My voice barely made it past my lips as I pushed open his door. The smell hit first: sour, sharp, unmistakable. Then I saw him. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, his knees pulled tight to his chest. Shirtless. Gray-skinned. Dried blood streaked his face where stitches should have been. His hair had been hacked unevenly, and clumps were scattered around him like he’d been trying to erase himself piece by piece.
And the knife… in his hand.
He didn’t look up. Didn’t blink. Just stared at the wall. I stepped closer, looking down at his hair in the carpet and the dried brown-red droplets beside it. My stomach rolled.
“Kyle.” My head was foggy, but I forced it clear. I’d done this to him. My failure as his mother. But there would be time to face that later. Right now, I have to save my son. “I know you’re hurting. I’m going to help you, but I need you to give me the knife.”
He lifted his eyes slowly, and the emptiness in them nearly dropped me to my knees. This wasn’t Kyle, not the kid who cracked jokes like a pro or tested boundaries just to see where they were. That boy was gone. In his place was someone who had seen too much and didn’t know how to handle it… because I hadn’t been there to show him how.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” he whispered.
“No, baby. I should’ve been here sooner.” I took a careful step closer. My voice shook. “You’re hurting yourself.”
He didn’t deny it. Just stared at me, vacant and worn down.
“I can’t,” he finally said. “I can’t keep doing it. It hurts too much.”
“I know.” I moved closer again. Every instinct in me wanted to grab him, but I didn’t know if I should, or if I’d just make it worse. “Tell me what hurts.”
“Everything. It’s everywhere.” He tapped the side of his head. “It’s loud in here. It doesn’t shut up.”
“What does it say?”
“That it should’ve been me,” he said. “That’s what you would’ve wanted.”
“Kyle, no—”
“Yes. You can’t deny it, Mom. Jake was—” He caught himself. “Isspecial. He was going to be somebody someday. I’m not going to be anything at all.”
Tears sprang to my eyes as I lowered myself slowly to the floor, close enough for him to know I was there but far enough not to trap him.
“Kyle,” I said. “That voice is lying to you. I would never want you hurt so someone else could be safe. Not ever.”
“Jake’s not someone else,” he said.
“No. And he’s not you.” I reached over and touched his cheek. “Remember what Jake said that day—the three things he loved about you? You’re loyal. You always put other people first. That doesn’t make you less.” I held his gaze. “It makes you rare.”
His eyes flickered, just a little.
“Baby, I’m so sorry. That night, the ambulance… you needed me.”
He burst into tears.
“You needed me, and I wasn’t there for you. And I made you think that somehow you carried the blame. That’s not true. Itwas cruel to put that on you. And I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Please let me help you. I love you so much.”
“I don’t want you. I don’t want anyone… except Jake.” His body shook. “I want to go be with him.”
His confession snapped something in me back into place. It was painful but necessary. “I want that too. More than I can say.” I held his gaze. “But we can’t. Because then someone else will feel this. And then someone else. And we’ll lose everyone.”
I drew in a steadying breath, clearing the fog. “I know I haven’t been there for you, but I’m here now. We’re going to do this together. You and me.”
He looked at me, and our eyes held for a long, fragile moment. I closed my fingers around the handle, slow, slow, waiting for the flinch that never came. The blade left his palm with a small, wet sound. He didn’t resist. Didn’t look at the knife. Just kept his eyes on mine—hollow, yes, but still here. Still my boy.
“We’re going to get through this,” I reassured him, reassured myself. “I don’t know how yet. But we will.”
He nodded. Trusting me. Remembering the mother I used to be, and maybe the one I could be again. I combed my fingers through his ruined hair. “What are we going to do about this?”
“Shave it off,” he said. “Start over.”
