I Can't

Part 8

TW! Eating disorder, self harm, suicidal thoughts/attempt

The next week was hard. My scars were slowly fading and I was finally able to keep food down. I hate this so much. I hate myself. Dream and Sapnap told me to tell them if I ever want to relapse. But I couldn't. What was I supposed to say? "I want to cut myself again?" It's an uncomfortable conversation. I went to therapy once. She said when I feel like hurting myself, I should snap a rubber band on my wrist or hold and ice cube in my hand. But it doesn't do anything. I need to see blood. Scars. Proof of my suffering.

It was 4 AM, everyone was asleep. I went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. I reached into the back and found the empty chapstick bottle where I kept my blades. I looked at them hesitantly. It's been a week. I've held off for a week. I took out one of the blades. I held it to my arm as I looked at myself in the mirror. My arms were covered in scars, but they were fading. If they fade, I have no proof of my pain. I'm not going deep enough.

I pressed the blade hard against my skin. I made a deeper cut. I did it 3 more times. There was a lot of blood. I ran my arm under water, flinching as it burned. I dried it with a paper towel and looked at the cuts. They were deep this time. These shouldn't fade, at least not for a while.

I winced as I bandaged my arms. I started to feel lightheaded, so I went back to bed.

I woke up at 8. By that time Sap and Dream were up. Dream had made pancakes.

"Morning George," Sapnap said as I came down the stairs.

"Morning."

"Come eat," Dream said.

"Can I eat later?"

"Why? The doctor said-"

"I don't care what the doctor said," I snapped. "I have no control anymore. The doctor said this, the therapist said this, they're running my life! This is my life why can't I eat when I want and not eat when I want?"

"George, you're sick," Sapnap said.

"I'm not. I'm perfectly fine controlling my own life."

"George-"

"I'm not sick! I am not sick." I went back up to my room. Dream followed behind shortly after.

"Let me see your arms."

"What?"

"You're wearing long sleeves again. Did you relapse?"

"I'm cold! That's all!"

"George."

I gave in. I rolled up my sleeves to reveal the new bandages.

"Why didn't you come to me?"

"It was 4 AM."

"I don't care what time it is, always come to me or Sap. You're sick, George."

"I'm not sick!"

"Why did you relapse?"

"What kinda question is that," I said annoyed.

"Answer it."

"Because my scars were fading. I felt invalid. If there's no proof it's as if all of the damage I've done doesn't count."

"George, the fact you do this to yourself because you need to feel "valid" shows that you're sick. A well person wouldn't want to be sick."

"But I don't want to be sick."

"But you keep doing this to yourself."

He was right. I was only lying to myself. I don't see how I'm ever going to get better.

~*~

A month had passed. I had been clean and my scars were fading fast. The deeper ones were more visible, but even those were fading.

I had been eating normally. Gaining weight, but supposedly it's healthy because I was underweight. I still don't think I was skinny enough. I still hate myself. I haven't been going to therapy. I've told Dream and Sap that I have been going, but I've just been going outside for an hour. Drive around or whatnot. Tom and Toby checked in on my constantly. I know they're worried, and I appreciate that, but at the same time I hate it. I'm old enough to take care of myself.

I found myself in the bathroom again, searching for my blades. I finally found my chapstick container, but it was empty. Dream or Sap must've found it. I looked for anything else I could use. A month. It's been a month. My scars are fading. Do I really want to relapse? They're not even gone yet. I kept searching but I didn't find anything. I accidentally knocked a bottle out of the cabinet. I picked it up. It was pills. I looked at the pill box, wondering. It might just be easier if I end it all. I looked at the container for 5 minutes, just staring. I'm never gonna get better anyway. I'm sick. I'm always gonna be sick. I don't want to live like this.

I put the container back in the cabinet and went to my room. I took out a piece of paper and a pen.

I'm sorry. I always end up hurting everyone, it's better if im just not here anymore. I love you all. Thank you for everything.

-George

I took the note with me and went back to the bathroom. I got out the pills and opened the container. I took 9 pills. That should be enough. I soon started to feel lightheaded, so I held onto the sink. Then it all went black.

Dream's POV:

I was editing a YouTube video when I heard a thud from upstairs. Sapnap was with me. George.

"George?" I went upstairs. Sapnap was asleep on the couch.

"George? Are you alright?"

No response. He wasn't in his room, either. I looked at the closed bathroom door. The light was on, shining through the cracks.

"George?" I knocked worriedly.

I opened the door. There was a piece of paper, an open pill bottle, and he was on the floor.

"GEORGE!"

I ran to him, trying to shake him awake.

"George? George can you hear me? George please wake up!"

"Sapnap!" I shouted downstairs.

"What happened," he came in rubbing his eyes. He moved his hands and saw George.

"SHIT!" He ran over.

"CALL 911!"

Sapnap called 911 as I shook George, trying to wake him up.

"They'll be here in 5 minutes."

Sapnap reached up to the sink and grabbed the pills and the note. He read the back of the bottle.

"It says do not take more than 3 in one day how many could he have taken?!"

I read the note.

"George please don't do this, please don't go," I sobbed.

I held George's hand. I wasn't letting go this time. He can't die. He can't. I love him.

The paramedics arrived and put him on a stretcher and took him downstairs.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Sapnap asked as they put him in the ambulance.

"We'll do our best."

That's never good. I can't lose him.

"I'm sorry but you both will have to drive to the hospital separately."

We got in the car. Sapnap drove as I called Tommy and Toby.

"Hey mate what's up?" Tom said.

"Is Toby with you?" I sniffled.

"Yeah why? Are you crying?"

"George overdosed."

1158 words.