He Screams

He screams. He screams out of hatred. He screams out of pain. He screams for death...

I open the door to find him. He sits alone in his room, on his bed, staring out his window. It is a good day for him. He does not shake like usual. Only a tremble in his hands. He turns to look at me, his eyes full of hope. He is waiting for someone. When he realizes it is just me, the hope dies. He turns back to his window. His dirty brown hair needs washing. His clothes need changing as well as his sheets. He has not left his room in days. Yet, there he sits. Still staring out his window. A darken lonely pain in his eye. He does not move.

If I did not know better I would think he was a statue, a sad statue. I ask if he is hungry. He has no response to offer. I tell him to take his pain medication. He does not move. I ask him if he wants to play a game. He will not answer. I walk closer to him. He does not stop me. I reach out to put a hand on his shoulder, forgetting how he will react. He screams in pain. He lies down on his bed writhing in agony. I beg him to forgive me but he just rocks back and forth, shocked with pain. I offer him the pain medication again but he refuses. He shouts at me to leave, so I do.

That night I prayed for him. I prayed for his relief. My sleep is filled to the brim with night terrors. I blot straight up to the sound of is screaming. I run to his door and knock softly. He does not answer. I open the door and speak his name. He is on the floor, huddled in a ball, whimpering like a puppy. I rush to his side and try to get him to tell me what happened. He does not speak but his whimpering is quieted. I lift him up off the ground. He yelps in pain and buries his face in my chest. I lay him down on his bed and cover him with blankets. I wait in a chair next to him until his breath slows to a steady pace. I kiss his forehead as softly as I can, then leave the room.

A single tear falls down my face but I force myself back to sleep. A few hours later I wake to his screaming again. This time I do not knock. I pace in without hesitation. Again he is huddled on the floor. I realize he has fallen off his bed in his sleep. He shakes uncontrollably. I sit down on the floor next to him and try to hush him. He looks up at me and utters four words, “End this now... please...” I pause, shocked that he would say anything, let alone... that. I shove the thought from my mind. I pull his mattress from his bed, sheets and all, and set it on the floor. I am sure he will be safer if he falls off it.

Again I pick him up and tuck him in. His breath slows. I leave the room. This time I do not go to bed. It is only an hour till sunrise anyway. I sit on the couch and turn on the news. I try to watch but my mind is somewhere else. Those four words run through my head over and over again, “End this now... please...” I know what he means. I refuse to accept it. Yet, I hear him say it over and over. I can't... but, why not? Morally it's not wrong. Worst that could happen is I could go to jail... maybe regret my decision forever...

Once more I hear him screaming. I can hear the pain in his voice. Before going to his room I go to the kitchen. From the drawer I pull the knife I use to cut vegetables. Then, I make my way to his room.

No longer will he be disappointed to see me. I know who he waiting for. This time, I will bring death along side me.