Glancing at the clock, you realized it was far too late. Too late for everything. Too late to be saved from your ghosts, too late to find yourself again. Your woes, your sins, your existence was nothing anymore. You slashed but found that the only blood dripping to the floor was your own. The monsters no longer cared to let you live. They were there, and they laughed at you, taking on the face of your mother, your father, your friends. Everyone you ever thought might have cared for you, laughing as you collapsed on the floor in the red and the pain.
You wanted to die. You didn't know why really. You just didn't want to deal with life anymore. Perhaps it was because of something someone did. Maybe something you did. Hands from the dark, sticky puddle seemed to hold you down, swallowing you up in darkness. A part of you relinquished, another part held on to the small strand of life still beating in your chest. You fought with yourself until neither side could fight anymore.
Your eyelids fluttered open.
As cliche as it sounds, you thought you were in heaven. Everything was so bright, and white, peaceful. You could hear yourself breathing, hear your heart beating in your chest. Ba-dum, ba-dum. But it sounded like music. Strange, alien, distant… nice. You blinked and the hospital room came into focus. You noticed the pain in your arms. Familiar, but still distant. Somewhat unwanted. The faux heartbeat beeped nearby.
"[y/n]?" Someone said, echoing in your head like a distant gong. It was John. Egbert. Just seeing him, you felt like crying. Why had you done this? You knew the consequences of your suicide, but… what, you didn't care? It wasn't that exactly. Instead of crying, you closed your eyes and took a shaky breath.
"... John… Why are you here?" You said, not making eye contact with him.
"[y/n]. We… we don't need to talk about it now, but… goddamnit, [y/n]! Do you know how much we all care for you?" You continued to stare at you hands, tear ducts dry. "Do you know how scared we all were? How scared I was? Am?"
You wanted to apologize, but saying 'sorry' just felt empty. Everything felt empty. So you didn't say anything. He sighed, taking a step back. You both stared out the window at the night sky. Winter crept through moonlit clouds, stars twinkling like pinpricks of hope. Any other time you would've felt in awe of it, but instead you saw only the darkness and the cold.
"John… I need help."
He looked at you, eyes trying to understand and failing.
"I need a lot of help," You continued, trying to find your senses. "I don't want to live. I don't want to die. It's an equilibrium that varies enough where I don't want to live more than I don't want to die." You were surprised at how lucid you were, considering the pain medications you were inevitably on. "I don't want to put any pressure on you John. I'm just… I don't have anyone else."
He placed a hand on your arm. "It's okay. Please don't do this again. I'll be a phone call away, anytime. Really."
You wanted to believe him. But how could you be sure? You'd only known him for a few years. Maybe that was enough, but you didn't know what anything meant anymore. What was friendship? Was it only something that could be broken? How could anyone love you after this? You sighed, looking into his eyes. They were so blue… broken and sad. Maybe this had affected him more than you realized it would.
The next few days you were dismissed from the hospital. John invited you to hang out with his friends. You knew of them: The cool one, the 'cthulhu' one, the gardening one. There were others, sure, but these were the only ones you'd met in person. As much as you wanted to decline (you just weren't feeling it), you knew it would be good for you. And so you accepted the get-together. It wasn't anything too fancy: just the five of you at a local cafe. In your mind, it sounded like an ideal thing to do; something normal people would do. Something completely unlike you.
You entered the cafe, and the group stuck out like a sore thumb. They were laughing, and talking. The rest of the coffee-goers were either stuck in some sort of book or talking in hushed tones. Were they talking about you? They must think you're some sort of freak, walking over to the other freaks in the corner. Your skin crawled, and you clenched your jaw, trying not to think. John saw you and waved you over, smiling a big toothy smile.
"Hey! [y/n], come on over."
You smiled wanly and sat in the empty chair beside him. Had they all heard about what you'd done? Probably. They all seemed a little too… smiley. Too sympathetic. Too focused on you.
"Sup," Dave said. "You gonna get a drink?"
"Um…" You'd forgotten about that. "No, I, uh, don't want anything." You didn't like coffee anyways. You didn't want to pay for anything either. But man, you felt like a loser being the only one at the table without a drink.
"Oh, hey! It's been awhile, [y/n]!" The girl with glasses said, perking up.
You forced a small chuckle. "Yeah, sure has been. Um… how are you, Jade?" Maybe it would be good to try and start a conversation. You tried to remember if John had said Jade was his sister. There was some resemblance, but you couldn't see much of it. Maybe you were just stupid.
"Oh, can't complain, can't complain. Beq's had to go in to the vet for minor surgery, but other than that everything's fine."
Who's Beq? You thought. You assumed a pet of some sort, but you didn't really feel like asking. For the next hour or so you coasted, not really paying attention to the conversation. You answered questions directed at you, but you soon began to feel like a 'fifth wheel' so to speak. You became invisible to them. You were always invisible. Nothing but a ghost drifting in life. You felt the void and cold begin to creep through your body again. Dread, sorrow. Self pity. You clenched your fists together, trying desperately to block out the feeling. Useless, useless! How useless you were. It felt like you were simply eavesdropping on a conversation in another room. They were laughing, you were drooping into your own self-loathing.
"[y/n]?" John's voice snapped you out of your episode.
"Um… oh. Yeah?" Your voice felt brittle and small.
"Are you doing alright? Is this too much for you?" His voice had lowered. You chewed the inside of your cheek, nodding. But you shook your head. You wanted to be here. As uncomfortable as you felt, you would rather be here than sulking alone in your apartment.
"I'm fine." You forced a smile, and he smiled in return. Did he really believe that?
You left feeling emptier than when you had started. You felt drained and confused and tired. Maybe John was being naive, or something. He was acting as if nothing had happened. A part of you was grateful for that, but… something was nagging at you, emptying you of what little cheer you had to begin with.
The next few days, you returned to work. You worked at a local retail store. Your days were mostly uneventful. You shelved items, you directed a few customers, but overall you just continued to feel empty. Empty and angry. Mostly you were annoyed at the uniforms you had to wear. Blue, short sleeved shirts with black, nice-ish pants. You could barely function in these clothes. They made you feel like people were staring at your arms, and even though they weren't irritating, you felt itchy and uncomfortable in them. You were allowed to wear fingerless gloves, but they too felt itchy and just reminded you of worse times.
"Excuse me," The nasally voice of an old lady caught your attention as you folded some wrinkled pants. "Maybe you can help me."
"What do you need help with, ma'am?" You asked, though honestly you were completely uninterested.
"Does this sweater come any cheaper? It has a blue tag and the sign outside said that blue tags are on sale. But this sweater doesn't seem to be very cheap."
You looked at the tag and it did indeed have a blue tag. Looking directly behind the old lady's head, however, there was a notice saying that green tagged items were 25% off.
"I'm sorry ma'am but I think today's discounted items are green tagged," You said, showing her the sign.
"Oh, that can't be right." They way she said it seemed to shut you down immediately, as if she was saying there was no way her memory could've been wrong. Her elderly, white-haired memory that needed inch-thick glasses to see.
"If… if you want, m-ma'am, I can check with my manager… but the signs says green."
"The sign said blue! Where is your manager? I want to speak to him myself." She began to start ranting about how the customer is always right, but you were busy trying to radio Mr. Mason. With a shaky voice you told him the situation and he said he'd be over ASAP.
The old woman began to raise her voice and you could feel your heartbeat rise in panic. You felt yourself gripped in terror, palms sweaty and mind flashing back to all the things you've done wrong. The monsters began to edge in around you, people staring at you, judging and staring and staring and laughing and oh God someone was touching you–
"[Y/n]?" Mr. Mason had arrived, hand on your shoulder, a look of confusion on his face.
"I– she–" You didn't know what to say.
"Are you the manager here?" The lady said, lips pursed and wig slightly askew.
"Yes I am. What seems to be the problem, miss?"
She explained that you was lying to her to try and get her to pay more, and while you both knew that wasn't true, he humored her and gave her a discount on the sweater. He turned to you.
"Are you doing alright?" You still were a little flustered and felt like you were on the verge of crying. But you nodded.
"I'll be fine. I… I need to use the restroom."
In the employee restroom, you locked the door and sat down in the driest corner and felt tears dribble down your face. You were in so much pain, so much numb, so much hurt, so much nothing. You didn't know how you felt! You just wanted to cry and cry until you were no more, but instead you held it in as much as you could. Why had that old lady been so rude? Why had that sparked your panic, your sorrow, your hurt? You didn't know what to do. You wiped the tears from you eyes and the blood from your lip. How long had you been biting your lip? You needed someone to talk to… but who would want to talk to you? No one.
You took out your phone. Maybe John would be willing to talk. Or listen. The void inside of your heart was too much to carry alone right now. With trembling hands, you dialed his number.
It beeped once, twice, three times…
"[Y/n]? What's up?"
Maybe this had been a mistake. What were you going to say? "Hey, John." You hoped it wasn't obvious that you were upset.
"Is something wrong?"
"I… well… yeah."
"Do you… need to talk about it?"
You paused. Did you? Was he just asking you out of pity? Did he really care? "Yeah. I… can we meet somewhere?"
"Sure…" He seemed a little hesitant. "Where do you want to meet?"
"I don't know… I don't care. Somewhere without a lot of people."
"How about the park? At this time of year we'd probably be the only ones there."
Out in the cold? You weren't sure, but it was better than anything you could come up with. You agreed, wiped away your tears, and found Mr. Mason.
"I have an personal emergency," You said, hoping he would understand. He did, but you couldn't help but feel bad. Liar, liar, liar! Your monsters laughed at you as you walked out into the parking lot.
The park was frosted and ice crept through the edges of the water. A frigid breeze swept through the treetops and the sun shone icily through the fleeting wisps of cloud. John's car was parked in the small lot and he was waiting beside it, shivering despite his big winter coat. You walked up to him, eyes feeling bleary despite the lack of tears.
"Um… What's up?" He asked, looking concerned but smiling anyways.
"I don't know…" You said. In silence the two of you began walking on the trail, breathing visible in small puffs of steam.
"I don't know what I'm feeling anymore," You said, arms crossed.
He didn't say anything. Was he trying to find something to say? Admittedly you weren't really looking for him to say anything. Not really.
You told him about the lady at work and how you didn't understand why you'd freaked out. You wondered out loud why you were feeling what you felt, (what was it you were feeling?) why were you scared all the time, why were you sad all the time? Why could you never be happy? John walked beside you and listened, seeming intent and concerned, nodding when you looked at him. But was he really hearing what your heart was saying?
The two of you stopped by the water, followed by silence again. John had been right. No one else was at the park. Just them and the rare bird or squirrel. Again you began to feel distant and empty. John wasn't saying anything. It was like you were a ghost again. Tears stung your eyes and you tried to blink them away. He must've seen, because he (somewhat awkwardly) put an arm around your shoulder.
"Hey," He said. It was clear he was trying to find the right words. "I can't say I know what you're going through. But… thank you for trusting me."
"But… that's just it, John," you said through chattering teeth. "I don't know if I trust you. I want to, but everyone I've ever trusted has left me or hurt me somehow… I don't know! I don't even know why I'm still talking to you, or why I'm telling you this!" Your fists clenched. You'd said it. The truth… Looking into his eyes, you knew he was hurt. He was still trying desperately to understand what you were saying, how you were feeling. "I don't expect you to understand, John. I guess I just… needed to vent."
You pushed out from under his arm, and began to walk back to the parking lot. There was a weird tension in the air. He wanted to say something. But what could he say? He couldn't make you feel any better. No one could. No friend, no relative, no therapist had ever truly helped you before. You huffed, hugging yourself.
Maybe it would be better if you just didn't speak to anyone anymore.
John wouldn't stop calling you. Every day at the exact same time (4:13ish in the afternoon) your phone would buzz and you'd hear his voice saying something ridiculous, like, "Hello? This is Sean Archer," or "Put the bunny back in the box." Today, right on time, he called and said, "Are you sick?"
I almost smiled, expecting a pun, and said, "Why?"
"You sound sick."
"I am sick."
"Do you need medicine?"
I sighed. Where was he going with this? "There is no medicine for what I have."
"Holy shit, that was perfect!"
What. You voiced your thoughts.
He laughed. "It's nothing. You wanna go see a movie sometime?"
You sighed, looking around you dark apartment. "No thanks. I'm not really in the mood for a cheesy Nicolas Cage movie."
"Aw, c'mon, he's not that bad."
"Mm-hm. I'm not seeing a Nicolas Cage movie."
"How about a different movie?"
He just wouldn't give up. "No thanks."
"Fine, fine. No go on a movie. Is there anything you want to do?"
Scrunching up my face in thought, you paused, and said, "Dunno."
"Do you have a, uh… I dunno, a bucket list? Things you want to do someday?"
You noticed he was cleverly avoiding the word 'die'. You shrugged a blanket over your shoulders, peeking out into the world through your blinds. "I dunno… Maybe."
"C'mon! You can tell me."
You bit your lip. Could you? Maybe… "Well… I've always wanted to try ice skating." Almost on instinct you wanted to hang up before he started laughing at you… but you stayed on. Maybe he wouldn't laugh at you.
"Ice skating!" You braced yourself more. "That's awesome. We could totes go ice skating! I think there's a rink nearby."
You smiled. He was really trying. Maybe, maybe, maybe… maybe you should try too.
"That… that sounds like fun."
You could hear his giant toothy smile through the phone. "Awesome! It's a date. Uh, I mean, that is, uh… fuck… nevermind. How does this saturday sound? I can pick you up?"
You were blushing at this point. "Sure. Um. Seeya then."
"Seeya!" He hung up and flustered exclamation.
This saturday seemed so far away… for a moment you were excited, happy, ecstatic. You felt like you really, really, really could trust him. But then you slumped into your fears. The monsters crept back, telling you to shut up, saying that you weren't worth it, that he didn't really care about you. The void returned to your chest. The fear made your skin crawl and your gut reel. You closed your eyes, laying on your bed. If anything, you wanted to make it to Saturday. Just 3 days away. Just 72 hours. 4320 minutes.
You almost didn't make it to saturday. The pain in your heart was too much. No one loved you, no one cared. Everyone hated you for no reason… and yet they had every reason to despise your existence. Your parents didn't speak to you, your only friends weren't even yours, you were probably going to lose your job any day now. Oh God you did not want to lose your job, your apartment, your life. But you did. You weren't sure if that was an excuse for what you did or not. But the monsters said it was and that made you feel even worse.
"H-hey, John?" You said, feeling broken and frail inside.
"Yeah? What's up?" He said through the phone's speaker.
"I'm gonna have to cancel tomorrow. S-something came up." It was a lie. A stupid, horrible lie. Why were you lying? Why couldn't you just ask him to come over and save you while you still could? Why, why, why?
"Oh. Dang." He sounded upset. But how could you be certain? He probably hated you just as much as everyone else did. "What came up?"
"M-my mom. She, uh… she's in the hospital." Untrue, lies, dishonesty!
"Oh no! That's horrible. What happened to her?"
Damnit, why wouldn't he just let you be? "Look, John, I don't know. But I can't go tomorrow."
He was silent for a moment. "Okay. If you need anything–"
"I know, I know!" You hung up, trembling, cross-legged on your bed. You rubbed your red eyes with your tight fist, biting your lip so you wouldn't cry. You no longer wanted to cry. Crying wasn't for you, you'd decided. Crying was for other people, normal people. Not you. You slowly opened your fist. A treasure trove of little white pills gleamed up at you, smiling at you, grinning at you, laughing at you. You'd already taken five. You had originally hoped that they would block out the pain, the loneliness, but… they weren't working! Only when you realized this might be your last night alive did you think about calling John. He deserved a goodbye, even if it was full of lies.
You swallowed another five pills, almost gagging at the acrid taste. Your head was getting weird and you felt strange. Was the pain ebbing away yet? Just barely.
Another five pills. And another. And another. The last pill you held in trembling fingers. Was this the lucky pill? The one that would send you beyond? Take away the pain?
Before you could swallow it, your doorbell rang.
You teetered into a standing position, trying to stay balanced. Your stomach didn't feel too good. Not good at all. The monsters swarmed around you, taking on the visage of the laughing pills. The doorbell rang again. And again. Taunting you, jeering at you, laughing at you. Your insides boiled and bubbled, muscles clenching. You made your way to your bathroom, knocking something over that made a decent gash in your foot.
"Fuck," You slurred, hanging on with all your might to the bathroom door. This time the door was pounded on, and someone called your name. In your mind it meant nothing. You no longer existed. You heard the door open, feet running, those pretty blue eyes looking for you. To laugh at you. To leave you.
You closed the bathroom door behind you, managing to lock it. No one was going to take this moment from you. You slumped against the door, hugging your knees, hoping your stomach would stop aching. The door behind you shuddered as the intruder pounded his fists against it. You didn't care. You didn't care that you no longer knew his name. You didn't care that he knew your name. You just. Didn't care. In a flash of pain, however, you did care. Your stomach simply could not handle it any more. You retched and gagged and threw up, yelling between heaves. No, no, no, no, no! Why wasn't it working? Why the pain? Why the horror? Why, why, why? Your door burst open, John falling through. He saw you, pitiful, horrible, terrible you, clutching your stomach on the ground, foot bleeding, tears dripping.
You heaved again, stomach acid burning your throat. You were done. With everything. With life, with people, with love. You felt horrible. Pained. Disgusting. Why did he have to see you like this? Why was he even here? You buried your face in your hands when you realized he'd seen the pill bottle. You were so disgusting. You were sitting in your own filth, on the floor, curled over so that he wouldn't see you. Absolutely wretched. The tears couldn't be stopped, but you bit your tongue. Crying wasn't for you.
But suddenly John sat next to you. He looked at you. He put a hand on your shoulder.
"It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."
You lost it. You. Lost. It. You cried. You fell back beside him and cried and cried and cried. And he cried too. You both wept in each other's arms, minds wiping through what you'd done wrong, what you could've done differently, why this was happening. The tears fell like raindrops, and you wallowed in your pity. The monsters watched from a distance. You could feel them watching, waiting… walking away? Your sobs caught in your throat, morphing into something new, something distant, something… good. You were laughing. You were laughing at how stupid and ridiculous this scene was. The two of you, hugging and crying, in your bathroom, on the floor, your own bodily fluids a few disgusting feet away.
You laughed, he laughed, wiping your tears away. Your stomach still hurt, but not from the pills. He pulled you into a deep hug, kissing you on the forehead.
Through hiccups, you said, "John… you broke my door."
"I'm sorry."
"How did you even do that? You weigh like ten pounds."
He sighed, smiling, hugging you closer. "Windy powers."
You both giggled. Suddenly John looked down at you, face serious.
"You know I love you, right?" He said.
You nodded. You did. You actually did. "I know. I… I love you too."
Holding his hands in yours, you looked up at him. "I don't know if this is just a passing phase or not, but I won't stop caring. Deep down."
He nodded. "There will be dark days. There always are. But today isn't one of them. Neither is tomorrow!" He poked your nose with his finger. "We're going ice skating. And we're going to have fun, dammit!"
You did have fun on saturday. You were a klutz on the ice, and he was a natural, but you both had a blast. He guided your shaky legs further onto the ice, and you dragged him down with you when you fell on your butt. Afterwards, the two of you grabbed hot cocoa, and walked in the park again. It was cloudy and gray, but it was peaceful. Wind blew through the air, sweeping away the smoggy city air. You stood by the water, sipping your drinks and huddling close. Everything felt good. Right. But there was still something nagging you.
"John…"
"Hm?"
"I… I'm scared that this will end. I'm so happy right now. I haven't been happy in so long. Not like this."
He looked at the water, thoughtful. "Well… I can't promise you won't ever be sad again… But as long as you look forward to the good times, maybe…?"
You leaned your head on his shoulder. "Maybe."
City noises echoed through the park's silence. Everything was gray, and it felt good. You watched in awe as little white flakes began to fall, shimmering, and beginning to cover everything. You both exclaimed at the snowflakes, holding hands, hearts beating together, childishly trying to catch the flakes on your tongues. Your eyes met his blue ones, ecstatic and happy. You pulled him close and kissed him, lips smiling together.
You never wanted this day to end.