Note: Warning for references to suicide attempts and suicidal thoughts.
Thomas was exhausted. It was only mid-morning but he felt like he had been working for non-stop for days. He hadn't been sleeping well, he didn't eat a proper evening meal last night either. He had only picked at some toast at breakfast this morning, he just didn't seem to have any appetite for food or anything much really. The things that usually made him smile no longer did, day to day tasks that he found satisfying to complete just frustrated him. He tried to have a smoke outside this morning like he used to do, he hadn't even thought about smoking in ages, but gave up when his hands were shaking from worry and weakness so much that he couldn't hold the lighter still enough. This was torture and it was killing him.
He buried his head in his hands, breathing shaky breaths into them, turning the palms of his hands moist. A knock on the door made him look up, and he tried to regain a little bit of composure. Andy walked in, pushing the door to, but not shutting it completely, "Mr Barrow, I was wondering if I can have a word?" Thomas sighed inwardly, this usually meant that someone wanted to complain about something or to ask for a favour and he wasn't in the mood for either.
"Yes, what is it?" Thomas asked, trying to remain professional.
"Well, um..." Andy hesitated, he wasn't sure if he had picked a very good moment to ask Mr Barrow for a favour. He looked exhausted and like he was about to fly off the handle at any moment. "Daisy has her day off on this coming Saturday and I was wondering if you would be able to move my day off to this coming Saturday too? I would like to take her out. Its been a while since we got to spend any time together." Andy held his breath, he wasn't sure why, but now he really did feel this was the worst time to ask for this from Thomas.
Thomas placed one hand on his forehead, half covering the frown on his face. His eyes directed down towards his desk when he sighed again, angrily. "I can't spare you on Saturday Andy and besides I can't keep granting you and Daisy all these special favours." Thomas uttered those last two words with an especially bitter tone. "If I keep favouring you two then I would have to do the same for every member of staff here. I mean, you two get to see each other every day anyway, and you would only have to wait another week or so until your days off match anyway. I'm sure you could manage to wait a week. I have no choice but to wait longer than you two or anyone else in this damn house ever will!" Thomas practically shouted that last sentence and Andy was left in shock. He's seen Thomas spiteful and moody but not like this. Never like this. He mumbled an apology for wasting Mr Barrow's time and quickly left the room before he could make the situation any worse.
Mrs Hughes happened to be walking down the stairs near Thomas' office, and had overheard the last of that conversation. Andy looked rather bewildered when he closed the door. "I'll see if I can talk to him for you and Daisy, Andy," Mrs Hughes said. "He's going through a lot right now. You know when Thomas feels scared and worried he reacts by acting out and taking his sadness out everyone around him," she said sadly.
"Thank you Mrs Hughes," Andy with a disappointed look on his face, before walking away.
...
Thomas instantly regretted his outburst towards Andy. He knew Andy didn't deserve one bit of his anger and worry. He wanted to run out there and take back every word he just said, but a small slither of pride stopped him. He stood up and paced around the room in frustration. Maybe Richard wasn't good for him, perhaps he wasn't meant to have him or anyone, if this is what a relationship does to him. Perhaps he was broken, that his attraction to men was a design fault. Maybe he really has been 'twisted by nature into something foul', as Mr Carson had said to him all those years ago. His mind wouldn't stop racing, every unwelcome thought that he had thought had gone away was coming back, out to get him, and he couldn't escape his own mind. He took of his jacket and in his anger threw across the room, where he heard the buttons collide with the cupboard door opposite him. If that wasn't enough, he picked up the glass on his desk that had previously contained whisky and threw that against the wall where its smashed, hundreds of shining glass pieces shattering and falling to the floor. He put his face to the wall, feeling tears start to build up in his eyes, then turned around with his back against the wall, where he slid down towards the floor and onto his knees. He hunched over, lowering his head to the ground and let the tears fall with uncontrollable sobs. He looked up for a brief moment, tears blurring his vision, and looked down to the raised scars on the insides of both his wrists. A reminder of how low he had once been before, and how it was nothing compared to the pain he felt now. A small evil voice in his mind told him, 'There is always a way out Mr Barrow. You found it once, you almost made it out before.' He never wanted to go back there. But at the moment he was beginning to give into the darkness.