouldn't be alive. But maybe I shouldn't be alive...even if I should've killed myself, I didn't. And she ket me alive, she would listen to me, hold me, tell me everything is okay. Even if it wasn't okay, she still tried... that kept me alive. Does he even know how great of a person she is? She is my support. That is what she is. The support for my life. Maybe I am trash and I don't deserve to have someone save me like that. His deppresion grew, looking into his hands Taylor sat on his bed, degrading himself with every thought. Convincing himself that what Amanda's dad said was true, he was trash. Convincing himself that he didn't deserve a gaurdian angel like her. He didn't deserve a gaurdian at all. He didn't deserve anything he got. Maybe this was his punishment, for his brother's to kill him slowly with this thing that they were doing to him?


MORE MORE MORE

Email: bree_turner@juno.com