Chapter Text
Waiting for Jason and Nico to come back was awful. For the first time in a long time, I could feel how close I was to giving in to using pain to cope. Sure, Jason got rid of the obvious tools, but this room wasn’t set up to prevent self-harm. There were opportunities if I wanted them. Forcing myself to breathe through the temptation was harder than usual.
I was doing my best to ignore the fact that I couldn’t keep my hands from shaking. If I really thought about what I was about to put myself through, I’m not sure I would force myself to do it.
When I heard the door open and saw Jason come in alone, I tried not to panic. “Nico would like to know if you want him here or not. He will set everything up for reporting regardless.”
“He should stay,” I knew nothing would be fixed by shutting Nico out.
Jason turned around and left. It took forever for him to come back, and when he did, he didn’t have Nico with him
“Where is Nico?” I couldn’t keep the nerves out of my voice. I hope he didn’t hate me.
“Don’t panic. He is making a few IMs so you can report what happened.”
I calmed slightly. “Oh, how did he take everything?”
“He’s devastated,” Jason said, not sugar coating.
I’m not sure what reaction I was hoping for, but that wasn’t it. “Is he mad?”
Jason came and sat beside me. “I think he was surprised by the drug use, but was working through his emotions about it when I told him about the rape.” I winced. “I’ve never seen him more upset, but I don’t believe that was directed at you. He is probably going to want a few minutes to get it together before making those IMs.
We sat in silence, waiting for Nico to come back. I was feeling my want for drugs turn into a physical need as I was sitting there. Being honest with myself, I’d become an addict. I shouldn’t have used as much, or I should have at least spread it out and not gotten myself dependent on the stuff. The physical and psychological withdrawals were going to be a nightmare, and I’m not sure I had the resolve to go through with it. My desire to fix what I had broken was dropping every minute I didn’t have drugs.
When I turned 18, Holly, Nico, and I reviewed and modified my safety plan as we did every 6 months to a year to keep it relevant. That meeting had had more changes than most because I no longer had a guardian who could force me to get help if things got out of hand. Prevention plans and a litany of response plans were created. If I had just followed those, I wouldn’t be in this position. This didn’t happen overnight. Things had been spiraling for months. I was here because of a hundred little choices. I honestly couldn’t trust myself to make decisions in my own best interest anymore, and that only left the nuclear option.
“Jason, can you still notarize documents?” I forced myself to ask. I couldn’t believe it had come down to what I was about to do.
He looked at me, confused, before responding, “Yes.”
I had been taking a medical forms and documents class this summer, which meant I had a notebook full of every medical form imaginable. I went to my desk and started looking through the forms to find the one I needed. I’d never kept a copy in my journal like Holly said because I never thought I would need it. I started filling the form out, trying not to think too hard about what I was actually doing, so I didn’t back out. After filling out the form, I handed it to Jason for his signature.
Jason reviewed the document for several minutes before speaking. “Will, are you aware of exactly how much you are signing away here? For the next 90 days, Nico would have full control of all medical decisions for you. I mean everything. You can’t take Tylenol without his permission.”
“I know what I’m signing,” I said, resigned.
“Why?” He asked, confused.
“Because I no longer trust that I can make the right decisions regarding my own welfare. If I get 12 hours into withdrawals and decide I can’t take it anymore, nothing is stopping me from leaving and getting high. Any treatment program or plan I decide to try, I can quit the second I think it’s too hard. I’ve read about how awful withdrawals can be, and it scares the shit out of me. I’m only getting a taste of them at the moment, and I’m reconsidering quitting already.
Before texting you, I was deciding between reaching out for help and intentionally overdosing.” Jason looked startled. “Holly, Nico, and I had a discussion a while ago about what to do if I ever let things get this bad. Signing over my medical decision-making power to Nico is the plan of last resort. The second I objectively stop acting in my own best interest, Nico can ask me to sign it over or sue for it in court, and he has the documentation to win. If it’s all the same to you, I would prefer to spare myself that particular humiliation.”
Jason nodded and sighed. “Will I know this is tough, but I’m proud of you.” I couldn’t bring myself to respond.
A few minutes later, Nico entered. He didn’t look angry. He looked extremely sad. “I’m sorry.” It was the only thing I could say.
Nico came and sat by me on the bed. As he put his arm around me, he said, “I know.” Somehow, that response gutted me far more than a reprimand would have. “I’m sorry you were raped.” It was a simple acknowledgment of something so horrible. The lack of blame or pity and the willingness to address the issue straight on meant more than words could ever describe. He was here, and he was staying.
“I signed the paperwork,” I said after another minute of silence. Jason grabbed the paper off my desk and handed it to Nico. I heard a relieved sigh.
“Thank you. I’ll take care of you, Will. I’ll get you help.” Hearing those words was the first time in quite a long time that I thought things might turn out okay, and I wasn’t alone in this.