heartstrings

Chapter 16

Nicholas
November 10, 2017

The house was eerily quiet, a vast emptiness that mirrored the hollow feeling inside me. My father and his wife were at some fancy event, leaving me alone with nothing but my thoughts and the crushing weight of my sorrow.

I hadn't left my bed in days. I couldn't muster the motivation to eat, stand up, or even care. The room was my prison, my bed a shroud of hopelessness where I lay crumbled, high on whatever drugs I could find to dull the pain.

I hadn't eaten in days. The very thought of food made my stomach churn, not out of hunger, but from the sheer effort it would take to put anything in my mouth. My body was weak and my limbs feel heavy and uncooperative.

Each passing day felt like an eternity, each minute dragging on interminably.

Sleep had become an elusive stranger. When I closed my eyes, the darkness behind my lids mirrored the emptiness I felt inside. Instead of finding rest, I found myself tangled in a web of thoughts—each one more suffocating than the last.

My mind was a constant storm of regret, self-loathing, and despair, swirling together into a relentless torrent that kept me awake.

The once-familiar routine of school had become an insurmountable challenge. It has been about four days since I stepped foot into a classroom.

The idea of facing people, of pretending to be okay, was more than I could bear. My friends had stopped calling, their concern slowly fading as they realized I wasn't coming back any time soon.

Isolation was my only companion, and I clung to it, feeling undeserving of anything else. The only one who hasn't stopped calling and visiting was Matt.

He turned up to my house twice, bringing take away food and the homework I had missed from school.

Matt tried to talk to me, but eventually he accepted that there wasn't anything he could do to make me feel better except wait. The food he brought me a few days ago was left untouched on my desk and i didnt even look at the assignments he brought me.

Matt still continued to text me every day, making sure I was "still alive", according to his words. I didn't find the strength to text him back ,yet I am beyond grateful to have a friend like him.

Everybody needs a Matt

Every day felt like a battle just to get out of bed. The world outside my room was a distant reality, one I had no strength to engage with.

I'm just curled up in my bed, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts drifting in and out of focus. The drugs were a temporary escape, a way to numb the pain, but even they couldn't fully silence the darkness that had taken hold of me.

The house was quiet, my fathers absence a constant reminder of his detachment. He was busy with his life, his social events, his endless pursuits of perfection, while I was sinking deeper into my own personal hell.

I wondered if he even noticed how far I'd fallen, or if he was content to let the cleaning lady handle the mess I had become.

As I lay there, the days blurring together, I felt a gnawing sense of hopelessness. It was like a black hole, swallowing any semblance of light or joy.

I was trapped, unable to see a way out, unable to muster the strength to fight. The simplest tasks felt monumental—brushing my teeth, taking a shower, even just getting dressed. Everything required an effort I didn't have.

I wanted to believe that things could get better, that there was a way out of this darkness. But the path forward seemed shrouded in shadow, and I was too tired, too defeated, to try and find it.

So I am just there, caught in the endless cycle of my own despair, waiting for something—anything—to change. But deep down, I feared that this was all there would ever be.

The silence was occasionally punctuated by the distant sounds of the outside world, but they felt as if they belonged to another reality.

A faint sound penetrated my stupor—a doorbell ringing somewhere in the house. I barely registered it, too deep in my fog to care. It rang again, more insistent this time, but I still didn't move.

Moments later, there was a knock on my bedroom door. I ignored it, assuming it was the cleaning lady who usually knew better than to disturb me when I was like this.

Then, a soft, familiar voice broke through the haze. "Nic?"

My heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be. I must be hallucinating. But the voice was so clear, so real. Slowly, I turned my head, blinking to clear the fog from my vision.

There she was, standing in the doorway, her expression a mix of concern and determination—Eve.

"You should've called me," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

I tried to process what I was seeing, convinced it was just the drugs playing tricks on my mind. A strange, euphoric smile spread across my face as I greeted her. "Eve? Is that really you? Oh my God, I missed you so much." , even I noticed how out of character that was for me, but I was so high I didn't even care to act differently.

She looked confused and a bit angry as she stepped closer, her eyes scanning the disarray of my room and the state I was in. She cautiously sat on the edge of the bed, and I struggled to sit up, my movements clumsy and uncoordinated.

When I finally managed to sit up, I reached out and pulled her into a tight hug, needing to confirm that she was real.

"Eve, I can't believe you're here," I mumbled against her shoulder. "I missed you. I missed you so much. I thought... I thought I was just imagining things."

She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching mine. "Nic, what have you done to yourself?"

I rambled on, unable to make any sense. "I missed you. I can't believe you came. It's so good to see you. You're really here, right? I'm not dreaming?"

"Nic... are you high?, What the fuck, Nic, youre completley out of it."
"Look at me! --Open your eyes and look at me. God your eyes are practically bright red!"

Her words barely registered as I continued to babble incoherently, my mind too clouded by the drugs to process anything clearly. "I'm so happy you're here, Eve. I thought I'd never see you again. Everything's been so dark without you."