Save Me From My Self Destruction. (Frerard)

Chapter 2- A Daydream Of Nightmares.

A Daydream Of Nightmares. :

Refraining from chain smoking was probably the hardest damn thing I've ever done. When you go through withdrawal like I did without cigarettes, you feel relaxed when you finally get to relieve yourself and then it's hard to stop. I made the decision to not chain smoke not because I was worried about my lungs collapsing or my health, I was worried about running out of my addicting death sticks.

If I did run out though, I knew I would have no problem getting more, as Zack favored me. However, it was the fact that I just didn't want to run out so soon and have to make up an excuse to get out of the facility on some absurd hour. But it would be worth it, cigarettes were something I cherished, worshiped, even.

Alcohol was a different story. I wasn't into the drinking or partying scene, I liked to be alone. I drank seldomly, but when I did I was always with Zack. He never let's me drink alone, because of a mistake I had once made. I regret it deeply, but I won't deny that it happened. Here's what happened-

I was alone, I was smashed, and of course when I get drunk my mind takes a dreaded dive into the deep end. Beer bottles littered the room, knocked over on the table, spread out all over the floor, on the dusty and worn out furniture, everywhere. I had broken into an abandoned building, but those weren't too hard to find in Jersey, and it wasn't hard to do.

This had been Zack and I's drinking spot for months, but for once I was alone. Zack had more important things going on his life than to get drunk with a worthless teenager. I was a worthless teenager, and to that drunken thought I raised my bottle as a private toast and chugged the rest of my beer. Of course I was too hammered to know when to stop drinking, so I cracked open another bottle.

I couldn't help but think that the abandoned building I was currently in felt more like a home than the facility, or the home I had for 4 short years with my parents. But it was as if the old building was exactly like my parent's home, everything was torn and broken. This lonely place was a representation of my emotions and my family; broken.

I tried to fight back the tears, but found fighting the inevitable useless. I was alone, what was I afraid of? I was afraid of a lot, actually. I can thank my asshole parents for that. They forced these thoughts into my head, they made me the mess I was.

My mood was plummeting to an all time low and I couldn't find a single shred of happiness within me. As I looked around, I realized how pessimistic I was, but I had a right to be. The world was an ugly and brutal place to live. I felt like the lost 4 year old boy I used to be as I sat on the cold cracked flooring in the darkened building.

The most dangerous thing about me was that I used to carry my medication around with me, which I learned was not a smart idea at all. The helper's in the facility were convinced that I had behavioral issues, and apparently the doctor's agreed with them. I disagree, there is nothing wrong with me. But back to the subject at hand, I was going to overdose that night. That is, until Zack just so happened to walk in as I was going to pour a whole envelope of pills down my throat.

I owed my life to Zack, literally. He stopped me from suicide and he's always looking after me, handing me free cigarettes as well, as long as I didn't drink alone anymore. Which I didn't, and that's how I get free cigarettes. He was like the guardian I never had, and I was so grateful for him.

As curfew in the facility hit I felt myself relaxing in the darkness. I was thinking about saying fuck it and smoking in my room anyway, but decided against it. The darkness was so peaceful, it lessened my craving for a cigarette. It was just me alone in the darkness, quietly listening to music on the black carpeted flooring.

Of course I had a bed, but I like to sit and lay on the floor. I really only used my bed for sleep, the floor was like a safe haven inside my small paradise-my bedroom. I always laid or sat on the floor to think or even daydream.

Sometimes without even realizing I would remember and daydream of the days when my parents would want me. I would remember the times my mom would push me on the swings we had in the back yard, I remember the bedtime stories and baking cookies, I remember the trips to grandma's house we took, I even remember the time when my parents sat me down to explain that my mom was pregnant with Mikey.

I was so excited to be an older brother, it was like my mom was giving birth to my best friend. I used to think that we would all be one big happy family, that we would have movie nights, hold hands as we all crossed the street, have family dinners, or even go trick-or-treating in matching outfits. But obviously I was wrong.

I had Mikey, we had each other. I smiled for him and let him know that he didn't need parents, he didn't need to put so much trust into someone just to get hurt in the end. I didn't want to see Mikey hurt, he was my little brother, all that I had left and I clung onto him desperately, to tell you the truth.

As I closed my eyes, seeing nothing but darkness now, I could hear the start of a thunderstorm. Through my shut eyelids I could see the flashes of lightning striking outside. The sound of rain got louder as the downpour began.

My breathing was calm as I listened to the rain, memories flashing through my mind. The memories and flashbacks changed and went by so fast, matching the beat of the pouring rain. The memories hurt more than the blow the roof took from the rain drops that smacked down around my surroundings outside like a storm of bullets.

I held anger in me. The anger directed towards the parents that didn't even acknowledge their kids' existence. Why didn't they want Mikey or I? Why weren't good enough? Why did they not care? How could they live their lives on peacefully, knowing that they had just given up on their children.

I squeezed my eyes shut even more, gritting my teeth and clenching my fists. It was hard to just forget about your parents abandoning you when you woke up in the place that reminded you of them constantly. I wish I could forget, I wish I could stop being angry, I wish Mikey and I were born to different parents. Maybe things wouldn't have turned out so shitty and broken.

"Gee?" I heard Mikey's voice from outside my door. I instantly calmed down and smiled subconsciously. I took a deep breath and opened my door for my little brother, putting my hand on his back and leading him into my room.

"What's wrong, Mikey?" I asked him, my voice soft and calm. We sat on the edge of my bed, the thunderstorm being background sound as we spoke.

"I can't sleep, I'm scared of the lightning and thunder." He admitted sheepishly. Mikey was 12 years old, he was an anxious kid and scared of many things. I lived to protect Mikey from all of his fears, acting more like his guardian than his brother.

"You can sleep in here tonight, how does that sound, buddy?" I ruffled his growing hair with my right hand. He groaned as he tried to fix his hair that I had just messed up. "Will the helpers allow that?" He asked he ran his hand through his hair.

"I didn't ask what they approved of, now lay down, I'll take the floor, okay? Maybe tomorrow we can go to the carnival downtown or something." I smiled as I laid on the floor, returning to the relaxing sound of the rain. Every so often lightning would strike or a clap of thunder would erupt, causing Mikey to stir around on the bed in scarce and discomfort.

I hated seeing Mikey so scared, he looked so helpless and it hurt me to see him in that state. I liked to believe I helped Mikey, but I didn't know if that was true or not. I didn't know if I was a god brother or not, I tried to be at least. But when Mikey smiles, I smile, when he's hurting I hurt with him, and when he falls down, I'm right there to help him back up again.

I heard the soft snoring of Mikey, signaling that he was asleep. I so badly wanted a cigarette but I know I can't just smoke in front of Mikey, whether he's asleep or not. I never want Mikey to pick up a habit like mine, when Mikey's 16 I hope he's way more innocent than I am. Also, I did't want Mikey to breathe in the smoke of my cigarettes, second hand smoke is just as bad as smoking the cigarette. He didn't deserve that.

Then there was my fear of letting Mikey down. I didn't ever want to disappoint Mikey, I wanted him to have hope for his future. I didn't want him to think remotely close to how I do. Mikey is a happy kid for the most part and I intend on keeping it that way.

"Night, Mikey." I whispered to him, even though he was already sleeping. I then shut my eyes and tried to dream of something happy for once. I needed a change of scenery.