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Psychotic Break-out

Chapter 11: Regret

Steve Sloan rubbed his teary and bloodshot eyes as he took a tentative sip of some hot and very strong coffee. He swallowed it and felt the liquid flow down his gullet towards his stomach, spreading warmth around his body as it went. He felt calmer all of a sudden. All this heartache - the crying, the shock and the anger – had ebbed slowly away.

Glancing up, he noticed his father some distance away, regarding him with considerable concern. He also noticed that he was at home, in his kitchen – how exactly had he got here? The last thing he consciously remembered was listening to Amanda talking in her soft voice about Yoshe, how she had died.

Nothing that could have been done…died within a matter of minutes.

Amanda's words drifted back to him as he stared at the coffee in front of him. Then it struck him, the first time he had been thinking clearly since he had heard the devastating news. He realised his huge mistake.

Jesse! He thought, the things I said to him! A sickening wave of guilt and self-reproach threatened to overwhelm him. His actions had been unforgivable - even withstanding the anger and grief he had been feeling – to lash out at his best friend, who had tried to save Yoshe's life.

Mark, standing some feet away from his son, immediately noticed a tangible difference in the way Steve was behaving. Maybe it was father's intuition, or maybe it was the fact that Steve looked as if he had just seen something so vile that it made him want to be sick.

"Steve!" Mark exclaimed as he rushed to his son's side. "What is it? What's wrong? Are you sick?"

Steve looked up him, eyes filled with pain and – and was that…guilt?

"Dad, the things I said to Jesse, I - " He stopped at the look on his father's face. "You know something don't you Dad?"

"I'm not gonna lie to you son. I could tell you that he was unaffected, but that would be a lie. He was pretty upset" Mark saw Steve's face fall. "But I know he will forgive you, in fact he was never mad at you in the first place! He was mad at himself, I told him it wasn't his fault but he - "

"Didn't believe you?" Steve finished for him. "I suppose what I said didn't exactly help! I have to see him Dad! I need to apologise!" Steve looked at his father almost pleadingly, as if asking for permission.

"Steve do you know what time it is? It's 3.00 am! I don't think you should go over there right now!" Mark wanted more than anything for things to be resolved between Jesse and Steve, but his son needed rest and he needed to be a father and look out for the interests of his son. "Besides, Jesse'll be asleep right now, we can go round first thing in the morning"

"But Dad - "

"First thing in the morning" Mark said firmly. "Now, I think you should get some rest"

Steve got resignedly to his feet. "Okay Dad, I'm going!" He walked over to the set of stairs leading down to his adjoining apartment and paused. "Night Dad" He said softly, before padding downstairs for the night.

"Night son" Mark said to the empty kitchen.

* * * *

Steve woke slowly and lazily, absorbed in a childlike world of warmth and safety. Bathed in glorious sunlight, he stretched his arms out luxuriously and knocked his alarm clock to the floor where it emitted a soft thump upon reaching the carpet floor.

He reached downwards to pick it back up again, but frowned as he read the digital numbers on the screen. The glowing red digits told him that the time was 11.00. 11.00! Why didn't Dad wake me?

Leaping out of bed he grabbed for his jeans – left in a clumsy heap at the foot of his bed the previous night – and a T-shirt. He threw them on, not caring about how loosely they hung on his lean frame, or how exhausted they made him appear.

"Dad?" Steve called as he raced up the stairs two at a time.

"Ah Steve! You're awake! I was just about to come down and wake you myself" Mark said in what he hoped was a cheerful voice. In reality, he didn't feel cheerful at all, but he was going to do his best to make sure that Steve felt comforted.

"Why didn't you" Steve muttered grumpily, suddenly spotting the table heaving with the weight of breakfast food that was laid upon it.

Mark followed his son's gaze. "I was making, uh, breakfast!" He dropped the act. "Look son, you clearly needed the sleep – I was looking out for your best interests. We'll have some breakfast and then we can go to Jesse's"

"I'm not hungry" Steve said stiffly. Mark could have predicted this answer as easily as he could have predicted that it would be a sunny day in Malibu.

"Have some toast at least" Mark cajoled, and eventually Steve relented – but it didn't stop him from ramming it down his throat as quickly as he could.

"Happy?" Steve asked sarcastically, he was less than pleased with his father, but on reflection it was probably more to do with the anger he had for himself than any he had for his father.

"I suppose" Mark said, sending a regretful glance back towards his cooking.

* * * *

Steve bounded up the hallway towards the door to Jesse's apartment; Mark followed a short distance behind. He was worried that Steve would run himself dry with guilt. Jesse would forgive Steve, Mark had no doubts about that, but Steve apparently did.

Once at the door, Steve hesitated and looked at his father for reassurance who nodded encouragingly, and he eventually plucked up the courage to knock. He took a deep breath and stepped back, ready to face his guilt – and his fear.

But nothing happened. Jesse did not answer the door.

Steve knocked again, this time louder.

"Maybe he's still asleep" he muttered. Jesse lying still in his own bed, heart barely beating. Cold. Blue.

"God Dad! What if it's happened again!" Steve panicked, remembering the last time he had stood outside Jesse's door, wondering why he did not answer. "We have to get in there! Now!"

Mark was shocked at Steve's rapid mood swing. "Steve calm down! Chloe's been gone for months now" But even Mark could not get rid of the sinking feeling in his stomach. He whipped out his mobile phone and rang Community General.

"This is Doctor Sloan, I'm looking for Doctor Travis, is he in the hospital today?" Mark asked urgently, hoping, praying…

"No, Doctor Travis isn't on shift until 6.00 this evening, and he hasn't signed in" The receptionist replied after a few moments.

"Okay, thank you. Oh, and if he does turn up would you tell him that I'm looking for him? Thanks" Mark hung up the phone uneasily. "Let's try the landlady" he suggested after a pause. Steve nodded dumbly, then followed his father down the hallway to the landlady's apartment.

"No, I haven't seen Jesse" she answered after being asked by Mark, "I heard him come in pretty late last night, and I haven't seen or heard him since"

She saw Mark and Steve's faces fall, and then she softened. "I can let you into his apartment if you like, I mean there was that business earlier on with him overdosing. He just works too hard!" she disappeared inside her apartment to retrieve the master key and then led them back up the hallway.

Steve huffed impatiently as she fumbled with the key, and pushed his way inside when the door was finally opened. Mark thanked the lady outside as Steve went on a mini rampage throughout the small apartment. Jesse was nowhere to be found.

Mark stepped inside the living room as soon as the landlady had returned to her own home. His attention was immediately grabbed by a piece of folded paper lying on the coffee table. He cautiously picked it up, afraid of what it might show. His eyes scanned the two small paragraphs written in Jesse's handwriting and he gave an involuntary gasp.

Steve having heard the noise came rushing back into the living room. His father's face had drained of colour, and his hands shook as he silently held out the paper for Steve to read.

Can't go on like this.

How can I?

Life just doesn't seem worth living.

Obviously I don't deserve to live anyway.

Even though I didn't actually kill her, it feels like I did.

Help is not possible for me.

Ending my life is the only option.

Let's hope my friends and family can forgive me.

Please don't try to stop me, by the end of the day I will be gone.

Jesse Travis

Steve's shocked eyes met those of his father's. Without uttering a syllable they raced for the door.

To Be Continued…

Things are not all as they seem! There is a clue in the note!