One Word: One More Day

By P. C. Houtzer

On the short side of eternity, depression, self-harm, addiction, and abuse are only a few of the issues that sent seventeen-year-old Zane Banks into the perfect downward spiral with no other choice.

In "One Word," P. C. Houtzer introduces us to Zane's soulmate, Adda Hawkins, who spends her days in tears, clinging to the remnants of a four-

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Houtzer
• Release date: Jun 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737433613

P. C. Houtzer

Author P. C. Houtzer was born in 2002 in Indianapolis, Indiana: and has been perfecting his craft for the last seven years: to start the conversation about mental health with his seven-book magnum opus: On The Short Side of Forever series. With more than thirty-thousand hours of writing under his belt, he has spent time working within almost every feature of the publishing world and uses this experience to help others begin their journies through writing. When away from his work, P. C. Houtzer spends his time supporting and mentoring individuals: drawing from his personal experiences to help others through various mental health issues. However, he also enjoys spending downtime around the piano, learning about anything strange or peculiar then finding new ways to help and inspire others.

Book preview

Dedication Page

All of my love goes out to you. This book is as much mine as it is yours. I might have put my experiences on blast, but we have all been through this before. To everyone suffering in silence: you are the unsung heroes of the world. From the ash and dust of emotional distraught: know that your life is irreplaceable, and you will never be alone.

Preface

All activities and thoughts occurring throughout this series take premise from my background and other real-life events. Every chapter finds inspiration in the experiences of specific persons while each event tailors to the individual character. Some scenarios contain explicit language or uncomfortable imagery and will not align with how every individual expresses mental health difficulties. The opinions expressed about mental health are my own, and this story does not intend to be an accurate depiction for everyone.

The On the Short Side of Forever series is my attempt at creating a steppingstone for the conversation about mental health: while sending a message to all who are suffering to let them know that they aren't alone. This book expresses one of many possible narrative pathways that arise from the repercussions of suicide: in addition to giving an in-depth example of what it means to be silently struggling.

Introduction

On the short side of eternity, depression, self-harm, addiction, and abuse are only a few of the issues that sent seventeen-year-old Zane Banks into the perfect downward spiral with no other choice. 

In "One Word," P. C. Houtzer introduces us to Zane's soulmate, Adda Hawkins, who spends her days in tears, clinging to the remnants of a four-year fallen short forever. Zane's best friend since kindergarten, Hailey Miller, descends into an impulsive, depressive addiction as another burning ember sears her skin. Then his best friend of six years, Kyle Jones, tries his best to step into the shoes Zane left behind while juggling the high-school football team with a father who's less than a star. Each one wanted the best for Zane, and now it's getting the best of them in this unexpected, addicting, and inspiring journey where one word would have changed everything.

1

Collateral Damage

Adda, Thursday 4:00 PM

Legs dangling over the edge of her bed, Adda hovers her thumb just above the overspent memories. Unable to bring her finger over more than half of the screen, she lets her shoulders slump as she tosses away the phone. Adda reaches under the pillow as a sigh escapes her lips.

September 3rd, 2018

Yesterday was the Homecoming Dance, and when we pushed open the gymnasium doors, I almost lost my mind at how adorable Zane was. It was precious how his cheeks got so cotton-candy pink. He melted my heart when he insisted on using sign language for half of the night.

Once things got into full swing, Zane was laughing on the dance floor, both dimples shining at his best. While watching him go wild out there, enjoying life to the fullest, it reminded me why I needed to snatch him up and make him mine.

If Zane can lean on me right now, I know that we’ll have the strength to brave anything this world throws at us. It scares me that he might relapse, though I know if I could let him know how he makes me feel inside. Adda skims the series of pinpoint dots, remembering the pain that inspired her pen. I hope he knows I need him. I hope he realizes how much I care and how devastated I would be. Her eyes dodge a small purple squiggle in the margins.

Adda sniffles, watching hopeless beads of water burst and stain the pink-lined page. Why did I tell him I needed a break? I never asked for this. He knew this wasn’t what I meant. She gazes out her window, pleading to the soul of Mother Earth.

Images of Zane dance a cruel ballet with each piece of nature: she hears their symphonic laughter, a vivid reminder of her mistakes. Lost in a sea of memories and desperate to reclaim her sanity, Adda grows oblivious to the world bustling outside.

She swallows the endless lump and taps the side of her face, ignoring the stinging marks that glow red upon her cheek. As every muscle tenses and each frozen hair stands on end, Adda winces at the jingling keys and modest car idling in the driveway. It’s okay, Adda, She takes a shallow, unsteady breath.

A shivering hand passes through the fraying rat’s nest in her hair as she pulls on the hem of her shirt. Adda gives one last glance to the beauty awaiting her outside before a voice in the back of her mind calls out for her to go. The echoing squeak pleads with her to run away: to live among nature. She ignores her pleading conscience and shuffles towards her inevitable fate.

Prepared for the onslaught of questions to begin, Adda fidgets with hands tucked behind her back. How was work today, Mom? She leads with a counter push.

Adda watches the tall-spined woman drop a leather purse on the table. Work was nothing special, Hun. How was your second to last week of freedom? Her mother’s side-eye gaze slices with ease through the lengthy silence.

The word freedom, lingering, echoes the tornado in her head. A cruel reminder that her soul would forever remain hostage. It was a day. Adda sighs, unable to meet the iron gaze. In agony, as she loses the fight up front, Adda retreats into the living room and flails onto the couch.

A few quiet moments pass, save a low rumbling purr, as she scrunches her over-grown body into the worn corner and concave cushion. Adda listens for the clatter of footsteps on linoleum, yet the serenity of silence brings a sigh of relief to her lips.

Chest falling still as she routes her grand escape; an unexpected touch makes her shutter and brings a crippling blow to her defenses. You know what I’m going to tell you, Baby. Kathryn wrinkles her blazer with a gentle voice.

Half-baked syllables charged with emotion surge and soar, landing on the rug beside an expiring overture. A tuft of hair falls across Adda’s face, making her case appear even more juvenile. I’m not doing this with you. she pushes away the curtain of hairs. Adda purses her lips, prepared for war. But she calls for a ceasefire at the shell before her on the couch.

Hands under her legs and bags even more prominent under her eyes, Kathryn parts her lips, lifting two fingers to her temple. As her back arches over the fabric-less strip on the arm of the couch, stress begins to shimmer through the weathered, rusted shield. It’s been over a week, Adda. We’ve given you long enough. You can’t keep this bottled up inside anymore.

Green embers rekindling the raging fire in her eyes, Adda drops her head, fighting with ease against her mom’s artifice. You don’t know what it’s like to be me. Adda raises a hand to her chest, staining the rouge on her cheeks. I had to watch everything that I care about go crumbling to the ground: Everything - She stammers.

Small: sticky bubbles pop as they trickle from her nose. Her trembling voice cracks the moment she brings a hand to the ache in her throat. Adda shoves the trickles of goo, continuing her onslaught with increased ferocity. I ruined my life and Hailey’s too. Everything that’s happening, all of this comes back to me.

Adda throws her arms out, face, an even more prominent shade of red. I drove the love of my life to suicide, for Heaven’s sake. Don’t you think spending eternity in solitude is punishment enough? Feverish as she fights the crescendoing accordion accompaniment in her chest, an animalistic noise escapes her. Adda pushes away the tender warmth.

Brow furrowing as her eyes narrow on a slice of Niagara Falls, Kathryn takes a breath, unclenching her white-knuckled fist. I care about you too much to let you destroy your life like this, Adda. You don’t have a choice. Sit down, right now, and tell me what’s on your mind.

Adda chokes on the words running aimlessly up her throat, every emotion she’d ever experienced culminating in an apex moment of blinding lights. A jumble of syllables escapes from her lips, forcing more heat to flow through her face and causing more sweat to stain her favorite shirt. In seconds, softened sensations of warmth engulf her, sending her spirit into an unhinged, frenzied panic.

As her brain screams at the momentary epidemic of anxiety, Adda skims the scene faster and faster, overcome by the plastered look of shock. Primal instincts seizing control, she sprints past the couch escaping to her room: eluding any immediate consequences for her actions.

The tiny golden lock which seals Adda from the world; releases waves of tranquility that manifest inside of her. Her legs tremble as air rejuvenates her lungs. She slides with rhythmic breaths down the wooden panels on the door while the steady motion of her chest induces a hazy aura of euphoria.

While a quivering mess of fingers grows intertwined in her hair, Adda sighs and lifts her head. She finds a slight curl to her lips. Then, swelling heat pulses through her from a rapid double-flash of light. A winter shiver crawls down her spine as she throws her heaving body onto a crumpled ball of blankets.

Adda Nicole Hawkins, open this door. The icy vengeful tone threatens to be the judge, jury, and executioner. Adda slinks towards her comeuppance: body shrinking towards the floor. She whips her phone across the carpet, watching it slide beneath the bed before sneaking a wink at the orange Tabby, who follows to guard her skittering phone.

Silence lingers in the air as the door, appearing larger: more intimidating than before, teases her with a creak. It slows with malice as it swings open, revealing a figure behind her mom. Sunset warmth emanates through her as her nervousness washes away.

Hey, She chirps, gazing up, introducing her mom to the wall. Adda falls with a lighthearted squeak into the outstretched, muscled arms while a muted orange streak passes between two pairs of legs.

Warmth fixed around her shoulders: he pulls her tight yet steals her breath as he morphs back into the unsightly figure of a parent. I heard you walked out on an important conversation. Her dad says, raising then resting a hand on the skin of her forearm.

Adda offers a shrug, wrinkling her shirt as her butt bounces on the floor. Legs transforming into springs, she dives, though, collides with his fingers, and stumbles onto the bed at the allegro beat in her chest. I told you she wouldn’t budge. Her mother snaps, pug-faced, pushing away from the wall. Kathryn shoves Jack into the room.

Adda blinks, simulating a Polaroid flash. With a smirk across her face, she captures a mental snapshot of two priceless idyllic expressions. This one belongs in the scrapbook. She stifles a laugh beneath her breath.

Listen to me, Biscuit: Please. Arms close against her chest, Adda presses the chill on her back to the wooden headboard of her bed. We have given you some time to work through this, Jack traps his tongue along the outskirts of a commissure, which curls from ear to ear. Some might say you had enough time three days ago. But regardless of if you want to share your thoughts with us or not, you will always have our full: unconditional support. Jack pauses. The air grows heavy as he raises his brow.

Adda leans closer as she scooches towards the center of her bed, something mystical in his tone compelling her to listen. He glances over his shoulder, lifting a finger to her lips. She sways with only her company, staring onward, mesmerized as he arises and closes the door on the empty hallway.

As Jack curls his fingers and finds his seat, the mattress sinks under the weight of them both. She raises two fingers to giggle while her dad remains repose. His warmth reclaims her shifting gaze with a firm yet soothing tone. I need you to talk with me about this, Adda. I don’t want to push you, but you have to give me something.

He takes her by the hand, but she doesn’t pull away. Your mom and I get worried, and we can’t see inside that beautiful mind. Help us out here, Pump: Please, give me a shred: a small piece of something. Her leaden heartbeats vivace. While unattainable memories of Zane swirl in her head, his hefty sigh grips her wrist, pulling her free from the bottomless abyss.

Jack lowers his head with unsettling gravitas in his eyes. I’m going to tell you something, Adda, but it stays between us. Intensity fading, growing lost in the past, her dad shakes his head. He turns, starting towards the window. Do you know how I met your mother, Pump? I was sitting alone in a bar, topping off one of the worst weeks of my life. Whatever you are imagining, I was at least ten times worse.

Gaze growing lost in emerald skies, her dad’s spirit flies alongside his words. Then, I lifted my head to find a woman who asked me what was wrong. I couldn’t bring myself to meet her gaze or return the heat from her hand on my shoulder. So, I asked her to go away. Silence steals the air from my breath until I hear this tiny squeak. I knew what she had done, and as if on cue, I felt her tender grip on my shoulder. A single puff of nostalgia escapes him.

The air leavens as his dimples rival the sun. His lip’s part, as if wanting to say more, deciding against it, he gives a single nod to the silence. Adda inches closer, goosebumps line her skin as she wraps both arms around her dad.

She loses herself in his past, oblivious to her own and her bleak outlook on the future. Desperate to live in their paradise forever, she pulls her dad in closer, pressing her ear against his chest. I heard her speak after what felt like an eternity.

Adda closes her eyes, imagining every heartbeat is a passing, predetermined second. "In this, all too familiar, firm yet caring tone: I hear, It doesn’t matter if we sit together in silence now or later. I have nowhere else to be, so we might as well get to talking. Dimpled chin pressed to her chest, Adda ruffles the picturesque quiet, though smiles, finding joy in the fingers drumming on her stomach.

She cackles from her soul, lifting her arms to press her fingers into his dimples. Well, of course, you talked all night. The next day, you took her out for dinner, but oopsie-daisy, your card declined. She thought it was so cute how you lit up bright like a Christmas light: and all because you forgot some sucker stole the numbers to your card. You made up for it, though, with chocolates when your new one arrived in the mail. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Jack yawns, lifting his arms, rocking a ball of Adda in his lap. Do you see the moral of the story, Biscuit? His heated palm falls on her head.

Of course, I do, Her piercing harlequins reach for hazel light. Don’t invite someone out for a date if you don’t have a working credit card.

Her dad tosses her in the air and pokes the single dimple on her cheek. We could take this party down to the garage and go look through your baby book. If the message needs more time to simmer. Adda bolts away, sending him tumbling to the floor. He grabs her arm for balance, pulling her pursed lips back into his lap.

Narrowed gaze finding her dad’s triumphant grin, she sends a pointed finger into the center of his jowl. I swear, I will burn that stupid book if I ever lay eyes on it again. With Adda bounding into his arms, Jack rolls her onto the floor. Toothy grin growing wide across his face: he stretches across the small five-foot divot in her bed and slides his meaty arms underneath her silky bamboo pillows.

He gropes for a stuffed animal and fits it beneath his arm as Adda throws out hers. Her face glows a bold shade of crimson red. Oh, you know how I enjoy my afternoon naps after a long day at work. And today, your mother pulled me into your room as soon as my foot crossed over the threshold.

Adda sticks out her tongue, meekly shoving his cypress legs. Fine, you win, but only on the condition that you promise you will never return to sleep in this bed for as long as you shall live.

You’ll get a new one, He smirks, pulling the blanket up to his chest.

As a mist of clouds swirls over the horizon: Adda crumbles onto the bed: hands folded in her lap. Zane was more than just my boyfriend. He was all I had: my everything, and I’ll never see him again because I didn’t act quick enough to save him. She tugs at the ends of her hair.

Heavy sigh escaping, she bites a pool of red from the crack in her lip. Adda drags a thallium hand across her stinging, misty eyes. I don’t know who I am or how to face the world without Zane. Adda stares into the glistening creases glinting fragments of light inside her palm. Quiet slivers of existential dread sound stewing louder from the shadows.

She struggles against an invisible enemy that wields darkness as a weapon from a dusty corner of her mind. Adda falls into her pillow, though a gust of wind kisses her lips. Then I guess today is your lucky day. Her dad slips a leather wallet back into his pocket. Adda rises from the bed, face like a Picasso with a snaky, half-pudgy smile.

A breathless gasp escapes his smirk. For the ice cream that I offered: if you’re up to it, Adda Nicole. I think we made excellent progress here, He mimics her disgruntled expression. But I am going to need a little more from you sometime soon. So, The tip of his tongue reveals itself within small crevices of thinning pink. Do we have a deal?

2

Saving Souls

Hailey, Thursday 12:00 PM

With hopeful chirps and sweet melodies, the songbirds sing a subtle tune, telling a tale as old as