I'm back! Hopefully I will be able to start writing again and that my technique gets better. Any feedback is welcome.
Every day was the same old thing. Wake up, get to work (20 minutes late), fight crime, go home, watch die hard and fall asleep in front of the television. At least, this is what life was like for Jacob "Jake" Peralta. You see, life has been pretty stale for Jake the last few years and with no sign that it is on it's way to getting better, it was starting to get to him.
He started to sleep less, eat less and drink more. However, by 9am the next day, he'd be the same old Jake. Waltzing into work, not a care in the world about being late, wide smile on his face, ready to give the Captin his latest excuse. Coffee always in hand, to try and cover up the sleep deprivation. However, as the days, the weeks and the months went by, Jake was finding it harder and harder to cover the fact that he was struggling. He had the same smile that he had always had, but people were starting to notice how much weight he had lost and how he was the last one to leave the bar, after a night out. He was less, well, Jake.
Then he stopped coming into work.
No phone call. No text. Nothing.
The only person to know, was Captain Holt. The only excuse the Captain gave was that he was ill. But this is Jake Peralta. The same Jake Peralta who insisted on working, even though he hadn't long received internal bleeding. The same Jake Peralta who had never missed a day of work. The same Jake Peralta who works through every holiday as he "has nothing better to do".
It was completely out of character to just not turn up.
No one knew how much he was suffering. How he was locked up in his apartment. The fear of leaving became so overwhelming, that he just never left. Take out containers filled his apartment, you could no longer see the floor.
Jake's smile had long faded, hair was stuck down flat with grease. He's wearing the same clothes that he wore two weeks ago, and he's yet to take them off. The apartments in darkness, not a single light on. That would just open him up to visitors thinking that he's home, so they can judge him. Judge how he looks. Judge the state of his apartment. Judge his personality. Most importantly. Judge his ability of his work.
Every day was the same, but different than before. He'd wake up, try to leave the apartment and decide that he's too bad at his job to do so, crack open a beer, sit in silence all day, order take out and then stay awake until he passes out from exhaustion.
See, it's more than the fact that he's stuck in a rut. It's the years of self deprecation. It's the years of never being good enough- for anyone. It's the years of relationships that always ended with him being the broken one. Maybe he's too trusting, maybe he's too kind. He will never know.
It could also be the years of never having a "quiet" moment. Never being able to quiet the thousands of sentences and questions in his head. Being always "on the go". Not being able to sit still, always needing more but never having enough. Maybe this is what has driven Jake Peralta to this point in his life.
To the point in which he doesn't know where to go. Doesn't know who he can talk to. Can't find the light at the end of the tunnel.
Until one day, when there's a knock on the door. Standing there is his new neighbour. Samantha her name is. Maybe there is light at the end of the tunnel.
Within the next week, Jake is back in work and everyone tells him how they missed him and how they were worried about him, especially when his mobile number got disconnected. But he was back to being the same old Jake. Smiling, poking fun of his colleagues and loving life. He'd wake up, get to work only 5 minutes late, save the day, get home and curl up on the sofa with Samantha, falling asleep in each others arms.
Jake hasn't felt like this in a long time. Happy. Happy is a word that you could not use to describe Jake. But now he had his "one true love". His everything. His Holly to his Bruce. His whole entire world. Every second that he wasn't catching criminals was spent with her. Until one day, when he got home and there was a simple note left on his bed. She's gone.
This is when Jake's demons catch up on him. The ones that he never dealt with previously. The new ones too. The change is hard to see at first. He comes to work with the same clothes on, two days in a row. People push it aside, presuming it to be due to whoever his rebound was. Then, slowly but surely, it all starts to come back. The lack of sleep. The lack of food. The drinking. Then, out of the blue, the disappearing.
This time it's worse. There's no take out containers hiding the floor. There's just a note. Written in his best hand writing. Placed perfectly on the centre of his coffee table. And all he has, is a handful of pills.