i said what you wanted to hear
and what i wanted to say
so i will take it back
are all the dishes intact?
let them be broken

it's easy to be
easy and free
when it doesn't mean anything
you remain selfless, cold, and composed

you've done me no favor to call and be nice
telling me i
can take anything i like
you don't have to be so polite

The sound of heavy breathing filled the air. Pacey's mother quietly closed the door to his room. He was finally sleeping and now she could rest. They could all rest.

you've done no wrong
you've done no wrong
get out of my sight

Pacey sat up. He had only been pretending to sleep. There was no way he could sleep, not after all that had just happened. He was too restless, too anxious, too angry to even think about sleep.

How dare they? How dare they get angry at him for not caring? It wasn't like he had tried to kill them. No, he had tried to kill himself. Something he should have done a long time ago.

Should I try again? he thought. No, not now. Later. It would be cruel to do it right now. To leave his parents in the middle of the night, without a good-bye, without a hug, or a smile. He knew it was selfish, but he didn't care. He needed at least one more moment with them before he left. One last heart-to-heart with his father. One last comforting hug from his mother. Then he could go.

Staring blankly into space, he thought of Dawson and Joey. They thought they were so perfect. What gave them the right to guilt him when he was feeling so low? It had been such a fun, carefree night and Dawson had to ruin it.

Of course, he was showing off to Joey. Trying to be the "good friend." Trying to understand the pain. He could never understand. Dawson's world was too wonderful, too black and white.

If only he could take off those blinders that he wore, that prevented him from seeing the evil in the world. Pacey knew that evil. God, he had been fucked by that evil.

Sure, his father promised justice. But that wasn't good enough. Pacey wanted Mr. Bristol's head on a platter. He wanted to have ripped it off himself. He wanted violent, bloody, disgusting revenge. Not the knowledge that he was behind bars. That didn't help at all.

it's easy to be
easy and free
when it doesn't mean anything
you remain
selfless, cold, and composed

Whispers followed him through the halls. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder, a thick binder of homework in his hands. Pacey walked, chin up, shoulders back, looking straight ahead.

No one dared speak to him. Even Grant Bodine turned his head when Pacey passed him. All of them were in absolute awe. Not of his strength, or his courage, but of his nerve.

They watched him reach his vandalized locker, unfazed. "Very original," he said, turning around. "Didn't someone spray-paint 'faggot' on Jack's locker last year?"

He smirked and spun the combination on his lock. Everyone was watching him. They had expected tearful shock, or some sort of insane explosion. But he only seemed disappointed at their lack of originality.

Dawson approached Pacey, slightly afraid, feeling completely sorry for Pacey. If he had seen the paint sooner he would have removed it before Pacey got to school. He watched Pacey pretend to be strong, when he saw the tears brimming in his friend's eyes.

"Hi, Pacey," he said quietly. Pacey turned to him with a stony expression on his face, his eyes revealing his true feelings.

"What do you want?"

"I want to apologize. I was completely out of line and I'm sorry."

"Right. Now I feel much better. Thanks, Dawson."

Dawson flinched when Pacey slammed his locker door. A scowl etched on his face, he brushed past Dawson and walked steadily towards his class.

come on baby
now throw me a right to the chin
don't just stare like you never cared
i know you did

you just smiled
like a bank teller
telling me blankly
have a nice life

Pacey tried his hardest not to cry. He didn't even realize what classroom he was in until half the class had already arrived. Now would not be the best time to make a graceful exit. They would all see how weak he was. And that equaled failure.

"Hi, Pacey," Andie said cheerfully. "How are you feeling?" Pacey turned to her. With a disgusted look on his face he shuddered and looked away.

"Where's the love, Pacey? You don't like me anymore?"

"No, Andie. I hate you." His voice was filled with contempt and bitterness and cut through her like a knife. She was surprised at how straightforward he was being. But being in the position once herself, she knew he was faking.

"Just keep telling yourself that, Pacey."

Without a word, he got up and walked towards the teacher's desk. Andie couldn't hear what he was saying, but saw the teacher look at her once and nod.

"Ms. McPhee, would you please find another seat." Andie's mouth formed an O of surprise, but did as she was told.

Pacey smiled coldly as she moved to the other side of the room. Being near her in one of the most horrible places in the world was just too much for him to handle.

The class was drawing to a close and Pacey didn't think he could stand much more. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. Every memory had flooded back, so vividly. He swore he could see the remains of tape on the chalkboard.

Finally, the bell rang and Pacey was the first one out the door. He could barely breathe, he knew he had to leave. Instead of going to his next class, he headed in the direction of the office. They would send him home no questions asked.

come on baby
and throw me a right to the chin
just one sign that could
show me that you give a shit

but you just smile politely
and i grow weaker and i
said what you wanted to hear
and what i wanted to say
so i will take it back

On his way, eyes on the floor, he crashed into another person. "Woah, want to watch where you're going, fag?"

Pacey looked up to see Grant staring angrily at Pacey. "What did you call me?"

"I called you a fag."

Eyes burning, chest aching, Pacey swung at Grant with every amount of force he could muster. He felt his fist connect squarely with Grant's chin and watched as he hit the ground. It all seemed to happen in slow motion.

Grant rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. "You son of a bitch." Pacey stood with his legs shoulder's width apart, his chest heaving with anger. Grant pushed himself up off the ground. "You're going to pay for that cheap shot, Witter."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, really," he replied cocking his arm back. But Pacey was too quick. He ducked and slammed his body into Grant's stomach, knocking him to the ground. They struggled and kicked on the floor. Both grunting and letting out cries of surprise and pain every few seconds.

In a few moments, someone peeked their head out of a classroom and saw them. The person ducked back inside and a teacher emerged a second later. Another teacher followed suit and pretty soon four people were trying to tear Pacey and Grant apart.

Pacey struggled against Dr. Rand and Principal Green, who were holding him back. "Let me go!" he cried.

"Mr. Witter, get a hold of yourself!" Principal Green ordered. Grant was motionless, the teachers had released their grip on him, he had a smug smile on his face.

None of this motivated Pacey to stop. "Let me at that fucking son of a bitch!"

"Watch your language, Pacey," the principal warned. "You two are already in deep trouble."

"Why the hell am I in trouble?! He fucking started it!"

"Mr. Witter, do not make me repeat myself."

"I don't care if you have to repeat yourself! He ... this is all his fault!"

"What are you talking about? You punched me. Man, you really are crazy."

"That's it," Pacey muttered and broke free. He lunged at Grant, again knocking him to the ground. He didn't have a chance to hit him though, because all four teachers picked him up and dragged him off.

"Pacey, we'll do this in my office. Grant, get to class. You can report to me later for your detention sentence." Grant shook his head, but obeyed.

it's easy to be
easy and free
when it doesn't mean anything
you can remain
selfless, cold, and composed

"All right, Pacey, I'm going to give you a chance to explain yourself. There's only a few rules," Principal Green started. "Number one, no cursing. Number two, you must remain calm. If I have to call in a teacher to restrain you, Pacey, I..."

"I get it!"

Principal Green sat back in his chair and sighed. He took a deep breath. "Fine, then please, explain away."

"There's nothing to explain. He deserved it."

"Did he do anything to you, Pacey? Did he say something to make you hit him?"

"Yeah, but that's none of your business."

"Oh, I believe it is."

"Well, you're wrong."

"What did he say?"

"I'm not telling you."

"I'm not giving you a choice."

"Too bad you can't control what I say."

"I know someone who can."

"Who's that?"

"Your father. I can call him right now. I'm sure he wouldn't mind coming down here to have a little chat with us."

"He won't make me do anything."

"And why do you say that?"

"Because he thinks I'm nuts."

"No, he doesn't."

"How would you know?! You don't live with him! You don't have to pretend to be happy when he comes in your room every fucking second to see if you're okay! You don't have to pretend to go to sleep just so your parents will leave you the hell alone! You don't have to pretend you don't hear them talking about sending you away! Talking about how much worse you're getting! You don't know anything!"

Pacey covered his face with his hands and began to sob. It was taking too much out of him, these outbursts. He felt like he was always running on empty and that got tough after a while.

"Please, I just want to go home," he whispered.

"I'll call your parents."

***

The room was quiet. For the first time in weeks, Pacey's thoughts were quiet, too. The day had been horrendous, one horrible encounter after another. He had to try and control himself more, if he was going to fool everyone.

Dawson had called. Twice. Pacey didn't want to talk to anyone. He screamed at his parents every time they came into the room. Nothing could cheer him up or make him feel better about the events of the day. Certainly not his mother's weeping or his father's attempt at being the overprotective father. It just didn't feel right. Nothing did.

Pacey was beginning to question his parents' source of sympathy. Why, all of a sudden, had they begun to baby him? Yes, they were obligated to do so, after all, he had been raped. He had been hurt before and they had never responded this way. In fact, the most popular phrase during those tough times was, "Suck it up."

Now his father would wander into his room at all times of the day, asking a thousand "how are you feeling?" questions, giving him hugs, and letting him cry. This couldn't be the same man who had slapped him around all his life. It was just too good to be true and he wanted the gap to widen between them again. He wanted everything to go back to the way it was.

i said what you wanted to hear
and what i wanted to say
so i will take it back
are all the dishes in tact?
let them be broken

"I don't want to send him away, Marion," John Witter argued. "He'll be fine."

Marion Witter sighed and placed her head in her hands. There was just no reasoning with her husband. It was obvious Pacey was in deep trouble. She caught him studying his wrists, comparing the size of their collection of kitchen knives. Right now she hated that she lived in a family of police officers. It would be so easy for him to try again.

"John, don't you want him to get better?" she cried. "Do you want him to do that to us again?" He didn't respond. "Do you?!"

"Of course not! I want him to be okay. But I want to be there to help him, Marion, not send him off to some asylum where I can't see him. Where I won't know if he's getting better or not," he said softly.

"We can do an outpatient program in Providence. He'll only have to stay there for a few hours out of the day."

"I don't care, I want to be with him."

"That's not possible no matter what we decide to do," she continued. "You know that, I know that, he knows that. Can't we just try?"

"Sure, fine, okay, let's do that. Fine, sounds fantastic."

"John..."

"No, you're absolutely right. He's crazy. He needs to be in a mental hospital. Let's just shove him out the door and point him in the right direction."

"That's not what I'm suggesting, John! I only want him to see someone, to get better. Will you stop acting like this?"

Neither of them could know that Pacey was listening to them. He was sitting on the stairs near the kitchen. They wanted to put him in a hospital. One like Andie had been in.

But I'm not crazy, he thought. I'm really not.

Tears were sliding slowly down his cheeks. He no longer wanted to follow through with his plan. To make them hate him again. To be cold and pretend that it didn't matter anymore. Because it did.

He stood and stepped quietly down the stairs. They didn't hear him at first, over their shouting. He just stood silently in the door frame, waiting to be noticed. They didn't look over at him, they were too involved in each other.

"Mom," he said softly. She looked up and he saw the regret in her eyes. She didn't want to send him away. She just didn't know what to do.

"It's okay. I want to get better, too."

Like it? Hate it? Think I'm a sicko? Feedback at [email protected]

Part 7

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