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Back The Infinite Noise Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  69. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  70. Newsletter Sign-up

Then again, will I ever get to that point with anyone? What does that look like? Do my parents tell each other about all their ugly, self-loathing thoughts, the times when even taking a sip of water feels like climbing Mount Everest, the feeling of sharp tension that comes with being around other people? Do they even feel those things?

Maybe they do. Maybe they did. Maybe this is normal and every person my age feels like this. Maybe this eventually goes away. Maybe I’ll wake up one day and be Daydream Adam, excited to take on the world. I’ll roll over in bed with complete ease, smile at my husband, whistle while I make coffee, and go to a job that I love and never want to hurt myself ever again.

That same voice telling me I can trust Caleb is whispering these dreams to me. Like a little spark in my chest, frail and flickering, causing me to hope. But it’s no match for the vaporous black cloud that permeates my lungs. The cloud throws the spark into darkness until all that’s left is an echoey voice murmuring, “It will always be this way. You don’t get to change this. You don’t get to leave this behind. You will remain in this oppressive nothing. Always.”

31

CALEB

Adam’s house looms over me like a storm. I shake it away, chalking it up to the overcast sky affecting my mood, and walk up the front path to the door. A blue mist snakes out of the house, wrapping its way around my head, muffling my ears and threatening to choke me. I swallow around it, closing my eyes as I try to adjust. This is Adam’s. I think. It’s heavier, more present than ever before, but it feels like him.

I knock on the door. No answer. I knock again before noticing the doorbell button next to the mailbox attached to the front of the house. I push it, hearing the chimes through the closed door. No answer.

This might have been a bad idea. Adam invited me to hang out when we smoothed things over on Wednesday, but I didn’t see him the rest of the week and it’s dawning on me that just showing up at his house without hearing from him is sort of a strange move.

God, what if he’s not even here? The sun is starting to go down, making it feel like it’s much later than it actually is, and my hands are stinging in the cold. I shove them into my pockets just as the blue haze gets thicker—it’s not a fog anymore, it’s a wave. Breathing functions are hard to access for a few seconds and I struggle to maintain my balance, as the feeling is almost a physical force pushing me backward, away from the door.

This was definitely a bad idea.