I Fell in Love with Hope - Lancali

Then, I sprint.
I slam the door open. Neo isn’t in his bed. The room is bare in
darkness, sheets undone, cast aside. There are no torn books or
pages. Only the tray I’ve come to memorize the weight of sits upside
down on the tiles, discarded, like the day Neo flipped it over in his
anger. Only now, it’s empty.
Retching breaths and light peek under the bathroom door. I go to it,
dread in my throat. On the other side, a boy sits, a fraction of
himself.
Neo’s back slams against the wall, vomit staining the edge of his
mouth.
Tears fall from bloodshot eyes, the realization dropping in his chest,
sending spasms through his chest.
It was never supposed to go this far.
He pulls at his hair. The heels of his palms cover his eyes. He bangs
his head and pushes himself into the wall like he wants to become a
part of it. Like he wants to disappear.
Vulnerability craves isolation. Desperation weeps in it.
He fights at first. When I kneel to his level, he pushes me away with
clenched fists, whining. I don’t say anything. I give him my arms and
my quiet and hope that’s enough to coax his fear away. I hope it’s
enough as he collapses and cries into my shoulder.
“I hate him. I hate him so much,” he says, heaving for air. My palm
drags over his spine, drawing slow rhythms to guide his breaths.
“He loves me because he has to,” Neo cries. “That’s worse than
hating someone. He knows I’ll never be who he wants me to be. He
knows I’d rather die here than be who he wants me to be. I’m no one
in that house. I have nothing there!”