Page 130 of Run to Me

I can’t talk, Jake. I’m numb.

The darkness holds me hostage. Black bedding, black curtains, black pit of despair. Without Maisy, light ceases to exist. I cease to exist.

48

MAISY

“I’ve been expecting you.” I hold the screen door open as Javi, Trevor, Jake, and Tatum file into Pam’s kitchen.

My long cardigan stretches when I wrap it around me to hide the camisole and cotton shorts I slept in last night. Then I rejoin Pam at the table where I’ve been staring at a bowl of cold soup she made me an hour ago.

Tatum claims the seat beside me and draws me into a long hug, whispering reassurances in my ear that Jensen and I will both be okay and come out of this ordeal stronger. Jake and Trevor also gather around the table while Javi leans against the kitchen counter, his arms folded across the mandala pattern on his faded shirt.

Holding Javi’s tired gaze with my matching one, I say, “You blame me.”

“When you first returned to Walford, I did,” he admits.

“Join the club. I’ve kept Jensen’s secrets for years, so it’s easy to blame myself.”

“What secrets?” Jake asks. When I hesitate to respond, chewing my lip, he says, “Maisy, we can’t help him if we don’t know where to start.”

Cue the never-ending waterworks of late as tears well in my eyes. “It feels like I’m betraying his trust.”

“It’s the only way,” Javi says. “You have the answers. You can help us help him.”

Their exhausted faces snuff out what little sparks of hope I have for Jensen’s mental state improving with each passing day. Pam gives me a subtle nod in support. She stayed up with me last night, listening as I spilled every detail about what happened with Jensen. I told her our entire history while crying in her arms.

Pressing my fingers to my forehead to fend off the ache, I begin. “He, uh…he struggles with managing stress. I guess that’s the simplest explanation. When he can’t cope with the stress, he thinks he’s a failure. He blames himself. Punishes himself.”

I tell them everything I’ve witnessed and what Jensen told me directly. How his thoughts spin out of control, and he becomes self-deprecating and destructive. How he pulls his hair out when he’s on edge, though he’s better at controlling the urge now. I confess to helping him discover weightlifting as an outlet to redirect the negative energy when he’s overwhelmed. I confess all, and I’m a trembling mess of guilt when I finish. Reciting everything again reminds me I didn’t do enough to help him from the start.

Jake leans forward, elbows planted on his knees, as he soaks in my every word with rapt interest and deep concern. “That’s a lot for you to deal with alone, Maisy. You were a kid. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“He trusted me. Your dad knew how to calm him down, but Jensen sought me out more and more after I first helped him. Then your parents died, and he relied on me alone. I thought I could manage, but it was hard sometimes, like the episode during his senior year. He was completely unhinged, and that was the only time I didn’t think I could pull him back.”

I’ll never forget that day. Jensen called me, ranting and cursing at himself for being a “stupid fucking loser.” The rant seemed to go on for hours, and he wouldn’t listen to anything I said to calm him down. He pleaded for my help, but I had no way to get to his house. This was after his parents died, so he was home alone while Jake was with friends. Jensen kept threatening to come to me, but he was in no state to drive. With no other options, I began singing into the phone, which caught him by surprise. In the end, he was laughing because I’m a terrible singer.

“Do you remember what set him off?” Javi asks, finally taking a seat.

“He got detention for snapping at his English teacher after he failed an essay test. A triple whammy.”

“Triple?” Trevor pauses his ten-finger assault on the keyboard. When I squint in suspicion at his open laptop, he explains, “I’m taking notes.”

I count on my fingers. “Detention. Being disrespectful. Failing.”

“What’s the connection?” Tatum asks. She’s been gripping my hand this whole time, or I’ve been gripping hers.

“They could all lead to disappointment, and he doesn’t like to disappoint anyone. It’s too much for him to handle.”

“Because he’s a perfectionist and a people pleaser,” Jake surmises.

“I’m pretty sure we all know that’s putting things mildly,” I say. A longer look at Jake’s shadowed eyes and creased brow makes me realize how worried he is for his brother. He’s likely feeling a tremendous amount of guilt as well. “Are you mad at me, Jake?”

Sighing heavily, he says, “No. I’m mad at myself for not noticing anything was wrong. I know he gets worked up when things aren’t going right, but I didn’t know his issues ran this deep.”

“He hides it well.” Pam joins the conversation, her soft voice a balm to our somber mood as she looks us each in the eye. “None of you have done anything wrong, and you aren’t to blame for any of this. What matters is that you work together to support him and encourage him to get help.”

Everyone agrees with parts of her statement, more or less. Then we fall into quiet rumination, each gaze around the table aimless, contemplative. Jake plucks his bottom lip, Javi rubs a hand along his buzzed head, and Trevor stares at a spot on the ceiling. They’re likely replaying past incidents or interactions with Jensen and wondering how they missed the signs, what they could’ve done differently, and if they’re to blame in any way.