Warm Bodies (Herobrine X Entity303)

chapter 6

The sky was grey, and the days grew colder. Autumn used to be so pretty, all the oranges and reds of the crunchy leaves, all the holidays and festivals, harvest and halloween and hot chocolate, woolen scarves and fluffy boots... it all used to be so pretty. It was all different now, it was so dull, so miserable. Frost grew on the windows, tiny sharp crystals spreading up the glass before my eyes. The wind whispered, and a light rain pattered against the frosted pane. I was cold, and tired, no amount of sleep could make me feel rested. Food had no flavour or joy, music was bland and irritating, movies were boring and predictable, art felt grey and meaningless, and everything lost its life. I felt like I had died. Something inside of me had died, growing sunken, rotten, cold. Why was I still here?

Herobrine came to check on me three or four times a week, and Null stayed overnight every other day, but with nothing going on in my head I never had much to say. Herobrine would knock on my hospital room door and nudge it open to see me staring blankly out of the window, and he would take my hand and guide me to my bed where I'd lay and stare at the ceiling. He'd react to the shock of my cold skin and hastily throw the blanket over me, and he'd tell me what the doctor's plans were and he'd talk to me about when the next psychiatrist visit would be, or when I'm to be moved to the psych ward, or something else. I never responded, I never had the strength or the thought to. What was the plan from here? I didn't want to get better, I wanted to die. I didn't want to be in the hospital room, or the psych ward, or with Herobrine, or at home, I wanted to be nowhere. I wanted to be dead, and I wasn't dead yet, and with no other wants or plans or interests, there was nothing to say.

"How have you been feeling? Null says you still haven't spoken."

...

"I know this is hard. I know this is stressful, but the reason I put you here was to help you find your will to live again. You're so grey and sad now. I want to see you full of life again."

...

"I know you want nothing more than to die, but I'm not going to let that happen. I'm not going to let you die."

"Why?"

"Well, it's good to know you're still aware."

"Answer the question. Why do you insist on caring if I live or die? What compels you to be so fucking obsessed with me all of a sudden?"

"... I don't know, Entity. Maybe I think it's a waste of a creative, talented, intelligent life. Maybe I enjoy our stargazing, maybe I think you could make a career out of your fighting abilities, maybe an entirely different reason I don't have the words for. I enjoy your company, and I'd never forgive myself if you died while I'm around."

It's a tricky situation to be in, or to put anyone else in. On one hand losing a friend or a loved one to suicide is devastating, and it can tear people apart. It all feels so unfair. But on the other hand, keeping yourself alive solely for the peace-of-mind of one other person can get codependent pretty quick. I never asked to be so attached to him, and I never asked for him to grow attached to me, and I hate that he'll be hurt when I die. But, as disgusting and evil as I feel for admitting to it, I think I enjoy his company too.

"Do you like me?"

"What?"

"Is that what this is? You wanna make out with me or something?"

"You're unbelievable. I'm trying to be sincere and heartfelt with you, there's no need to be such a vulgar smartass."

"All this will be a lot easier if you admit to it."

"No, Entity, I don't like you, and I'm starting to doubt if I even want your company. I think I liked you better five minutes ago when you weren't talking."

"I was fine before you locked me up here. Being trapped here is torture. I just want to die."

"I know how it feels-"

"Don't you dare. Don't you even think about it. You don't know anything about what this feels like-"

"Entity, be quiet. I know exactly what this feels like, because I was a patient here. I tried to overdose about five years ago. I drove myself here, whilst dying. I collapsed at the reception, and they put me in this exact room. The team here saved my life, the medical team and the psychiatric team. They saved me. I want you to give them a chance."

"Herobrine, they were able to save you the way they could save a wilting plant by giving it water and sunlight. I'm oil. Messy, destructive, dangerous, and dead. Maybe I was alive at one point, but that was so long ago it's a lost cause. You can't make oil sprout blossoms with water and sunlight, you can only accept the reality of its death and let it be dead. They can't fix me if I'm already dead, and dead men don't long for life, and don't wish to be better. They're too dead for that."

"Wha- Enti- do you even hear yourself? What the fuck are you talking about? You've lost it completely. Look, I have to go. I'll be back tomorrow to make sure you haven't begun drinking gasoline or depriving yourself of water. Read a book, or draw a picture, or something."

And with that, he left me again. A long night of cold and empty silence awaited me.