"Don't come any closer! I'll do it, I swear I'll do it!" Sebastian yells.
"Okay, I believe you man, just breathe," Zack calmly responds as his friend continues to wave the gun. Seb's breaths are uneven, shallow and heavy.
"Why won't you go away?" Seb asks, sobbing and yelling, tears streaming down his face. "Why won't this go away?!" he pleads.
2 hours earlier...
"Slumber party, Boss, really?" Wordy asks.
"It's called the night shift and we're here to work," Greg replies. Team Two had been in charge for the day, leaving Team One time to train and breathe a bit easier. The Sarge had evaluated Lew's negotiation tactics, Spike took Babycakes for a spin, Sam and Jules went hand-to-hand in combat, Wordy and Ed did the heavy lifting. It's one of those days where things just feel right, when they connect as a team.
It was one of those days where things couldn't feel any worse for Sebastian Quinn. An indescribable sense of pain weighs on his shoulders. He's at a loss for words trying to express his emotions and thoughts. He knew he never should have taken Matthew's pistol, never should have come out here. So why did he do it? What made him take his uncle's gun and walk out here? It was an impulse, a 'let's see what I can do and how oblivious everyone is' kind of thing. He knew when he took the gun from Matthew's basement that he wouldn't really have a need for it. Until this week. Until today. Today's the day he'd do it, pull the trigger and wait.
"It's just...this sort of thing has happened before," Zack had told Sebastian while avoiding his eyes. "I've seen what happens...can happen when these things are out of human control."
"I know, man, but come on, it was nothing,"Seb responded, lying through his teeth. "It was just a one time thing, just one late night lonely drinking session," he had told his friend. He had, however, forgotten to mention that the night Zack had caught him wasn't the only time he'd drank from the bottle alone, it was the only time Zack had caught him, so why not just tell him it happened once?
He'd enjoyed the slightly warm, burning sensation of the alcohol gently sliding down his throat. Who cares what people think? Why does it matter? Another long swig, another surge of freedom. He first emptied a bottle of Jack and tossed it to the foot of his bed, the beer in his hand running low. The swigs started to feel less like freedom and more like damnation. But maybe that's what he was aiming for in the first place. Sebastian dropped the bottle onto his nightstand, sat down for a few seconds before shaking, slightly at first and then uncontrollably. He had the urge to speak, to scream, but was at a loss. He couldn't think of someone to call or anything to say, so instead he told himself that maybe the next day would be better as he sobbed his way to sleep.
Nobody really knew what had happened to Sebastian that night. As far as everyone else in school was concerned (ha! as if) he was just tired. He stayed tired and sleep deprived, hungry/not hungry, with headaches for the next two weeks. Nobody knew he couldn't take anything for his headaches because he couldn't trust himself not to take the pills and be knocked out for good. Nobody knew he couldn't trust himself to fall asleep without the assistance of alcohol. Nobody knew he wasn't hungry because he starved himself, nobody knew he couldn't eat because all the fasting left a hole in his stomach, a void where his appetite should be. Nobody knew because NOBODY CARED screamed the voice in Seb's head.
"Hey, Boss, you might want to hear this,"Winnie said, referring to the 911 call that had been transferred to the SRU at the end of Team Two's shift.