Chapter Thirty Two
March 2006
"OH! Bella, it's beautiful!" he heard from downstairs. Esme, Rosalie and Lynessa were throwing Bella a baby shower. She was due to deliver in a few weeks and preparations were already underway.
Edward and Bella had remodeled a few of the bedrooms upstairs in the house, making a master suite that connected to a nursery. He was more than welcome to stay, but since it had been mostly Edward's money that had bought them the house in the first place, he had decided to start looking for a place of his own. He hadn't told anyone, but he was planning on moving out before the baby was born if he could find himself somewhere to stay. And that was what led him to his inner musings at this point.
Why am I doing this, he wondered.
"Hey! Congrats, Dad!" he heard someone shout to Edward. The men were all gathered in the game room, smoking cigars and talking shit until the women needed them for something or wanted to show them off.
Why go on? I mean…everyone else is happy. Everyone else has someone…and me? I'm nothing.
He sighed as Emmett came out of the game room. "Jazz? Bro, what you doing out there? Come on. Booze and smokes in here!" Emmett grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the room.
Great. Pretending once more. Pretending everything is okay. Pretending that I love everything. But I don't. I don't love everything. There are things I love, people I love; but they don't love me. They don't need me. They don't want me. Sure, some of them act like they do; and they try, but they don't.
He watched his best friend sipping on a beer and smoking his Stogy. Look at him. He is so happy. He has Rosalie and Benjamin and yes; I need him. But him? No, he doesn't need me. I'm just the friend. I'm nothing anymore.
He looked at Edward, Carlisle and Jake who were in an intense game of pool. My band. I love these guys. And yeah, I guess they love me too. But they don't need me. I need this band to stay alive. But they don't need me. They can do just fine without me.
His thoughts shifted to the women in his life. Mom…God, I know we had a fucked up relationship. I sometimes can't help but wonder if somewhere along the line if I'm to blame for what happened between us. Sure, you were fucked three ways from Sunday; but I can't help wondering what caused you to be like that? Having a kid at sixteen? Getting tossed out on your ass for drugs and pregnancy in a small southern town where no one understands? Thinking drugs and booze and sex fixes everything? What was it? Was it me? Did I make it that much worse? Would it have been better if you had snuck into an abortion clinic and I'd never have been born? I know I'd be better off if I had never been born…
He lit a cigar their manager, Phil, handed to him and inhaled the bitter flavor. It didn't have enough 'punch' for him, but it was good, none-the-less. He blew out the breath as his thoughts centered on the first love of his life; Miya…I could never be 'it' for you. I tried, yes, but I couldn't be. I hope you're happy wherever you are. I hope you found what you were looking for out of life. It took me a while, but finally I realize now that I didn't love you…not enough…not like I should. I hope you find who it is you need, who needs you in return.
He sighed as he thought of Alice. Dearest Alice…Ali-cat, I did so wrong by you. I didn't know you loved me. I really didn't know. But once I did, I was too hurt, too fucked up, too confused to love you like you needed and what did I do? I pushed you away. I pushed and pushed and pushed, so hard that I pushed you right off the fucking ledge. I pushed you to do something so horrible and so out of character for you…
And that's how I know I'm worthless. I am a nonentity; a person worth zilch. Everything I touch turns to shit. Just look at it; I took a beautiful woman like Alice and reduced her to nothing. It took my ex; my ex to make her well. What the fuck is that about? Did I do that bad? Am I just a cancer? A disease that affects everyone around me? Am I the cause of my mother's issues? Was it me that made her like she was? Was having me inside her, living off of her, did that ultimately kill her because she couldn't live with herself and had to drink her life away? Did she fuck me to punish me or her? Did I allow it to continue after becoming an adult for the same reasons? Did I tell no one because deep down, I knew I deserved the punishment? Maybe…
"Jasper? Man, you alright?" Edward asked him.
Jasper blinked and shook his head. "I just don't feel well. I think I'm coming down with that flu Carlisle's kids had a few weeks ago. I think I just need to rest…" I need to get the fuck out of here.
"If you're sure," Edward said with a disappointed tone.
"I'm sorry, man," Jasper told him with a slap to the back. "But hey, congratulations, really, Ed. You and Bells deserve the world."
Edward beamed. "Thanks, Jasper."
Jasper turned and walked away. He went into his room and shut the door. What am I? What do I do? Who am I? I'm a cancerous lesion on this band. I need them, need to feed off them, suck the life out of them; destroy their lives and their loves. But they don't need me. They would be sad if I weren't here, but they would thrive without me. I'm nothing; just a nobody with a ten thousand dollar a week booze and drug habit; a piece of shit that's fucked more whores and prostitutes than probably all four of my band-mates combined. I'm useless and I'm worthless and I think everyone would be better off without me.
He didn't stop, just walked over to the safe on the wall, behind the print of his favorite painting by Vincent van Gogh; "Starry, Starry Night". He always swore one day he would see the real painting, and he did. He dragged Emmett to the Museum of Modern Art the first time they were in New York City to see it. It was beautiful and spoke to him just as he thought it would.
"Well, looks like I'm almost as crazy as you," he commented to the painting, or perhaps to the painter, as he got out every bit of drugs he had left over. It was enough. It would do him in. It was sad, really, that he had to use his salvation to condemn himself, but what other choice did he have?
He took his items and went to his bed. As he sat upon it, he glanced over at his bookshelf. On it, sat the Bible Emmett's mom had given him when he was a boy. She always told him if he ever needed help, God would be there.
"But You aren't," he whispered. "You aren't here. If You were…You would have helped me! You wouldn't have let all of this happen to me! How can I believe in You when You don't believe in me?"
He didn't realize tears were running down his face until he saw them splash onto the baggie he held in his hand. "It's too late anyway. If I make it to Heaven, You and I can talk then…" he muttered as he went about getting out his supplies.
He had been using heroine for some time now, so he had a full supply of that. He knew how much was too little, and how much was too much. It would be easy enough to overdose on it.
Before he did this, though, he wanted to leave a note to them, to let them know what happened, and that it wasn't an accident. He went over to his desk and sat down, pulling out a piece of paper from the Garfield notebook Emmett had given him. He smiled at it as he felt another tear track streak down his face.
He picked up the pen and began writing;
To whoever gets this;
I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. I've tried, I've tried for so long to be happy, to make everyone else happy, to find myself, whatever the hell I should do, but I can't. I know I'm fucked up. I realize that.
I really hope this works and I'm dead by the time you find this. If I have to go through rehab or some shit, I'm going to be pissed.
Anyway, make sure the people that need to read this, read it.
To Emmett: Bro, I love you so much. You've been there for me when no one else has. You made me a better person, and you kept me alive all through our teenage years. If not for you, I'd have done this a long time ago. So, no matter what; don't you blame yourself for this shit. This is all on me, okay?
To Miya: Forgive me. I did wrong by you by trying to hold onto you when you were just trying to spread your wings and fly. I hope you fly far away and find what you're looking for. You'll always be my first love.
To Edward, Jake, and Carlisle: You guys rock and kick ass. Keep on doing it without me. Let Emmett sing some more than he does now. I know, he can be a pain in the ass, but he really does have some excellent pipes. Let him have some of my parts on the songs, alright?
To Phil: I know, you're pissed. I don't blame you. But, hey, think of all the publicity we'll get from this.
To the girls: Bella, Lyn, Esme, and Rosalie, you four are awesome. Do what you can to keep these guys in line, okay? They'll need you more than you can realize.
And finally, To Alice: I can't apologize enough. Yeah, I know, I should have done that before now, and to your face. What can I say? I'm a chicken shit. I think if I wasn't in such a bad place, we could have been something. I can only hope that maybe we'll meet again in our next life or whatever. So, I'm not going to ask you to forgive me. That's just asking too much. But I hope that one day you can say my name or see my picture without wincing in pain. I love you. I don't say that often, and not many people, but I do. I've loved you pretty much from shortly after that first time I met you and you kicked our ass in choreography for "As Long As You Love Me". God, to go back to that time…to be in a better place and realize what I could have had…I'm such a dumb ass. I go to my grave admitting it – I LOVE ALICE BRANDON. But it's too little too late, and now I'm gone. I hope you can find some semblance of happy in your life and I haven't fucked you up too bad. I couldn't handle that.
Love,
Jasper
He didn't bother re-reading the note, just carried it over to the bed and sat it next to the bag of drugs. He pulled off his belt and looped it around his arm, pulling it tight with his teeth until one of his veins popped up. Once that was done, he heated the spoon with his lighter, melting the rock of drugs down to a liquid. He pulled out a fresh needle and drew up the life-ending medication. With a flick of his finger upon the vein, he watched as it plumped up; juicy and eager for this final fix.
"If You exist," he muttered toward the Bible as he slipped the needle in his vein, "if I'm worth more than I think I am…then You will find a way to save me." And with that, he injected the drug into his system.
