PULSE [H.S]

081

"Shame is a soul-eating emotion." — C.G. Jung

It feels like there's been an earthquake.

My body is being violently shaken, and it wakes me up from my sleep. The action tears me from my peaceful dream, harshly ripping me back to a reality I'm not ready to face.

"Wake the fuck up!"

I open my eyes, squinting as I adjust to the brightness. I see a floor, and then I see blue eyes. Niall's face comes into focus, and he's looking at me with panic all over his features.

He screams, "Please be alive!"

What?

I feel his fingers on my neck and realize he is taking my pulse right now. I say, "What is going on—"

"How many did you take?" he yells at me.

I look around.

Oh.

I'm on the ground, sleeping, with a shit-ton of pills around me. Of course he would come in and think that I overdosed.

I sit up, quickly saying, "I didn't take any."

He ignores me, picking up the pill bottle and reading the description printed on the side of it. I put my hand on his arm and say, "Niall, I promise I didn't take any."

He looks at me, studying my face. He says, "You didn't?"

"I'm sober."

Relief washes over his face. I recognize the look on his face. He just saw something that I witnessed several times in my life. Finding someone you love who has passed out from drugs is something that shakes you to your core.

"Where did you get these?" he asks, and when his eyes meet mine again, I can see that they are wet and tears are close to falling.

I swallow the lump in my throat as the guilt starts to creep in. I was so close to doing something that would have hurt a lot of people.

Niall stands up, pacing around the room with his hands on his head. I can tell that he's stressed out right now, so I stay quiet as he thinks.

He pauses when he nears the desk. He picks up something, and I realize it's the letter addressed to Pen. He holds it and looks over at me, his eyes sad.

He says quietly, "Were you going to kill yourself?"

I close my eyes, running my hands over my face. I take a deep breath. I say, "I didn't do it. I couldn't—I didn't do it."

"Kiz, oh my God," he cries as he falls to the floor in front of me. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me in for a hug, squeezing me so tight that I think I might pop. He says, "I'm sorry. I should have been here. I'm sorry I left you."

I cry into his chest, feeling like the most selfish person in the entire world. I say, "No, Niall. I did this, not you."

"Why?" he asks, and his voice cracks.

I sniffle, "It felt easier to give up."

"What changed your mind?" he asks.

I point to the book that's still on the floor, with pills scattered around it. I say, "He got me a fucking birthday present."

After a while, I manage to convince Niall that I'm not going to try anything like that again, and that I'm fine. I don't think he fully believes me, but he lets me go.

We clean up the pills, and Niall makes sure to get every last one of them. He even checks to make sure I didn't smuggle any to take later. He takes the pill bottle with him downstairs.