I didn't take my meds today.
Two days ago Caitlin Adams asked if I was bipolar because I was into her on Monday but by Friday I had figured out that she was too demanding.
But those words, that question... it seeped into my soul and tarnished my tho...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
DEATH.
I've always embraced it, maybe a little too much. I wanted to die. It was the only way out of the pain. But now I was facing it, standing in the centre of a freeway and having pissed off cars swerve to avoid me in the lashing down rain.
The rain battered down on my skin. Puddles grew on the uneven road surface, disrupting the thin layer of fog sweeping across the ground. The brisk nighttime air cut through the fabric of my windbreaker and the water in my eyes rippled my vision.
But I could see him. Disorientated and confused in the middle of the road, flinching at each passing car.
He was a banshee, silently screaming for help and now everybody could hear his cry. There was a chopper rumbling through the sky, I couldn't see it but I knew it was growing closer.
"Fearne! They're coming!" He looked over his shoulder both ways, headlights blinding him from all directions. I pushed through the cars, skidding on sprinkled dirt coating the wet road.
My blood pressure dropped below normal standards, as cold as ice and trembling in fear. The cars around us slowed to a complete stop, flashing lights in the distance reflected in the ditch puddles.
"It's okay." I whispered, closer now I could see the unmistakeable fear in his eyes.
His hair had swooped down over his face, straightened out and dripped into his inky lashes. He seemed distraught, a look of abject horror. I pulled his bare body to mine and wrapped my arms around him, knees buckling as I clutched onto him.
"We'll fight them together." My skin felt lumpy with my lie, like my blood was coagulating inside of me.
As I caressed his wet hair I could see Jordan in the distance, creeping closer and closer slowly. Warning me into silence.
My heart wrenched, my guilt just a parasite, draining and sucking the life force right out of me. Jordan had company, a lean man wearing a white doctors coat and holding a shot with a death-like grip.
My pulse vibrated in my skull, from that one bloody spot and as the splashes of footsteps got within reaching distance I sucked in a deep, shaky breath, closing my eyes.
They grabbed him, abruptly pulling him away from my body. He fought back their hold violently, but Jordan pinned his hands behind his back and the doctor dosed him with the shot in his booty.
After a few seconds his movements slowed but before he slipped from consciousness completely our eyes met.
Cinnamon coloured eyes anchored my heart to his, teary, glassy and drugged but filled with hurt and betrayal. Gone was the playful Arlo, the guy who smirks at me and breathes sarcasm my way. Here was the Arlo who broke my heart with one simple look of hopelessness.
More men in coats brought over a trolley cot, lined with white harness straps and buckles. They lifted a heavily sedated Arlo onto the trolley and tightened the leather cuffs around his legs, wrists and stomach. Throwing a sheet over him to conceal his naked body, they then wheeled him away and I broke down.
