Love And Abandonment

getting you clean!

Weeks have passed in the efforts of getting pete clean, with help from hero and John but, Colson hasn't showed his face since the night of the shrooms. I can't help but feel wrong for the willingness to help pete, when I never once bothered to help my mom. I keep trying to rationalize it, thinking that her death is the reason I'm helping him, but its not, I know its not. All the years I held such a pure hatred for her because of what she put me through, but I didn't see that she was sick, and needed me to be what I'm being for pete. Instead I constantly reminded her that she was nothing more then a junkie, and irredeemable, why? Why couldn't I just understand that she was in a bad place as easily as I did for pete?

"Bexley,  are you even listening?" An anxious hero screams across the room as pete pukes over his lap into a trashcan.

"Sorry just lost in thought" I say staring at petes lifeless face, and for a moment we make the smallest of eye contact, yet still no life can be seen within them. He looks so drained of it, and now that I think about it all the signs were there. The dark circles under his eyes that I always assumed was from lack of sleep, his sunken cheeks, how thin he was and continues to get, his lack of appetite, his constant shudders from what i assumed was the SNL central air, it was all there yet nothing,  nothing clicked in my dead, rotting mind, all I did was rationalize it. Part of me believes I knew, I just didn't want to accept that's exactly what it was.

"Get her out of here, she's been through this shit to much, I'm not her mess to clean up" and hero looks at me for what I can only assume is some sort of confirmation.

"You're right pete,  you're not my mess to clean up" I say and he looks so hurt to hear me admit it " but you're my friend, and right now my main focus is on getting you clean! despite how I might feel about this, I will continue to help you regardless of your concent, and this isn't rehab so quite frankly I don't need it" and with that his face regains as much color as it can for the state his in.

"Can you walk me over to the bed? I think I need to sleep for a while." Pete says so dryly that dust practically forms around his mouth as the words leave his lips. God he looks so bad, and I can't help but feel angry with him for allowing himself to get this way, but I remember what that anger did to me and my mom, and if I let it control me again pete will share the same fate,  and I can't, I just can't go through that again. Am I selfish for thinking that? I know he thinks I'm doing this because I have sympathy for him, but it's not. I'm doing it because I physically can't go through any of that again, I'd mentally break. Not because we're close, but because I seen what death looks like for them, and it happens long before they're lying in that cold wooden box. Images of my mothers lifeless eyes, the sirens from the ambulance carrying her away for the last time, hero fighting Russell, and the night I claimed her body at the hospital morgue flash through my mind in scrambles, and before I know it I'm sick to my stomach running for the nearest exit of the small apartment that pete calls his. The moment I'm out the door, I feel the crisp air hit my face, and its only then that I know I'm still alive in there somewhere. I know things have gotten dark since the night we all tripped out, but things changed the moment I found out. I genuinely gave up with my career, and haven't felt much of any emotion other then anger through out the weeks hero, John, and myself have been with pete.  I laugh and do things like I normally would,  but it's all as hallow as the feeling that stayed in my chest and stomach since that night. You can tell, I know you could but, they're all to sweet to address it. So instead they pretend right along with me, as I slip closer towards the edge, but there's still the smallest part of me still inside, screaming with so much plea for someone to save her, as she scratches her way to the surface, I wonder what's taking her so long.

"Why did you run off? I had to undress him myself, and I think we both can admit two straight men should never be that close" he laughs and I follow in suit with the the same emptiness I referred to earlier. Really, am I okay? Shouldn't I know it I was? Maybe that's my answer, but I'm just not seeing it.

"Helloooo is anyone in there?" He remarks waving his long fingers in my face.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine" I say as more of a question.

" I asked why you ran out like that? Are you sure you're alright love, you've seemed so far away recently. Every time I look at you, you seem so lost in thought, and I can't help but wonder where you go" he says with genuine concern, but I didn't care enough to answer with as much care as he put into his words.

"Just exhausted is all" I say with a dry mouth, and my voice cracks.

" I think I know you well enough to know something wrong,  I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice,  I mean for fuck sakes Bexley you look as bad as pete." He says with the intention to crack me, but even that doesn't break through this shell I've put myself in unknowingly, why can't I fucking fix this? I don't even remember when I fully slipped under the surface of my real self, but I can't for the life of me, or lack there of, figure out how to break through it.

"Bexley talk to me" he says cupping my cheek,  and I'm so glad he did because with every stroke of his hand across my skin, he breathed life back into, and without realizing it, im a sobbing putty of tears in his arms, and against his chest.

"Hero I feel so hallow, like a giant metal box with all its inside belongings taken out. Heavy yet weightless, and I can't grasp it. Every time I see his face I see my mom,  and everything I couldn't do for her, but somehow manage to do for pete. Ever since that night I can't get rid of the image's of her lying there, nor the feeling of complete and utter lack of any other emotion but anger. I've felt nothing but anger my whole life,  and right when I felt like things were getting better she dies, and even then I seen it as a new start, one with no ties. How come it took hearing pete admit he was an addict to get me to feel this way? I should've felt this for her, I should've helped her the way I'm so easily helping him, she was my mother hero and I treated her death like it was just another moment in my life to forget. I made her believe she was past the point of saving when I could've fucking helped her. She'd still be here if I would've just accepted her wrongs, and fucking helped her, she's dead because of me..."

"DON'T FUCKING SAY THAT!" he screams at me and I jolt away from him in shock.