A/N So I got some ideas last night, which means a speedier update than expected. Yay!
I would like to take a moment to thank my awesome reviewers! PizzaTop21, emmyloser, RainTastesGood, BigTimeGleekBTR, Anonymous Skrtle, bigtimerangergirl123, CandySmile, LinaRush, happygirl57, and Miss. Whatshername1, especially for your comment about the BTR boy's friendship being tighter than the Jo Bro's pants! That was great! Thank all of you so so much for motivating me!
And a big thanks to mcgeeklover, who gave me an idea for this chapter. Good one!
Breakdown
Chapter 13: Confusion
The sky was bluer than he'd ever seen it. The grass under him was lush and soft. There was a gentle breeze, stong enough to ruffle his hair a bit, yet not so harsh that it made his lucious chestnut locks whip around his head in a tangled, uncontrollable mess.
Everything was silent. And peaceful. He couldn't remember ever feeling so at ease.
All he could see was the puffy white clouds in the crystal clear sky and the sun shining down on him, bright and comforting and warm. The only sound that reached his ears was his shallow breathing. It was growing less and less distinct. Suddenly he couldn't hear his inhales and exhales anymore. Instead, they were replaced by a terrible, ear-piercing screech.
"We're losing him!"
"Charging. Clear!"
"Nothing."
"Charging again. Clear!"
"Come on, come back. Clear!"
"We got a pulse!"
"Get the stomach pump."
What are those voices? Why are they saying that? It's like a medical show when someone's dying. Wait, am I dying?...
Then the thoughts and voices faded, and it was silent again, but not nearly as peaceful.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
James reached out an arm and fumbled for his alarm clock, but he couldn't get his arm very far before it flopped back down onto the covers of his bed. Just that tiny movement had James feeling completely spent. What the hell was going on?
Then he realized his alarm didn't beep like that.
He opened his heavy, rusty-feeling eyes and instantly squeezed them shut again, wincing at the blinding light that threatened to destroy his retinas. Cautiously, James lifted his eyelids again and blinked rapidly until he could bear the intense brightness.
His mind was confused and muddled, his movements sluggish. Seriously, what was this? Why did he feel like he'd just woken from a one hundred year nap?
Before he could take a moment to look around and determine where he was, a sudden pain in his stomach had James bolting upright and leaning over the side of the railing of the bed, retching.
James soon discovered that he had nothing in his stomach to bring up, and so he experienced painful dry heaves for a minute before he flopped back against his pillows, stomach slowly calming. As painful as dry heaves were, James was glad he hadn't had anything to throw up all over the...hospital bed?
What did I do now? were James' immediate thoughts, as he had often pulled stunts that landed him in the hospital in the past. Same with Carlos.
But this was not one of his and his Hispanic friend's ordinary jump-off-the-roof or ride-a-shopping-cart-down-the-street-contest kind of stunts. This he'd done to himself, by himself.
But what did I do? Is it Carlos, too? Is he here in another room? Ugh, why are we so stupid? Why can't I remember?
And then he did. It suddenly all came rushing back to him in an overwhelming wave of memory. The deal with Hawk, the trip to the psych ward, the brotherly conversation with Kendall, then the sickness, the running away from Rocque Records, the nasty fight...the overdose. The suicide attempt.
A whimper escaped James' sore throat. He suddenly wanted nothing less than to be alone. He didn't want doctors surrounding him, poking and proding and asking invasive questions. Despite their obvious anger toward him, James wanted-he needed- them to be here, by his side, reasurring him.
Thinking that made James feel guilty. How should he expect them to come in here and smile at him and tell him they forgave him and loved him and knew everything was going to turn out okay when he'd stabbed them all in the back? Or at least had intended to.
Did they even come? James wondered next. Who found me? Where are they? Did they drop me off here and leave? Or did someone else find me and they don't even know?
James let his eyes slide shut again as he considered. Even if they did know, they probably weren't here. James couldn't brainstorm a reason as to why they would bother showing up. They hated him now, they were likely glad he had done this.
James opened his eyes again, and tears began to fill them, brimming over until they cascaded down his face in a bitter waterfall of anguish. What had happened to him?
James had asked himself the same question just seconds earlier, but now he was looking at the big picture. Not just what had happened that landed him in the hospital. What had happened to him, as a person? When had his life taken a turn for the worse?
You know when, idiot. It was when you turned your back on your friends the first time.
Maybe why was a better question.
Why had this happened to him? He was a good person. Sure, he could be a little self-centered, a little narcissistic most of the time, but that didn't mean he neglected the feelings and opinions of others, especially those of his friends. It wasn't true. There was a time when any of his friends would say that James was the most caring, selfless person they knew. You just had to crack through the hard, egotistical surface. The problem was, that was no easy task. He was a Diamond, after all.
The bottom line was, anyone who knew James as well as Kendall, Logan, and Carlos, which was no one, would know for a fact that James' stubbornness and ambition was what made him so special. He had more drive and passion than anyone else the other three had ever met.
So what defined him as a bad person? Because James knew there was no way any good, wholesome person deserved this.
Oh, please. Take a look at yourself, kid. You're not wholesome. You screwed your best friends over, and now you're sitting here wallowing in self-pity, wondering what in the heck you did that could have possibly made karma seek you out and strike you down.
James internally flinched. Harsh. But his conscience had a point. Maybe he did desverve this. All of it, the disorder, the loss of friendship, the near-death experience. It was certainly opening his eyes wide enough so that he could see all the damage he'd done in the past week, to him, and his friends, and the band. And their careers. All of it. His life, his career, his relationships, all down the toilet, because he couldn't control himself.
And now his dignity, because there was no way he was getting away with trying to kill himself without the public finding out. Someone had probably alterted the media about an ambulance arriving at the Palm Woods. Then the paparazzi had come, snapped pictures, figured out the story, and had gone off to publishers to get the story in the paper right away. And all the while his ex-bandmates had been thinking, Serves him right. That was how it went down in James' mind, anyway. He couldn't quite trust his thoughts at that moment. His mind was still fuzzy.
Now James used this time to glance around the room. It was nothing special. White and plain and boring. He was hooked up to several machines, some beeping, some whirring, none of them quiet. He didn't fail to notice that there weren't even any get-well balloons or cards.
Yeah, cause what would someone who hates your guts write on a get-well card? Just kidding? Good effort on trying to kill yourself? Happy suicide-day?
James tried to groan, but it got caught in his throat and triggered a coughing fit. Man, why did his throat hurt so much?
When James finally caught his breath, he was aware of someone rushing in the door. "My goodness, you're awake!" a flabbergasted female voice cried.
James looked up to see a young looking doctor who he would have found attractive had he not been choking and gagging. "Y-yeah, I am..." His voice sounded hoarse and raspy to his ears, and he felt funny speaking, as if he hadn't done so for a long time. "Can I have some w-water?"
The nurse, still wearing an expression of bewilderment and amazement, nodded. "Hold on one second, sweetie." Then she ran out the door.
James frowned. Remind me not to ask you for any favours.
But she was back in a second with two other doctors. She got him his water and instructed him to take small, slow sips, while one of the other doctors, another female, began checking his vitals and scribbling stuff down on a chart. The third doctor, this one a middle-aged male, patiently waited for him to finish his water. The first doctor took the empty paper cup from him when he was done.
"James, I'm Doctor Anderson," the male doctor introduced himself. He motioned to the second doctor, who was still writing on the chart. "This is Doctor Donovan." She looked up and gave James a brief smile. "And Doctor Hill. If you don't mind, I need to ask you a few questions. Are you feeling up to that?"
James nodded.
"Alright. First of all, how are you feeling? Any pain, discomfort, confusion?"
James took a moment to consider. "No pain, but my throat feels scratchy and I feel really weak. And I'm confused as to where any of my friends or family are."
Doctor Anderson pressed his lips together. "Well James, your throat feels funny because we just took the breathing tube out earlier this morning. I'm not surprised you don't remember that, you were barely lucid. Now, what I'm about to tell you may be unsettling."
"What? What is it?"
Doctor Anderson glanced back at his acquaintances before he replied. They looked slightly nervous.
Doctor Anderson turned back to James. "Mr. Diamond, when you first arrived here, you were half-dead from a severe overdose."
James nodded shamefully at the memory, his stomach doing flip-flops at hearing the words aloud.
"Your heart rate was extremely low. We lost you twice, but obviously managed to revive you. However, you became unresponsive while we were moving you to the OR to pump the drugs from your stomach. After the procedure was complete, you slipped into a comatose state." Doctor Anderson cleared his throat and focused his eyes on James'. "You've been in a coma for three and a half weeks."
Holy crapper. It's so short and uneventful, I know. My mind doesn't want to be creative it seems. How sad. :(
Anyway, I'm sorry it's not what you expected, I'm sure. I sorta like it, just not the lenght. Next chapter WILL BE BETTER!