Teacher - Voyeur

Unwarranted jealousy hit me, but it faded just as quick. His confession had no place to cause jealousy. This was a man confessing his hardest pain—a man who had helped me through my issues the past few months. I could do the same for him.

All of a sudden, Daniel’s ability to handle my trauma almost better than anyone else around me made more sense. He hadn’t just loved and lost in a breakup. He’d met death and felt its pain just as I had. He understood.

“What about you?” Daniel asked, clearing his throat and changing the subject back to lighter topics. “Did you travel?”

I had to take a moment to collect myself and flow with the shift back to lighter topics. I wanted to ask a million questions, but I couldn’t imagine what it’d cost him to say those words aloud. And for all the times he didn’t push me, I wouldn’t push him.

“Not really. Both my parents are teachers, and three kids make traveling a little difficult. The trip to Florida was a big deal and mainly happened because Erik fronted a lot of the bill.”

“Were you mad he wasn’t there?” he asked softly, easing the subject to a more sensitive topic.

“No,” I answered easily. I hadn’t been mad at Erik at all, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t mad. Taking a deep breath, I admitted what I’d never admitted before—not even in therapy. Something about Daniel’s confession spurred my own. I’d locked it up and shoved it away in my box, unable to deal with it on top of everything else, worried that if I let it out, the anger would swallow me. “I’m mad at myself for pushing her to go out. I’m mad at myself for resenting being her twin for months leading up to being taken.” Another deep breath, letting the hardest confession slip out on the exhale. “I’m mad she didn’t hold on for a few more hours. Erik showed up the next day, and she was gone.” The breeze cooled the wet tracks slipping down my cheeks, and I wiped them away with shaky hands.

After a moment, Daniel’s hand slipped over mine before he made his own confession. “I’m mad she killed herself. I’m mad at myself because I didn’t see it coming. I’m mad I couldn’t stop her.”

Shifting, I curled my hand around his and held on tight, letting our confessions linger and hoped they faded away now that they were free.

“I have an idea,” Daniel said. He stood and pulled me up with him. He tugged me to the very edge, with layers of rock and steep cliffs stretching below.

I watched him, unsure of his plan. He stood tall, looked out over the vast stretch of the Smokey Mountains, sucked in air, and yelled. I jerked but didn’t let go of his hand. His yell vibrated off the cliffs, riling the birds, their wings flapping in the trees. When he was done with that yell, he did it again. Guttural and flooded with the rage he must have felt inside him. The power of it hit me like a thunderstorm, and I ached for all he had been holding inside.

When he’d finally stopped, his chest rose and fell over panting breaths, and he turned to me, looking lighter than when we first stood. “Your turn.”

“What? M-my turn?”

“Come on, Hanna. Let it out. I know it’s in you like it sat in me. Let it out.”

Swallowing, I faced the vast view. Licking my lips, I opened my mouth and yelled—kind of.

“Nice squeak, I think you scared a caterpillar.”

I glared and squared my shoulders.

I didn’t have to yell. I didn’t have to do anything.

I didn’t have to open my box for him.

It didn’t matter anyway.

Shouting at a bunch of trees wouldn’t stop the guilt—the anger. Nothing could absolve me of being pissed at my sister for dying—for leaving me alone when we were supposed to do this forever. Together.

She left me.

She fucking left me, and I hated her for it.

And I hated myself for feeling that.

My chest shuddered, and I realized I was crying—sobbing.

It was too much. Too big. I’d opened the box, and it was swallowing me.

“Let it out,” he whispered.

I sucked in as hard as I could, and I screamed. It tore from my lungs, scraped through my throat, ripped from my soul. My body shook, my eyes stung with the force of my rage.

I hunched over, expressing every last inch of it, squeezing it free.

And when I finished, I did it again.

And again.

Until Daniel joined me, and we screamed together.

For the first time, in front of something so big—so vast, my anger looked small—small enough to handle, small enough to set free.

I let nature take it.

We both did.

When I had nothing left to give, I panted, trying to calm the tears that had slipped free with everything else.