41 – Ianto

I have lived through my death many times. A death of my own choosing. The noose beckons to me, an old friend offering release. Pure and white, it gleams through the swirls of dust and fear in the garage. It waits for me, knowing I will lose to myself. The workbench below it draws my bare feet forward in shuffles against rough concrete. I fight my feet, but they keep moving. Now to climb. Each step up pulls me closer to the oblivion I seek.

My toes grip the top shelf, struggle for balance. I hope to fall, to save myself.

The tiny hope dwindles against the dark rising in me.

I reach for the noose, now my lifeline. Too worn to care it is a lie.

Do it. The voice says. Make the pain go away.

I whimper in response, lacking the strength to fight anymore.

I slide the noose over my head in a smooth motion. The texture of the rope brushes against my skin in a soothing, familiar touch.

Just give in. Just give in.

My bare toes grip the wood of the workbench, fighting of their own volition. They lose the battle, and I fall, the rope biting into my neck.

I jolt awake in a heavy sweat, instinctively reaching across the bed for my husband, Jack. His warm body stirs, woken by my moans.

"Just a dream, Ianto," he says automatically, the way he does most mornings when he is still here when I wake. He pulls me close, my head on his chest. I focus on his heartbeat, the rhythmic sound chases the dream away. I breathe in his scent of sleep, a mixture of man sweat and remnants of his cologne. When I sleep alone, I often hold his dirty t-shirts to me, surround myself with this smell.

I am alive for now.

Jack rubs my back, soothes me like a child. I cry against his chest. I don't want to die, I want to stay here with him. The voice has other plans.

Waking to nightmares doesn't surprise him anymore. Just part of being married to me I guess. He always holds me and calms me down, but he never asks what I see in them. I will never tell him, so better he doesn't ask.

If he knew the truth, he would stop loving you.

When I am clear minded, the voice sounds brutal, irrational. When I am dark-minded, I believe the lies. The last few months, I have been getting better, making small steps of recovery from my depression. The closer I climb to better, the harder the voice fights to keep me down.

The noose draws closer, more inviting every time. Sometimes I see it when fully awake. I go out to the garage to do chores and imagine it hanging.

It shimmers and calls to the dark part of my mind I desperately need to defeat but don't know how. The existence of the noose no longer terrifies me. The real terror is I am not afraid. The longing for it is my secret shame. The people I love would be hurt by the truth, so I hide it away. I force smiles and laughter to hide the pain.

I am awake now, and I don't want to think about it. I want to enjoy this moment with my husband. I am safe, for now. Jack senses I am calm now. His soothing hands begin to wander lower than my back. I giggle and push myself closer to his warm body.

"Since we are already awake," he teases. I welcome the distraction. My hands do some wandering of their own.

The alarm goes off, breaking our mood.

Jack turns off the alarm and sighs at the lost opportunity.

"Where are you headed today?" I change the subject to the day ahead.

"London. I will be back tonight."

Jack has told me he has a job with John, a little recon thing for a divorce case and he stretches as I know he will call me during the day to check on me as well.

I love that he can do small jobs, came home to me and the kids each night. If his job took him away for days at a time I would be lost.

I block that train of thought as I often do. I hate Jack being gone, but it's what we do now. The kids are not going to school today anyway. I will have them to create noise around me.

"What are you working on today?" he asks.

"I have to do the vacuuming and laundry." I wish I had more to tell. I realize my day is much less important than his, and hate myself for it. I push that thought away as well. Plenty of time to think later. I miss my shop but Jack is right, I am safer here right now.

"Why don't you wait until I get back and we can do them together?" he offers as he always does.

"Don't worry, I got it." Jack wants to help, but it's my job, the least I can do. We lay in silence a few more minutes, both of us aware we miss our own bed and our own house.

The kids will wake soon.

I have to shake off this funk.