Jakob twirled the wooden stick in his hands. The object's use, though foreign to him, was still one he cherished. What humans would give to turn back time, to take back words.
He leaned his head back and sighed a deep from-the-bottom-of-your-soul sigh. The words came back in a rush.
'The doctors think you'll be ready in a couple days, Zac.'
'Ready for what?'
'To come back to Seymour of course.'
He could hear, Zac's head shaking from side to side. 'No.'
'You're going to take a leave of absence?'
'No.' He stalled for a second and took a deep breath, 'I'm not coming back.'
Jakob had been numbed for a second, 'Not coming back this year... or,' he took a deep breath, 'Never?'
He had to strain to hear the reply, 'Never.'
'Want to tell me why?'
'No.'
'Going to tell Doreen why?'
'No.'
'Going to tell…'
'NO!'
The outburst made him jump.
'God, I can't keep doing this! If I didn't pick on my brother's in the first place, I wouldn't have been blind the first time! And if I'd just left Seymour when I was seeing again, I could have avoided being blind the second time! I'm not going through this again!'
'Why?'
Zac sighed heavily, and Jakob could feel the wariness. The bone tiredness that only Zac would suffer. He whispered softly, 'Sometimes I feel like I don't want to fight... give in to the given, and put out the light.'
Jakob had walked out then. He couldn't take it anymore himself and went back to Seymour in their school van.
Hiding out in the closet that Zac always went to when he was overwhelmed, he took out the drumstick and twirled it between his fingers. Trying like hell to calm down for the moment.
He can't give up. Can't give up. He thought tiredly, his mind exhausted from the extreme usage of it.
