The Sun is Gone

Chasm

Kurt's POV

"Kurt, you have to get help," Liz pleaded with me. Her worry made me feel disgusted with my horrible self. I had used, right there with her last night. Stupid. Stupid selfish moron. Now we were lying in bed, facing one another, in a bed that she was somehow still willing to share with me. I didn't understand. I didn't deserve her.
"I don't need to get help. I can stop, Liz."
"Then why did you do it last night? Why did you even have it with you?"
"Because my stomach..."
Liz cut me off.
"Kurt, you need to see a fucking doctor about your stomach, not self-medicate with fucking heroin!" She began raising her voice. I knew she was frustrated with me. I was frustrated with me. I hated being me. It was exhausting for a million reasons.
"Fine. I will see a doctor about my stomach," I agreed.
"And you'll get help?" She asked.
"Liz. I swear I can stop without help. I don't do it that often. Last night the pain was just really bad. Do you have any idea what would happen to me if the media heard about me getting treatment for drug use?"
"Do you have any idea what will happen to you if you keep doing this?" She demanded.
"I won't keep doing this!"
"You honestly expect me to believe that? Kurt, I can't watch you die. I can't do it." Liz couldn't hold her tears back anymore. It was breaking my fucking heart. I didn't know what to do.
"I'm not going to die, Liz."
"You have no idea how dangerous it is to do what you're doing, do you?" She sobbed. She was right. I shouldn't be subjecting her to this. She should never have to find me dead.
"Liz, I don't deserve you. You deserve better than this. Go back to Craig. He'll take care of you. I can't."
"Kurt. I want you. I want to be with you. And I want you to be okay."
"Do you, Liz? Do you really want to be with me? Because it seems like you wouldn't want to be seen with me, even if you were single. How do you think that makes me feel?" I knew I was taking a cheap shot, but I needed to walk away from this before I hurt her anymore than I already had.
"I don't like the spotlight, Kurt. I can't do it."
"But you pushed me towards this career."
"And I told you back then that I couldn't do it."
"Then why are you here now?" I demanded.
"I don't know. Because I love you even though I shouldn't."
"Well, I don't think our love is going to be enough to make it, Elizabeth. I don't see this ever working out." She cried harder now. I felt like my entire heart was being ripped from my chest. But I deserved to feel more pain than that. I deserved every ounce of pain my tormented mind could conjure up—every fucking fiery burn that constantly lived in the pit of my stomach—all of it, and worse. I was a living, breathing monster in human skin. I was a wretched pile of reeking garbage. I wished someone would beat the shit out of me. I wouldn't even fight back.
"I don't know what to say to that, Kurt," she answered very softly. I paused for a moment as she sobbed. I didn't want to leave her, but she deserved a better life than me—better than a life that she didn't want, and better than a life with a sorry-ass piece of shit who lied to her.
"I think we're done here then," I said in the coldest voice I could manage, climbing from bed and sliding on my clothes.
There was no other way to make this better. I didn't trust myself not to hurt her again. I couldn't make her a promise that I didn't trust my pathetic self to keep. So I would go away, before I did anything that would hurt her any worse. I would disappear from her life and eventually the pain I caused would go away from her too.
Liz was silent, tears streaming from her cheeks. She slowly nodded, in understanding, her hazel eyes boring into mine. We didn't need to say anything more to one another. We both knew that things ended here. We acknowledged it without words. It was less painful that way even though we both felt much more pain than we were showing.
I gave her one last glance as I donned my jacket. Then I turned and paced right out of the motel room. I slammed the door behind me out of anger—not with Liz, but with myself. Now I wouldn't have to feel the guilt of ruining anyone's life other than my own. And I was already thinking about the next place I could go to hide out and stick a needle in my arm. I needed not to feel. I needed to forget everything. I knew the self-loathing would follow. It was a vicious cycle. But at the moment I didn't care. I wanted an escape. I wanted to chase away every bit of pain I felt—and I didn't know if there were enough drugs in the world for that.