Dylan Stitcher: A Car Ride V and August 15th

CW for discussion of suicide

Late night on Saturday night, Dylan and Austin are parked in Austin’s car at their usual spot on top of Cochrun Peak National Park. The city lights down below glow through a layer of fog as a slight drizzle comes down over the island. In the car, the radio plays quietly in the background as Austin argues with Dylan.

“I don’t care what you think or what you have to say” bemoaned Austin, “Season 3 was the best by far.”
“But the character development in Season 4 was-“

“Season 4 my ass! That season almost killed it the show.”

“You’re just upset that Courtney chose Glenn.”

“Yeah, I am! She can go to hell for all-” Austin tried to be serious with this response, but even he could recognize how ridiculous this was getting and started laughing. “What the hell are we doing?”

Dylan, through a few laughs of his own, put his hand on his chin to look like he’s thinking. “Hm, well, you’re screaming about a show that ended in the 90s and I’m sitting here watching this handsome guy make himself laugh.”

Austin turned his head around, looking out different windows of his car. “Where? Where is he? You think he’s single?” Dylan playfully slapped him in the arm. “But really, Season 3 is the best one.”

“Sure, Fran,”

Austin did a double take, “Don’t you ‘sure, Fran’ me!” Austin hastily grabbed Dylan by the shoulder of his jacket and pulled him toward, Dylan not putting up much of a fight. He pulled him right up to his face. “Listen here, you little marshmallow, no one says that to me and gets away with it.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Same thing I always do, you little-” Austin didn’t have to work him much here as Dylan was already pressing forward to kiss. After a few seconds, Austin pulls slightly away. “You know, I think you’re starting to do this on purpose.”

Dylan’s gasp was obvious. “Really? Me?” Austin let go of his jacket and they both settled back in their seats.

The night continued on, more discussion of things and flirting occasionally. At a point in the night, Dylan got a bit quiet. “Hey, so I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Go ahead.”

“Well, I do want to give a heads up, it’s kinda heavy. It’s something I talked about in my session this morning. If you’d prefer I do it some other time, that’s fine. I don’t-“

“Don’t do that. You know I’m always here for you.”

“Okay.” Dylan didn’t speak. He was trying to think, trying to find the words. Bit of a silence. “I” followed by more silence. Austin turned off the radio. “How do I even start this?”

“Well, how was the session? Maybe that’ll help?”

“Yeah, maybe. Might be easier. It was good, good. Got real heavy in it. Talked about things I wasn’t really sure if I was ready to talk about. Session did help me a bit with it and is probably going to keep being a big thing in it. Hm…I’ve been feeling good lately, feeling like things are better. She thinks its because I’m away from home and also because I’m here with you, which yeah, I think so.

You thought, when we got back to school from the summer, that something was up. Yeah. It was a lot, there was a lot. August was pretty bad- no, really bad. And…” Dylan went quiet again, trying to talk but struggling to find the word. “God, c’mon” he whispered under his breath. “I- I tried- I- I wasn’t happy. I was just surrounded by my family, all the sh*t they think and say, going back to the church, and it was bad. It was really bad, and I hated myself. I hated myself so badly. I-“

His throat became a little raspy. “I didn’t want to be here anymore,”

“Dylan-”

“So, I tried. I was just done with it and I tried. It didn’t work. I’m still here. I’m here. ” Dylan sniffled. “It’s hard to be here. I’m trying to still be here and it’s hard.” Dylan reached his hand over to Austin, who took it in his.

“Dylan, oh god, Dylan.” Austin reached over to him to grasp on to him. Dylan held onto him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m beyond thankful you’re still here.” Austin’s eyes watered up as he began to cry. “You’re an amazing person and you didn’t deserve any of that.” Dylan held on a little tighter and another sniffle came out.

“I’m sorry” Dylan replied. “I’m sorry”

“No, it’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Dylan felt ready to sit back in his seat but Austin wouldn’t let go, so Dylan let him keep hugging. “You’re still here and that shows how strong you are.”

“I’m not, though.”

“You are. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever known and you survived all that. I love you and I don’t ever want you to forget that.” It was that that finally made Dylan break down.

CW for description of a suicide attempt as well as a section in 2nd person narrative.

August 15, middle of the night. Everyone in the house was asleep except Dylan. There were a lot of things he could have thought of, through his point of view. He could have thought about how his family hates him and is disappointed in him. He could have thought about how he’ll never live up to the expectations his family had for him to be like his older brother, Jason. He could have thought about how little the family seems to talk about Jason and how they’ll never want to talk about Dylan again if he died. Why would they? Why should he be remembered?

He could have thought about how much the Church hates him, how much everyone hates him. He could have thought about how no one actually talks to him, because if they did then they would have nothing good to say. He knows that. He could have thought about how his old friends saw him, of how bad a person they know he is and how right they are. He could have thought about how easily he turned his back on the church by embracing the homosexual lifestyle, of how little faith he put into the church, how little effort he made to be a good person.

He could have thought about how the church’s program to cleanse him didn’t work, or maybe how much he sabotaged it. He could have thought about how much he loved sin and how much he hates his family if he so easily embraced homosexuality. Only people who hate their family would do that. He could have thought about how much he hated his grandmother where he was far more scared of his family finding out how bad of a person he is than he was sad about his grandmother dying. He could have thought about how evil he must be, how selfish he was that he put himself before everyone else, only caring about what he wanted even if it meant hurting everyone else. No wonder nobody like him. He did this to himself.

Or maybe he didn’t choose to turn his back. Maybe he didn’t choose to be such a selfish and horrible person. Maybe the program didn’t work because he wasn’t worthy of it. Maybe he wasn’t able to get better and come back to Jeb!. Maybe he was just broken and beyond repair. Maybe it didn’t work because this is what he deserved. Maybe he wasn’t even a real Jeb!ist after all. Only good people can feel the love of Jeb! and, if you can’t, maybe it’s because he doesn’t love you. How could he? How could he love such a horrid person? Maybe it’s because you can’t be loved.

Everyone knows that. If Jeb! can’t even love you, then imagine how much everyone must hate you. You’re here everyday forcing people to be near you and pretend they like you. They much feel so much relief when you’re gone and don’t have to pretend that they don’t hate you. Maybe it would be better if you just stop being a burden to everyone and just left. No one would have to care about you anymore and they could finally have good lives without you there. You can at least give them that.

Dylan could have thought about all of that, but not now. The only thing he was thinking about was when he’d finally go downstair. He had the key. His dad was pretty careless about where he put it. 1:12am was when he opened his bedroom door. It was quiet. Couldn’t even hear the bugs outside that night. Every step down the stairs should have woken up everyone. They were always so creaky, louder now than ever before. Maybe it did wake them up. Maybe they knew what he was doing, going down those stairs. No one came out their rooms, so maybe that was them giving their blessing, happy he’s finally made a choice.

The living room was dark. The only light in the room was the light on the cable box and what little could come through the windows that night. Dylan walked to the big glass case over on the side. His dad was proud of his collection but had to keep it locked up due to county laws. It was easy to unlock with the key, the lock barely holding the doors together. He probably could have just pulled hard on it and it’d open. Dylan opened the doors to the case and reached in, pulling out his dad’s shotgun.

It was cold in his hand and heavy. He knew how to use one as his dad used to take him hunting. There was a time his dad didn’t, but then started doing it again as part of the program to straighten Dylan up. He could barely see the gun, but he could make out the silhouette and knew which parts were which. He moved over to a recliner in the corner and sat down. He sat there for a while, took him some time before he could bring himself to raise it.

He turned off the safety and brought it to his mouth. It took some time for him to open his mouth until he did and put the barrel in it. His finger was fidgeting, sitting on the trigger. He remembered, in that moment, that people usually leave notes, saying why they did it, any last words. He considered, but thought, if he did that, he wouldn’t be able to go through with it again so he chose not to. The gun sat in his mouth, so long he was tired of the taste of metal. His mouth became dry from all the air going in and his jaw grew weary. It was 1:31am.

He pulled the trigger only to hear a click. His dad never kept ammo in his guns when he wasn’t using them. When Dylan heard it, he felt a drop in his stomach as relief enveloped him. The warmth of tears was felt coming down his cheeks as he softly whimpered. The gun fell from his hands and to the floor as realization came over him of what he just tried to do. He was so happy that he was still here.

At some point, he must have run out of tears. He put the gun back in the case and locked the doors to it. He went back upstairs and got into bed. He doesn’t remember going to sleep, just that he was awake at some point and then not.