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Authors: Terry Trueman

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BOOK: Inside Out
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“After …” I say.

“After?” Alan asks. “After what?”

I pause a second. “After I tried to kill myself. After that I
knew
I was sick. I'm really hungry, Alan. Can't we go get a maple bar from out front?”

18

Letter from Ms. Emily Wahhsted to Dr. Cal Curtis:

Zach just said, “I'm gonna shoot myself, Mom,” but before he could get his mouth back down to the gun, I took the rifle away.

“But Mom,” Zach said again, “I'm gonna shoot myself.”

“Not today, honey,” I said, and then I burst into tears.

Alan and Joey both stare at me. People get real quiet when they hear about suicide. Maybe Alan and Joey are freaked out.

Alan asks, “
You
really tried to kill yourself?”

“Yeah,” I answer.

Joey says, “You tried to kill yourself? What'd you do, screw that up too?”

Alan gives Joey a shove. “Shut up, asshole!”

I say, “I did try, Joey, really. I was gonna shoot myself, but my mom got home and wouldn't let me.”

Joey laughs and says, “What'd you do, ask her permission?”

I answer, “No, she just got home.”

Alan shakes his head. I know lots of times people don't say what they're thinking. But Alan's face looks so sad, even I can tell that he feels bad for me, like my mom did when she saw me with the gun that day.

“Christ, Zach,” Alan says, his voice kind of shaky, “why'd you wanna do that?” He stops. “I mean … how bad can it be?”

I don't know what to say.

Joey is quiet too.

I finally say, mostly just because I think I should say
something
, “It's okay, Alan, don't worry.”

Alan says, “I'm sorry, Zach. I guess you got it pretty bad, man. Are you ever going to get better?”

I remember what Dr. Curt has told me about my brain and my illness. I answer Alan truthfully. “No, probably not, but it's okay, Alan.”

I wish I could explain to Alan and Joey about going to the hospital that afternoon after I tried to kill myself. I can't find the right words, but I still remember it. It seemed like a long ride back to Clearwater. Mom drove us down Highway 195 southbound, driving fast. I kept thinking that if I just opened the door of the car and dove out onto my head, I'd die for sure; then everything would just be over, no more Dirtbag and Rat, no more confusion, no more—anything. I watched the pavement race by, staring at the white lane-bump markers as they flickered past. After a while, I realized that I hadn't heard the new voices since I'd started to pull the trigger—it was like Dirtbag and Rat knew that if I died, they wouldn't get to torture me anymore. I smiled at that thought, and right then Mom happened to look over at me.

“You okay, Zach?”

“I don't know.”

“Are the voices bothering you?”

“No. I'm just thinking about the white dots and dying.”

Mom said, “I know, honey. Dr. Curtis is going to talk to us about all this, okay? He's going to help us.”

“Okay,” I said.

I didn't even feel sad or upset that I hadn't been able to kill myself right; it didn't even matter to me. Neither of us said anything else all the rest of the way to Clearwater.

I won't tell Alan and Joey any more about it, though. Alan seems bummed enough as it is. He looks like he's about ready to kill
himself
just thinking how bad it would be to be me.

Alan says, “I'm sorry, Zach. Sorry you're so screwed up. You're a nice guy—it's too bad.” He says this without looking at me, staring at the ground. Joey stares at the ground too. I think he'd almost like to say something, but he can't. I know it's hard for Joey to say anything nice to me; he reminds me of kids from school, who are scared to treat me different than their friends treat me, so they're mean. I never know what to say to those kids. I don't know what to say to Joey either.

I finally say to Alan, “I'm not messed up like that anymore, Alan.” I pause and think about it. “At least, I don't want to kill myself today; I don't want to die right now.”

Alan says, “That's good, Zach. You're doin' better now, huh?”

Joey interrupts. “Everybody dies someday—most people whether they want to or not, you know? At least Zach still has a choice—not like Mom. It's stupid for him to kill himself when he doesn't have to die.”

Alan just looks at Joey. “Maybe,” Alan says, “but maybe Zach doesn't have any more choice than Mom does about being sick.”

Listening to Alan, I remember more about being back in the hospital that second time. I remember Dr. Curt talked to me about the new voices, helping me to understand about Dirtbag and Rat, the meanest bastards anywhere.

“These new, mean voices might come after you again—especially if you don't take your medicine. But if you're brave enough, Zach, you can fight them. You probably can't destroy them, but you can refuse to let them destroy you.”

Dr. Curt's a nice guy, but he doesn't know everything. He doesn't know how bad Dirtbag and Rat can be, and I know that there's only one thing that's going to get rid of them for good! Only one thing that …


Long gone … long gone … long gone …

The phone rings and it's the cops. Alan talks to them. Actually he listens; all he says is “Good.” Then he hangs up.

He turns to Joey and me and says, “Dr. Curtis is on his way.”

Clearwater Hospital is about eighteen miles south of Spokane, so it's taking Dr. Curt a while to get here. I'm worried. I look at my watch. It's five oh three. I'm an hour and a half late for my medicine. I'm scared of Dirtbag and Rat. I need to think about something else—anything else.

“I have an idea,” I say to Alan and Joey. “Do you guys think if we snuck out the back door real quietly, we could just get out of here? I could get my medicine and you wouldn't have to worry about jail and—”

Alan interrupts. “What?”

I ask again, “Could we just sneak out the back door and—”

Alan interrupts again. “What back door?”

I point to the closet and say, “The one in there.”

Alan quickly goes over and opens the door to the little back room. He peeks inside.

“Jesus, Joey,” Alan whispers excitedly. “There's a back way outa here!”

Joey says, “You kidding me?”

Alan answers, “No, for real, look at this!”

Joey hurries over and looks into the back room too.

Alan says, “Maybe the cops don't know about this. Maybe we can make a run for it.”

I blurt out, “A run for your money …” although I'm not even sure what I mean or why I say it.

My head is starting to hurt real bad. It's a feeling I know too well.

But Alan smiles at me and says, “A run for our money, yeah.”

19

Clinical note from Dr. Cal Curtis: Zachary Wahhsted's second hospitalization at Clearwater State Hospital:

Patient is depressed and upset. The two new voices “attacking” him are very difficult for him to deal with. They are cruel and hateful.

Diagnostic impression: A second psychotic break occurring so soon after the first with these suicidal impulses shows a severe psychosis. Zach's illness will be extraordinarily dangerous when stress and/or interruptions to his regular medication regimen occur.


Long gone long gone long gone longgonelonggonelonggone
.”

Everything begins to swirl—a terrible pain shoots across my forehead.

They're here.


Hey, Wasteoid, time to die
,” Dirtbag whispers.

Rat laughs and screams, “
Yeah, time to die, Wasteoid!

Alan grabs me and pulls me toward the back door. Dirtbag and Rat circle me, whispering and screaming into my ears.


Time to die, Wasteoid!


Time to die!! Time to die!!

“Are you ready, Zach?”

I nod. Talking hurts too much.

We start out the back door, Alan first, now me, and Joey last, all of us bunched together. Alan and Joey are carrying their guns, holding them up like they could really shoot. The alley is dark.

Alan whispers, “We'll move slowly until we know it's okay.”


You'll die slowly
.”


Yes, finally! Die, die, die!!

“If it's safe, if there aren't any cops, we'll run.”


You can't run—you need to die!


Yes, yes!

“It'll be all right if we stick together. The cops don't know who is who …”


Kill the wasteoid, kill him good....

“… so even if they see us, they won't shoot....”


Shoot the wasteoid, finally, YES …

“Just stay close together....”

Dirtbag says in his horrible voice, “
You know what we need here?

Rat screams, “
Blood, blood, we need wasteoid blood!

As we take our next steps into the dark alley, I can barely open my eyes. The world is all black and red, and I feel sick.


DIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIE
.”


YOU NEED TO DIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIE
.”

Dirtbag says softly, “
You
know
you are worthless, Wasteoid. You
know
you are nothing, worm shit, a dead nothing—less than nothing, you are shit—you
gotta
end it all.

Rat laughs, screaming, “
Yes, yes, yes … end it all!

Right now, this second, I
want
to end it all, once and for all, end it all. My body feels like it's on fire. I force my eyes open and see my reflection in the window of the door—flames lick my face, and my eyeballs melt down my cheeks—I quickly close my eyes again. When I force them open and look back at Joey, slimy bugs crawl out of his nose and ears, and when he opens his mouth to scream, his lips peel back and start to swallow him....

My head feels like it's cracking in two. God, make it stop!

I shake all over, trying to catch a breath. Sweat pours from under my arms and down my chest and back. My tongue is thick. I hear nothing but the voices of Dirtbag and Rat. I'm like a bug stuck on a pin.

“Stop there!” a voice yells at us from out of the darkness.

I look up and see a man dressed in black. He's holding a rifle. Is he Dirtbag? Rat? I've never seen them before! Maybe they're not just voices. My god, maybe they're real!

“Halt!” the voice yells again.

Now another figure comes around the corner of the building, also dressed in black, his rifle at his shoulder. He yells, “Backup, position two!”

Alan and Joey swing around quickly and race back toward the coffee shop.

“Halt!”


Kill them, slaughter them all!


Kill them! Kill them!!

Alan and Joey race back through the door. I am alone. My head feels like it's splitting open.


Kill him … KILL HIM!


KILL HIM!

“Freeze or I'll shoot!”


Shoot!

“Wait, is he the hostage boy or one of the perps?”


Who cares, shoot him.... Kill him!!

“I don't know!”


Kill him NOW!!

“Does he have a weapon?”

“I can't tell!”

“Hold your fire!”


NO!!! FIRE, FIRE!!!!!

I think, yes, please, fire. Once and for all, please fire.


FIRE, FIRE, FIRE …

A second later someone grabs my shirt and pulls me from behind. Dirtbag and Rat are ripping me down to hell. I'm too weak to fight. I stumble backward, letting myself go.

There's a sharp cracking sound, and a bright blast of red and blue.... I hear someone cry out in pain.

My eyes are still closed tight. I can't tell
where
I am.

Now I'm falling into a chair. My head hurts so bad that I think it might explode for real.

When Dirtbag and Rat have me like this, all I can do is to hold on and wait for them to go away.... But I'm afraid that one day maybe they won't leave.

“Zach.” I hear a voice calling to me. “Zach,” the voice says again. I force open my eyes, squinting to keep the pain away. I see Alan's face.

BOOK: Inside Out
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