Perfect Screw Ups | Quackbur

Alternate Happier Ending

Once I reached Quackity's house I didn't even bother parking the car. I drove the car halfway in and then yanked the keys out. I threw the car door open and slipped again. Cursing, I jumped up to my feet and didn't even bother to close the car door.

I jammed my keys into the lock and turned the knob with such fervency I thought I might snap it off. Leaving the door open I ran inside.

"QUACKITY!!" I shouted.

No response.

My heart sank.

I slammed the door to his bedroom open. He was going to rest a little bit he'd said.

The sheets were kicked off and the bed was empty.

I ran to my room.

No one.

I ran to the kitchen.

No one.

Finally I walked to the bathroom and I saw that the door was cracked open just a bit, letting out a little light into the otherwise dark house.

"Quackity?" I called out.

No response.

I pushed the door open, and found Quackity with a bottle of pills spilling into his hands.

"QUACKITY!"

He turned to me and his eyes filled with shock and horror. He looked from me to the pills and I know what he was thinking.

He tried to shove it into his mouth quickly, but I tackled him and began shoveling the pills out of his mouth. He wailed and tried fighting it, kicking and hitting at me and trying to bite my hand. He didn't want to hurt me, I know he didn't, he was just desperate. He had hit rock bottom.

He wanted an escape, but I couldn't let this be the route he takes.

Once I'd gotten all the pills out his mouth, I kicked the bottle away and I forced him into a bear hug, not allowing him to crawl away and take them again.

"No!" he sobbed, "no!! Let me have them, please, you don't understand! You don't know what you're doing, please. Baby, please, I need it."

He continued trying to free himself of my grasp but I held him closer.

"I need it, I need it, please. Please I need it. I need it. . ," his voice trailed off, being entirely taken over by the horrible sobs that shook his whole body. His cries began to sound like yells of desperation.

It felt like my heart had been wrenched out and stomped on.

"Please. .baby. .I miss him baby, it hurts. It hurts."

"I know, darling, I know."

I began crying now too, unable to bear the pain of hearing the love of my life beg for death. I almost wanted to give the pills back and apologize, but I couldn't do it. I wouldn't do it. I needed him. I loved him. I wouldn't let him go. He'd never given up on me, and I won't give up on him either. Not now, not ever.

"I want to see him again. . ," he cries, "I want to see him, this is how I'll see him. Why am I still here? Why me? Why not him. Bring him back, bring him back and I'll stay. Please, I want him back. Why can't he come back? Why am I here? I need him, I can't live if he isn't here. Why am I here remembering his death instead of vice versa?"

I held him close, not daring to let go. I pet his hair and I let him cry. I let him tell me every single thing that he thought he never could.

"I drank baby. .I drank and I cut. I'm not clean. I'm a failure. Baby, I failed you. I'm a failure. I can't go outside again. I can't gain back all those months I had spent clean. They're gone forever. I'm dirty, I'm ashamed. I'm devastated. Make it go away, baby."