So, all the mistakes are mine and all that jazz, I really want to thank you guys -the ones that take the time to read this, follow it, and review it, I really appreciate it and it warms my heart :) Here's the next chapter.
TW: Suicide, Self-harm, Violence (?) and yeah.
*I don't own Rizzoli & Isles, if I did, Maura would be married to Jane.
A pill to drain the shame
I am sitting on my couch, Maura sleeping like a log on my bedroom like she's been doing since she found me with my gun in hand, aiming at my heart.
Being so distracted by my thoughts, trying to find the courage to finish what I started, I didn't hear my phone ring and a few seconds later Maura entering my apartment, phone in hand and shaking in (what I later got to know) fear.
She burst into my room and let out a strangled gasp followed by a "Jane!" that made me drop the gun. No harm was done to any of us, just my wall.
Maura hugged me closely to her trembling body after she slapped me hard –she packs a really big slap- which brought tears to her face, letting out incontrollable sobs tangled with some mumbled sentences that included "thought I had lost you", "don't ever try this again", "you're my best friend" and "my life would be empty without you", sentences that made my heart leap of happiness and break at the same time.
After that night, Maura hasn't left my house in two weeks, five days, thirteen hours and-
I glance at the clock.
-twenty seven minutes.
Yes, I have been counting.
I don't know if I feel happy (and maybe…maybe, loved) that she's here or sad and frustrated that I can't try to kill myself because Maura took all my guns, knives, and everything she considered harmful or dangerous if they ended in my hands; packed them on an old bag I forgot I had and gave it to Rory –an old family friend of hers- when he dropped by to give Maura a few suitcases full of clothes and stuff she needed.
After Rory left, she asked me (more like demanded me to answer) all kinds of questions that went from "How could you do this?" and "Are you aware of the emotional pain that your dead would have inflicted in not only your family, but your friends and people that love you?" I scoffed when she mentioned the l-word, which she didn't hear or decided to ignore it before launching in a full (and boring) explanation of things that were related with suicide, PTSD, family, low self-esteem, among others that I can't recall because I zoned out.
I recognized that she was nervous, which made her rant about random facts and immersing in scientific explanations of everything she could think of.
When she was done talking, she refused to leave my side; sleeping with me and making sure that I never left her side to try and do something stupid.
Her words, not mine.
At first it was kind of cute, her worrying about me and making sure I had everything I needed, it almost made me change my mind. Almost.
But now it's so frustrating, not being able to do what I want, when I want and how I want it.
There's always a "Jane don't do this", "Jane you have to eat this instead of that", "Jane you can't be alone", "Jane I'm not leaving until I'm a hundred percent sure you're okay", "Jane you need to talk to your mother/brothers/partners"
I was sick of it, but I never complained.
The things one does for love, huh?
Twenty nine minutes.
I have been sitting in this damn couch for twenty nine minutes, trying to find a way to…
To…
I don't even know the words, I can't even explain the amount of anger that I feel.
I'm angry at Maura for saving me.
But, at the same time I'm ashamed of myself.
How could I do this to Maura?, I think while putting my head in my hands.
Everything was easier when she wasn't here; her life would be so much better if I wasn't here.
"You can't think like that Jane, you're my best friend and I love you" I can hear Maura's voice in my mind.
"But I love you too, Jane"
That's Hoyt's voice, he's here again.
I freeze.
He hasn't been here since that night.
Two weeks, five days, thirteen hours and thirty-one minutes ago.
"Think of something else Jane" I mumble to myself, only hearing my breathing and being slave of emptiness, finally recognizing what I've been denying through all my existence: all this time my happiness has being nothing more than a vile illusion.
The reality is that I'm prisoner of my own thoughts, memories, of who I am…
It feels good to recognize it.
I think a weight has been lifted off my shoulders by recognizing with assertiveness that my whole life, and everything that has happened along the way, was fault of my curse and at the same time my blessing.
I get up from the couch, trying to not make any noise that could wake Maura from her slumber.
I am gone, possessed.
I realize it by the heavy sound of my footsteps- or so they seem that way, I don't know anymore.
My body moves at its own accord, I can't control it anymore.
I leave it to do what it pleases, depriving myself from liberty; it was the drop that spilled the cup: being prisoner of not only my mind, but of my body too.
Should I ask for help? The answer was and will always be no, lots of people have tried to be that hero to save me from the abysm-to keep me from drowning- but no one has achieved it, they just manage to make me drown a little more.
Everyone but Maura, Maura is that ray of sunshine that manages to warm my stone cold heart; but even Maura can't pull me out of this thing that makes my thoughts run wild, that makes me like a puppet that can be easily controlled, if the right words are said and the right actions are made.
Every time I think about it, I get to the conclusion that it's the only way I can be saved from this living hell, from my stupid mind.
My body comes to a halt.
I realize I'm in the kitchen.
I blink.
What am I doing here?
I walk without hesitation to the shelf- the shelf of salvation- where I can gather what I need to shut up that voice in my head- my own voice, Hoyt's voice, our voices being just one- so I can stop those thoughts that swim around it with freedom, to stop the pain.
I open it- the orange bottle where the doctor's letter is predominant- and I look at it, but my eyes are blurry.
After a few moments, I realize that the blurriness is caused by my own tears that are rolling slowly down my cheeks.
I open the bottle.
I open my mouth.
I close my eyes.
Everything is silent.
Everything is dark.
Everything has stopped.
