A/N: I'm going to be gone all weekend, so I decided to post this up since I'm leaving for Ocala now... I hope you guys are enjoying this!
Chapter 02 – Darkness
Blonde lashes fell over onyx colored eyes, the air around him whirled rapidly around him; books, papers, and miscellaneous objects whipped around him his jaw set, his fist clamped the rage within him finally settled down. Blinking the onyx faded to a natural crystal blue.
He had come home for the weekend, something that he didn't do on a normal basis. He liked to stay as far away from this hell hole as possible. Something egged him to come here though; in the back of his mind he felt compelled to come home.
Walking through the door he knew it had been a mistake. The house was dark; there wasn't an ounce of light as he stepped through the foyer. It was until he was in good view of a room he hadn't dare go in since his father's death that he finally saw light.
The door was ajar and the light on his desk was leaking in to the hallway. He slowly entered the room that had once housed all of his father's works. From his best cases to his artwork, the room was like a shrine to Joseph Garwin.
A pair of dulling blue eyes set on him, his jaw clenched seeing the bottle of amber liquid sitting in a cup, a bottle of prescription pills lying next to it, its contents spread across the mahogany desk. The blonde tightened his hands in to fists as he stormed out of the room.
He came home to this.
Every time he came home, this is what he saw. His mother strung out on her pain medication, or on her anti-depressants that she mixed with booze. She never talked to him, didn't dare look at her own son for more than five minutes.
"It hurts," She had said once to him after he asked her why. He had only been twelve then, and she told him that it hurt her too much to look at him.
He reminded her too much of his father; a man who lead a selfish life. Reid looked and acted just like him and it drove Meredith Garwin to the brink. He had watched for the last eight years as she drank and pill-popped her way through the pain.
Reid pressed his eyes shut, trying to will away the thoughts of yesteryears and the pain that it had all caused him. He slammed his fist in to a nearby wall and didn't feel the pain. He had been drinking. He had washed away his sorrows, like his mother had.
He summoned the power and his room went back to the way it was before he had decided to tear it apart; an in a blink there was a bottle materialized on his dresser. He grabbed it and tore the lid off, gulping down the contents not bothering to wince as it burned its way down his throat.
What had driven him to this point again? He asked himself as he stared over at the stand beside his bed. What was causing this insatiable urge to pick it up one more time?
To slide it across and let the pain seep out on to the wooden floor like he had so many times before?
His fingers grasped the bottle one more time, slinging his head back as the liquid burned his throat, but eased the pain that he felt internally. He bit his lip hard after setting the bottle on the nightstand, a shaky hand reaching out to pull open the top drawer.
Just one more time, he thought to himself. Just for ol' time's sake.
He wanted the pain he felt, the anger, the remorse to go away. That's when he saw it, lying there as it had so many other times. Shiny, sharp and begging to be used.
Just one little cut; one little scratch to make it all go away.
"For tonight," He muttered to himself.
He wrapped his long, bony fingers around the silver piece of metal. He hadn't used it in a long time, Tyler had caught him. Tyler asked him to get help, he had been genuinely concerned, as had Caleb and Pogue when they found out.
He had been embarrassed for them to find out, but knew that it would have happened sooner or later. He hadn't told them the full truth then, and he never planned on it. It was something he felt like he couldn't share, because they just wouldn't understand.
Not with their perfect lives, he thought bitterly.
Taking a deep breath, he took the blade and with one swift movement he let the razor sharp edge bite across his scarred wrist. He winced slightly; he had felt the knick for the first time in a long time. It was sharp, and nearly brought him to a sober state of mind.
He didn't feel that immediate release that he had always felt when he cut. Taking the blade in to his opposing hand he took another deep breath and let it slice his less frequented wrist to relieve the pressure. Dropping the blade he felt the warm sensation down his arms, the blood flowing freely down his arms.
His eyes grew heavy, and he couldn't see straight anymore. He let out a ragged cough feeling his entire body shutting down; the only thing he could remember was a guy's voice shouting his name, before everything slipped in to darkness.
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