anxious and alone |dnf|

oh clay

TW: drugs, addiction, anxiety, depression, slight talk about blood, withdrawal symptoms, overdose and symptoms, ambulance, mention of death

George's POV:

He didn't answer the door, but I knew he was home, his car was outside and he never left his house. I called out his name but had nothing in response. I slowly twist the knob and open the door, thankfully being unlocked.

The first thing I saw as I walked into the house was a table. It was covered in powder and a few credit cards, then bags filled with said powder. Tears spilled over and onto my cheeks, mouth agape slightly. I held one hand to my mouth as I searched the rest of the halls, clothing, and garbage was thrown on all of the floors. "Clay?" I said, no answer.

I finally reach a semi-closed door and begin quietly knocking on it. After a few seconds of silence, I slowly open the door. His desk held two monitors and a few pill bottles, his keyboard, and mouse. The room was almost fully dark, making it difficult to see the figure laying across a large bed. He faced the wall, but I knew he was awake.

He wasn't exactly ecstatic to see me. He began to quietly sob. "Oh Clay." I whisper, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Can you please look at me?" I ask, tears continuing to fall onto the bed.

He slowly turns over and looks at me. There was a faint ring of dried blood around his right nostril, his hair was curly and long, and his eyes had bags under them. Either way, he was the prettiest person I'd ever seen. He reaches his hand up to my face and drags his thumb across my cheek, wiping away a tear. I smile weakly. "I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner..." my voice sounded broken and quiet. He shakes his head and sits up.

He leans forward and hugs me, arms wrapping around my chest, he lays his head in between my neck and shoulder, starting to sob. His body was bare and warm, his skin soft to the touch. I held onto him as tight as I could, never wanting to leave him again.

"I'm sorry." he cried. His voice sounded... real? Unlike what I've heard over years. This time he's right in front of me.

"No, it's okay." I said.

"I didn't mean a-anything, I didn't want t-to.." he pauses trying to catch his breath. "I didn't want to hurt you." he sounded terrified that I'd hate him. "I know. You're okay, I'm not mad." I told him.

We sat there holding each other for what seemed like hours, every now and then Clay would tell me how sorry he was. He'd repeat it over and over. I'd reassure him over and over. And I'll continue to for as long as he needs.

(WARNING: THE REST OF THE CHAPTER INVOLVES SYMPTOMS OF OVERDOSE AND/OR AN ACTIVE OVERDOSE. If you are triggered by the following topic then I advise you to skip to the end of the chapter.)

His grip on me slowly became tighter and his body started to shake enough that I could feel it, he was almost silent now. "Are you okay?" I ask.

"No." he whispers. I lean out of the hug and look at him, his expression was worrisome. He just stared forward with his mouth open slightly.

"Clay," I gently shake his shoulders. He sits there with no response. I grab his arm and feel for a pulse, finding a weak one. Panic washes through me, watching as his body turns pale. He begins to make a noise, one of which sounded like a cry for air. This noise got louder as his lungs heaved in search of oxygen. Saliva pooled in his mouth and spilled over, drooling all over his bed.

I fumble for my phone, shaking.

"911 what's your emergency?"

"I t-think my f-friend is over... o-overdosing." I tried not to sob. My breathing became loud and heavy as I tried to fully comprehend what I was seeing. "Where are you located, Sir?" the woman asks. I say his address in a panic, now sobbing.

"What are his sympto-" I cut her off, "Is someone c-coming? Please, h-he can't die! You can't let him die!!"

"Yes we have someone on the way, please remain calm. What are his symptoms?" she asks politely. "H-he isn't breathing, and-and his pulse is almost gone, he i-isn't swallowing and he's unresponsive of a-anything I d-do!" I shake him again, calling his name.

"I need you to lay him down on his side if he isn't already," she states, so I do. I lean down and kiss his forehead, crying loudly. "I love you, I'm so sorry." I whisper.

The moment the ambulance arrived I went outside and let them in. I stood in the corner of Clay's room as they put him on a stretcher and placed an oxygen mask on him. A man talked to him while a lady checked his pulse and looked at his eyes. He was blinking finally. As he was carried into the ambulance I followed them, sitting beside him the entire ride there.

I never thought I'd be in the back of an ambulance watching as strange people try to stop my best friend from dying. Never.

~

Warning over!!!

Yes, this was very intense and I'M SORRY!!!! The next bit of the book is going to be intense (not as intense as this).

If you or someone you know is struggling with addiction, PLEASE seek help from your local hospital. I love you.