w.y-l.t.f.i-l.w.m | obx cast fan fic (au)

l.t.f.i - chapter one: silence speaks louder than words

tw: talk about disordered eating, death and suicide. read at your own risk. YOU are responsible for your reading consumption.

venice.

my mom died alone. i couldn't be there with her because it wasn't safe. and it angers me. if only people were more considerate. i had lost both of my parents in the span of six months. i didn't know how much more loss i could take.

i had been living in a three bedroom, three bathroom apartment in los angeles with rudy and drew. madison was supposed to move in with us, but she decided to live with someone else. was it awkward? awkward didn't even begin to describe the situation.

i split my time between the two. i hung out with drew and rudy equally. rudy was kind of upset about this. he felt that he should get more of my time. and he's right. but it was hard to split my time. and mourn my parents.

which brings us to the day i broke down. not a huge mental breakdown like before. just a minor one. i wouldn't eat, talk, leave my bed, or anything. i stayed in the the extra room we had. they both tried to get me out of bed. talk to me. get me to eat. i couldn't.

everything has just been eating away at me. the past year. my brain wouldn't quiet the noise. i did however, start journaling my thoughts. it helped. it kept my grounded. and it quieted the noise.

i was about to get up to journal when rudy entered my room.

"v?" he said softly. i didn't respond. i couldn't bring myself too.

"come on. you're worrying us. please at least eat something." he said. i'm sorry. i am.

"i'm going to make you something okay? i'll leave it on your desk." he said. he kissed my forehead and left. i felt a lump form in my throat. i wanted to scream. i wanted to yell. i wanted to run for the hills. but i couldn't. in a couple minutes, he came back with a sandwich and grapes and a bottle of water. he put it on my desk. he was about to leave when he stopped the open journal. don't read that.

he picked it up. and started skimming through. you're not going to like what you read in there. he started to read aloud.

"dear journal, writing to you has helped quiet the noise in my brain. before, my thoughts were swirling a mile a minute. now, they are more manageable. i still can't bring myself to speak. rudy and drew are worried. they check in on me. i want to tell them to give me a break. but i can't. i know they are just looking out for me and they're worried. i'd be too. but what they don't understand is that i've lost both my parents, moved to california, and had a mental breakdown within the span of six months. that's more than the average human goes through in a few years. let alone six months. i'm also scared. the virus is getting worse. and they are talks of filming season two later in the year. i don't want to die. at least at the current moment i'm writing this. that might change in the next five minutes. i know it's a scary thing. contemplating suicide. and a rather selfish thing. i have a roof over my head, a budding acting career, a boyfriend that loves me, a best friend that'll do anything for me. but i can't help it when my mind wanders to a place where i'd be with my parents. and with everyone in my life that has died that shouldn't have. i haven't thought about suicide since i had bulimia. it used to be about becoming skinny, but then it was stress induced.
it controlled my life and i thought that suicide would give me that control back. but i wouldn't. maybe that's why i think about it now. maybe somewhere in my mind i think it'll give me some of the control in my life back. but i can't help but think of everyone i would be leaving behind. the look on their faces when they discover my body..." he stopped reading. it was silent. the silence consumed the room. i told you you wouldn't like it. well i didn't...but i did.