He laid there, alive but not moving. He lays like that a lot. Ya know, unmoving. His breathing varies. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, and other times it's uneven and interrupted. I've never seen someone choke on themselves.
He might as well be dead to me, with the way it hurts to see his weak figure lean against whatever can hold him up. Right now, that crutch is a hospital bed. His monitor showed a steady heart rate but his body expressed uneasy pain. The antidote dripped slowly through an IV. I can only imagine how cold the needle in is arm felt when it was first inserted. Or, did he notice it at all?
I couldn't lay. I couldn't lean. I couldn't even really breathe calmly. It was midnight but you can't tell the difference of time when you're in the emergency room. Even though I was tired from a long, traumatizing night, my body felt as stiff as a board. I sat upright on a small black chair in the corner of the cramped room. The lights were off but the LED light in the hallway were still harsh on the eyes. The sounds of nurses working, patients shifting or coughing, and constant equipment noise made it impossible to relax. Everyone left after a short while. I should've too but I couldn't leave him alone. It felt too cruel to abandon him in this cold place without socks, without pants, and only a stiff hospital blanket given to every patient. He was utterly alone. I hated that. I could only bite back all the emotions that I could scream out through tears but...
He moved. Well, he shifted. When we were completely alone, he shifted all his attention to me.
I steeled my emotions and forced a smile. I felt that I needed to be strong right now. I mean, I felt genuine concern but I thought it best to keep things light. The whole world was heavy on him for so long. I mean, I don't deserve to be upset or show any weakness. This was my fault, after all.
It was my fault that he did it. It was my fault that he felt like he was alone. It was me. I was so selfish. I can't believe I didn't listen to my instincts. Why didn't I notice sooner? Why didn't I stop him? Maybe if I paid more attention-
Maybe if I was a better girlfriend- Maybe I should've just-
"Do you hate me? Be honest." Be stared at me, unblinking. Even though it was dark and I didn't have my glasses, I could see his expression perfectly.
"No," I simply put. And it was the truth. We sat in silence for a while. Both of us were unsure of what to say.
My mind slipped back to earlier that night. Back to when I told him I wanted to break up. Back when he left me with a kiss and a smile. And when... when I picked up the bottle. That's when I knew there was no amount of talking that would reverse what had been done. The pills were gone. My heart was shattered. The lover I knew was gone; a ghost of my own heart smiling at me with dead eyes.
I knew our world was about to change for a long time, if not forever. The tears couldn't even fall but it felt like I was sobbing. I cried out for it to all be a dream and for it all to stop but even so, I had to fight. I had to. For him. And for us. I wanted there to be an us somewhere down the line so, that meant letting him go. I had to.
God, I wish he had just cut his wrist open, or drunk himself into oblivion. At least then, I could just stop the bleeding or just lecture him and by the end of the night, he would still be in my arms. Unfortunately, life isn't that merciful.
~
"I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you" He said, softly.
His words paused my thoughts.
"Why?", I whispered through teary eyes.
"I don't know. I just needed something." He casually spoke.
A crooked smile formed on my face. Was this rage? Or perhaps disbelief? I don't know what I expected from a mentally ill man.
Right right... he's mentally ill.
