A teenager has ended his life. He is the son of a local politician. He was loved by his friends and teachers. He was on the yearbook committee. Played trumpet in the school orchestra. Talked of studying animation after graduating next year. In the yearbook photo they show of him his hair is green, his braces shine, and his acne looks a rosy nuisance. The face of someone with so much life ahead of him, most of his whole life, and in this respect, not unlike Sunil.

Kavita springs for the remote control. Changes the channel. Flicks back. Changes the channel. Flicks back. Changes the channel.

She feels at war with the contrary push of needing to know how this could have happened to such a bright, young person, and the pull of wanting to remain ignorant. Her emotional side tells her: Look away, protect yourself. Her thinking side says: Look.

She flicks back to the newscast. The anchor explains that the boy’s family have decided to share their story to help educate the public about teen mental health. A pre-recorded clip begins to play. Kavita can’t pull her eyes away from the local politician, the boy’s mother, as she stands at the podium and reads a statement from a piece of paper that quivers in her hands. Her husband stands by her side, his head bowed, his eyes pinned to the floor, his mouth a firm line. One of his hands remains pressed securely against the politician’s lower back as if holding her upright.

She says they don’t want their son’s life, or death, to be in vain, which is why they have chosen to come forward, in the hopes of saving another child, another family, from the incredible pain and loss her family is experiencing now. Her voice quavers as she admits to not knowing about the bullying her son went through leading up to his death. Nor did she realize the toll it took on his mental health. She noticed recent a change in his mood, but like any mother of a teenage son, thought it must have been just another phase of adolescence. She was wrong.

If the stigma surrounding mental health didn’t exist, their son might have been more open with them about his struggles. They have started a foundation in his name to collect donations for youth treatment programs at The Royal and encourage others to contribute if they can. She finishes by saying thank you for the messages of support they have received. They ask for prayers, for their son most of all. They thank the public for respecting their need for privacy at this difficult time.

The newscast flips to the next story. Kavita shuts off the television. The story rouses her turbulent grief, that storm beneath her skin. She feels it spinning and building. Crying to cut to the surface. Crying to be heard.