Chapter Text
Keith was leaving today. The guy who I had grown to love like a brother across the course of the past month was healing, he was doing way better in terms of most things. Obviously he wasn’t the same as before everything happened, and he’s definitely not healthy just yet, but I’m so proud of him, he’s healthy enough to leave this shitshow, he's less of the gaunt guy I met when I first came here, sleeping more, eating more, and he was depressed less often, his depressive episodes not hitting him as hard as they used to. I’m gonna miss him, but I’m so happy and proud of him for making it and reaching this milestone.
“I’m gonna miss you” He said, giving me a hug
“Me too, but I’m so proud of you, you did it! You should be so proud, you worked so hard. The journey isn’t over but you’re halfway there, just hold on. You’re such an amazing person, so persistent and resilient, I know you’re gonna dig yourself out of this rockbottom, even if all you have is a spoon, you're a stubborn little shit like that and I love you for it”
“You’re gonna make it, trust me, just hold tight and don’t give up. I know I can’t be talking much and not to make it about anyone else but you, but if I find out you died, I don’t think I’d ever be the same, no one will, you change lives, and in a good way”
I hugged him, nice and tight and he did too, before we let go and said our goodbyes, promising to see each other again. And then I was alone.
It had been a few days since I started taking medication for my anxiety and nightmares, and I wasn't really seeing a difference, the nightmares were still shitty and I was hypervigilant of everything around me, what’s new?
The urge to relapse wasn’t gone, but it was so strong, like I desperately wanted to relapse, just to feel a cool blade slide against my skin and rip it open, to feel anything but the urgent need to die. Every moment I spent without relapsing was pure and utter agony.
Naturally I didn’t tell Cassie other than that first time nearly a week ago, so supervision was going down from one on one to line of sight, so I had more leeway to find something to cut and my creativity never lacked in that department.
I sat in the rec room alone, watching Magnus play ping pong with someone else I didn’t know and I was zoned out in the corner, hugging my stuffed bear against my chest to soothe the painful dysphoria of it being there, trying to ignore the horrible back pain from the idiotic ways I’ve tried to bind (suffocating is not fun); I was almost completely numb, just wondering why I didn’t kill myself years ago. I had no friends, no parents (that I knew loved me), no siblings, no one depended on me, if I had just ended things all then I wouldn’t be stuck in the shitshow that’s my life now.
I wanna die so badly. I have a million and one plans floating around my head on how I could die, how it’d feel, how people would react, and how fucking selfish it would be but I don’t care cus I fucking deserve it, the only thing I truly deserved was to watch the world fade to black and wander the fields of Asphodel for life, I wasn’t a hero afterall, just a stupid healer, never did shit and never will. Most self pitying thing I’ve ever thought but I also didn't care, my life’s gonna end soon whether its in my hands or the mental illness slowly consuming my brain from the inside.
Despite all the improvements i’ve been experiencing, nothing gold can stay, I’ll never be happy properly, I’ll just have to live through the ups and downs, how quickly they change, how fast my mood can flatline.
“It seems you’re in a depressive episode” Cassie said one day, looking at a sheet of paper in her hands with a strange expression.
“But I don’t even have depression, how could I be in a depressive episode if I don’t have depression?”
“Firstly, anyone, with or without depression, can fall into a depressive episode due to massive amounts of stress, pressure, trauma, or other factors, and secondly, I have reason to believe you may have depression, you exhibit a lot of the key diagnostic symptoms so please just fill in this form with complete and absolute honesty”
I took the form and skimmed through the questions, recognizing them from one of the millions of ancient text books I’d read.
For a second I questioned the amount of honesty I truly wanted to put into this form, then remembered the reasons i had to live for and colored in what was probably the most depressing test I’d ever taken(worse than the english test I got an F on)—the irony hasn’t failed me yet.
I silently tried to calculate my score, then fucked up thrice and gave up—math is hard.
The woman read through the form, scribbling a few things down before looking up at me with sad eyes.
“Based on these results, you do have depression” she said solemnly
I sighed, another one on the roster. I was just exhausted with everything about my life, just wanting to curl up and cry.
Cassie sucked a breath through her teeth, looking a bit sad.
I was so tired, everything was happening at the same time, life felt like it was on three times speed since the day everything came out, the day Cecil Markowitz died in the comfort of camp, the day I failed everyone I’d ever loved in every way shape and form.
“Would you rather we do self-soothing instead of a proper session? You seem to be in a lot of distress and you need to learn how to cope properly with negative emotions”
“I’m guessing taking a blade to my skin isn’t one of them” I muttered under my breath.
“No it isn’t, you have to learn new coping methods that aren’t self destructive and instead help you.”
“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” I said, laughing tiredly at the whole situation, “But that sounds fine I guess”
“So, is there anything in specific that brings you comfort and then we can work our way from there”
“Uh I guess I really like my stuffy, Frank, sweaters but especially ones from Nico, small spaces if I’m not panicking, talking about my interests, sometimes running, and music, I really like listening to music”
She smiled at me warmly then said:
“We can capitalize on that, whenever you’re feeling bad, you can just use one of those methods or even all of them. Do you want to do any of those things now?”
☼–꥟–☼
Relapse was inevitable but I wasn’t expecting it to hit as hard as it did.
It had only been a few minutes since I’d gotten out of therapy and I was getting antsy, my head throbbing with another migraine and my wrists reminding me how easy it was to relapse.
Just had to wait till no one was watching, which was hard but achievable with some lying. I’d told Cassie that I was feeling much better after the session and she agreed to let me have half an hour alone so the clock was ticking.
My bag was re-searched after the pen incident but there was still bound to be something in there, so I dug and dug and found a shard of glass at the absolute bottom of a hidden pocket which was probably left unsearched. The shard was probably from when I broke..well i dont really know I broke a lot of things but it finally came in hand for once.
The room was basically empty apart from the disappointment radiating off the walls, I had twenty minutes to relapse and hide it.
I shuddered at the idea of bringing that sharp edge to my own being, the gentle elation at the anticipation of torn skin and the pain, oh the pain, its just amazing.
And it was, it was the most alive I’d felt in a while, slice after slice, littering my once healed wrist with fresh cuts, shredding up the toughened skin. Blood pooled on my wrist, then fell onto the floor, onto my legs and crusted on the edge of the shard. The pressure of going deep was beautiful, I deserve the pain, it’s so nice.
Cuts everywhere, both wrists making their way up to my arms, each slash more painful than the other, each slice numbing my mind more and more. And I grew faint but it didn’t matter, I couldn't stop now, not ever, this was the one thing that kept me grounded, the second I stopped I was annoying, I didn’t have the same energy levels, I even went into depressive episode, but the feeling of pain, the sensation of having the control to hurt myself in a way no one else could, it was like a high, and I was addicted.
Addicted so bad I sliced over my veins, the skin parting then slowly pooling with blood. I continued nevertheless, enjoying the pain, forgetting where I was cutting.
Black tinted my vision from the edges and blood dripped, not slowly anymore, but in many quick drops, pooling and making me lightheaded.
I finally put the shard down after running it over my veins multiple times, watching the blood slowly pool and leave my body.
If this had been the end I would’ve been fine with it.
But it wasn't, as I sat on the room floor, arms cut up, blood all over the floor and my hands, I felt a warmth, then the rays of my dad. Then I cursed across English, ancient Greek, and Italian