The 18th Floor

Chapter Thirty Five

TW: Suicide, Cancer, Depression, Anxiety, BPD

I'm sat opposite him at his dining table, where there is still an empty seat now occupied by my wheelchair.

"I'm listening", I don't say anything else.

He puts his head in hands and rubs his face, trying to wipe at the exhaustion.

"I can't get you out of my head. I never have been able to get you out of my head."

My heart starts pounding in my chest. This is not what I expected.

"I like you Cyrene, I really, really like you, but I don't deserve you."

"Lucien."

"No, don't. Let me explain. Please let me explain."

I nod.

"My family is fucked up Cyrene, they are so fucked up."

I wait for him to carry on.

"I went back home and all I could think about was you and how I wanted to be here with you and not with them. But then I felt so guilty because they are all the family I have left, but then I thought about how you shouldn't even be with me or my family, or anywhere close."

"Lucien, I don't think I'm following", I state.

He takes a deep breath. "There's so much in my head Cyrene, so so much that you don't need to deal with. But it all feels better when I'm with you. I feel drunk off of you Cyrene, I'm suffocating in my own thoughts of comfort of you. No matter what I do, I can't get you out of my head."

I still at his words.

"Lucien, I-"

"My mum passed away from cancer. My dad committed shortly after."

I can't help the gasp that escapes my lips as I go to cover my mouth, not expecting the conversation to go in this direction.

"Lucien, I'm so sorry."

"Back to back, like they planned it", he laughs out.

The thought of losing one parent is terrible, but both? I knew his parents had passed, but I never asked or questioned the how's and whys of their deaths.

"When I was 14, they found a lump. She ended up having breast cancer. She beat it the first time round, with lots of chemo and radiation and treatments, all the things that make you see one of the people you love the most wither away. It came back a year later, and by the time I was 17, they said she only had a couple months left."

My heart cracks as I listen to Lucien, watching his eyes pool. It's a strange feeling, watching someone cry for the first time, especially someone who always seems so strong and assured. But deep down, I've always felt like Lucien was a ticking time bomb, I was just never sure how many minutes were left on that clock. And somehow, I feel like I've increased the ticking.

"She couldn't do anything. Dad would look after her during the day, and when I got home from school, I would spend the rest of the day with her whilst my dad went out to work. We weren't rich. My dad had to work two jobs each night to get us by." I find my hands reaching over the table to hold his.

"The summer I was 18, her body shut down completely. She passed in her sleep. She fought a lot but I told her she could stop. I told her to let go if she needed and if that makes me a shit son so be it, but she was in pain. I wanted her to be at peace, but it wasn't just her. I saw my dad drain away with her. Almost like his body was going through all the chemo as well. The month she passed, I don't think we said a word to each other. My sister came from Greece in her last two months. She had moved away a year before, despite knowing our mum's situation. She left two days after the funeral, saying it wasn't good for her mental health, being pregnant and all, which she dropped on us on the day of the funeral. She didn't have the best relationship with our parents, neither of us really did. They did their role of raising us, but we were never a close family."