anxious and alone |dnf|

dont make me

TW: talk about suicide/suicidal thoughts, talk about addiction/drugs, panic attack

Dreams POV:

I should have kept my mouth shut. Everyone spews this bullshit about how they're just trying to make sure I'm safe. When's the last time I was safe?

Ever since my last session with Carson, Brady has been showing me resources for Halfway Houses and even Hospitals that specialize in suicidal patients. I denied all of them. But they won't back off. I'm not broken.

"I don't need a babysitter." I explain, passing the booklet back to Brady. "Clay you expressed some very serious concerns to Carson and right now we are trying to make sure you stay alive and sober when you leave rehab. I think going to a Halfway House would greatly benefit you after your time here. You will be surrounded by others going through the same thing as you, as well as learn how you can properly care and reintegrate yourself back into society."

"Can I think about it?" Brady smiles, nodding enthusiastically. "Take your time."

I'm not going to think about shit. I just can't handle this anymore. I've been flagged down and followed for the past several days, nobody will leave me alone. They're only concerned when you tell them you're going to kill yourself.

Today is the day I am finally allowed visitors, though I don't think my mom will come. I haven't talked to her about anything. She's probably worried sick. The thought of leaving her scared makes me want to throw up.

<<<>>>

During free time I decided to sit in the main lounge, head rested against that couch. I've thought and thought. I never stopped thinking. George.

"You ruined my life."

The way my words struck down his always tall posture. How his nostrils flared in attempt to stop himself from crying. He didn't want me to see how badly I broke him, but I did. He was terrified of me. I let him pull me onto my side to stop me from dying, I let him stand there and endure my hatred, I let his eyes fill with terror while I held onto him tightly, I let him take me back in with his love and care, I let him watch me doze off from the toxins inside me, I let him be hurt by my actions and words. I let myself destroy him.

All he's ever done is be there for me. He saw I was hurting and took it into his own hands to try, to try harder than anyone else has, to make me feel better. He acknowledged I wasn't okay and let me know he was there. And when I blamed him he came to my rescue. He flew 4,331 miles to save me from myself, only to be ripped apart. I'm a fucking monster for what I did to him.

"Clay, there's someone here to see you." Brady says. I furrow my eyebrows, standing up and following him. "Who?"

"Some kid named George."

I stop behind him shaking my head. "I can't see him." I explain. "Why not?"

My heart began pulsating inside my throat as my palms became sweaty. My entire body rushed with tingles before feeling the biggest rush of heat flow through my veins. I forgot how to breathe. All my thoughts became foggy as my head felt like it was being banged against a metal pole. Trying to catch my breath I fall onto the ground, my body shaking like I'd been in the cold for hours. "I.. I can't breathe." I gasp trying to fight for air.

Brady kneels down trying to reassure me and telling me it's okay. He tried to do a breathing exercise but I'm not listening, my ears are ringing too loud. "Clay, you need to try and calm down. Everything is okay. You're safe and you're not in danger. Try breathing in through your nose, and out through your mouth." And I do. After a few minutes the ringing in my ears goes away, as well as the shaking and headache. However, a certain pain in my chest stays lingering.

"Did I just have a panic attack?" I ask. "I am afraid so."

Someone called Carson. "Clay do you know why you had an anxiety attack?" He asks, handing me a glass of water. "George is here."

"How does that make you feel?"

"Like shit."

"You should talk to him."

"Please, I can't, don't make me." My voice cracks. "Nobody is going to make you see him. But don't you think you should talk to him about how you're feeling and about what happened now, rather than later?" I take in a shuddery breath, "Yeah."

George sits on a couch in a small room, one of the ladies not too far away. When I walk inside the room he stands up, staying still.

I walk over to him and hug him, holding onto him the tightest I could. He still smelt like cinnamon, he felt sorta safe. "I'm sorry." His words are muffled in my shirt. Tears stream down my face. "Don't ever apologize again. I'm so fucking sorry for what I did and what I said to you. You.. you don't need to forgive me, I was awful." I sob into his shoulder.

He's pulls out of hug, looking me in the eyes, "I forgive you."

We both sit down opposite of each other. He begins to explain why he called the police on me. "....and I didn't know what else to do, I didn't want you to go too far and..."

How did he get here? I know I should be happy but I'm confused. I wasn't ready for this. I feel ambushed.

"George. Why are you here?" I ask. "Because I wanted to make sure you're okay." He looks at me weirdly.

"How the hell did you figure out where I am?"

"Well your mom and I-"

"You're talking to my mom?" My chest feels heavy. "Clay, I had to tell her what's been going on. You completely banished and she was fucking worried."

"You.. you told my mom?" I stand up, pacing. "She," my breathing speeds up. "Oh my god."

Carson watches from the side. He and George watch as I begin hyperventilating, my pacing speeding up.

My breathing becomes loud and quick, like hiccups, but I couldn't breathe. "I can't, I can't do this." I walk out of the room, leaving George alone as Carson follows behind me. I assume one of the ladies will escort George outside.

Carson finds me in my bedroom sitting on the floor, crying and still trying to catch up my breath. "My mom.. my.. my."

"Clay, stop talking, you're wasting your breath."

A few minutes of Carson talking me through my breathing I am finally able to do it myself. Though I curl myself close, knees to my chest, sobbing into them harder than it felt like I ever have. I cried and cried and cried.

She must be so disappointed.

~

There's a little George action for you