Falling Again

Chapter 43

The world was a haze of pain and exhaustion. I felt like I was trapped inside my own body, fighting a war I couldn't win. Every muscle ached, every nerve was on fire, and the nausea was relentless. My head pounded, and the sweat soaking my sheets was both freezing and burning at the same time.

I didn't know how long I'd been like this—hours, days, weeks? Time didn't exist in this state. All I knew was that every time I opened my eyes, the light hurt too much to keep them open, and the smallest sound felt like a hammer to my skull.

The staff at the rehab centre were trying their best. They brought me water, encouraged me to eat, checked my vitals like clockwork. But nothing helped. Nothing took away the gnawing emptiness, the sharp craving that curled in my stomach like a wild animal.

"Just ride it out, Jacob," one of the nurses had said softly. "It's temporary. You're stronger than this."

Temporary. Stronger. Easy words to say when you weren't the one lying in this bed, shaking and sweating, your mind screaming for just one hit, one drink, anything to make it stop.

I drifted in and out of sleep—if you could even call it that. Nightmares chased me through every restless minute, filled with images of Aiden, of Aria, of Charlie. Faces I'd lost or pushed away. Sometimes, I thought I heard Aria's voice, soft and soothing, telling me it would be okay. But when I opened my eyes, she wasn't there.

When I finally managed to surface for a few hours, the staff told me I'd missed a visit.

"Aria was here," one of them said, their voice kind but cautious. "And your parents too. They stayed for a while, but you were asleep."

Asleep.

I sank back into the bed, feeling a wave of guilt and disappointment wash over me. Of course, they'd come. Of course, I wasn't there for them.

I could picture Aria sitting in the chair by my bed, her hands folded in her lap, worry etched into her face. She'd been there every step of the way, even when I hadn't deserved it. I hated that she'd shown up, probably full of hope, only to find me unconscious and unreachable.

And my parents... My mum had been so distant for so long, blaming me for everything I couldn't fix, but she still came. Despite her anger, despite the hurt, she was here. My dad, too, even though he always tried to play the stoic one.

I should've been awake. I should've been there.

But I wasn't.

Later, a nurse came to check on me, offering a small tray with soup and crackers. I managed a few bites, though it took all my energy just to sit up.

"Jacob," she said softly, sitting beside me. "Withdrawal is tough, but you're getting through it. Every day, you're closer to the other side."

I wanted to believe her, but it was hard. The cravings were still there, clawing at my mind, reminding me how much easier it would be to give up and go back.

"How long?" I croaked, my voice raw from disuse.

"Everyone's journey is different," she said. "But you're making progress. The worst of the physical symptoms should pass soon."

I nodded faintly, sinking back against the pillow. Progress. That word again. It felt meaningless when my body was screaming at me to stop.

But then I thought of Aria, her steady presence, her belief in me even when I couldn't believe in myself. I thought of my parents, of the way my mum's voice had cracked when she told me she was scared of losing me.

Maybe I wasn't strong enough yet. Maybe I'd missed their visit today. But I wasn't going to let this beat me. Not completely.

For the first time in days, I felt the faintest flicker of something other than despair. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was stubbornness.

Whatever it was, I was holding onto it.

***

The withdrawal was eating me alive. Every second felt like an eternity, each moment a battle against myself. My body was screaming for the substances I'd used to numb the pain, and my mind wasn't far behind, feeding me every excuse to give up.

You've already messed everything up, Jacob, the voice in my head hissed. You'll never fix it. Just let it go. One hit, one drink, and all this will be over.

I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms, using the sting to ground myself. I wasn't going to listen. Not this time. But it was so hard—God, it was hard.

I couldn't stop thinking about Aiden. His face was etched into my mind, clear as day, even though he'd been gone for years now. I could see the way he used to smile, the way his laugh lit up the room, the way he always tried to keep me close out of fear that I'd stray from him.

And then I saw the accident again. The car. The sound. His body on the pavement.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn't help. The images were burned into the back of my eyelids, and the guilt hit me like a freight train, just like it always did.

I hadn't protected him. I hadn't been the brother he deserved.

Aiden was the good one, the bright one. He had his whole life ahead of him—college, a career, a girlfriend. And I'd ruined it. If I had just noticed that he wasn't okay. If I had just seen the signs that told me what he was feeling, what he wanted to do to himself...

I could still hear my parent's screams in the street, the way they broke down. And my mind was right. It was my fault. I was a shit brother. A selfish, careless idiot who couldn't even look out for his own blood.

Tears started to spill down my face before I could stop them. I buried my head in my hands, shaking as the sobs ripped through me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Aiden, I'm so sorry."

I thought of the times he'd asked me to hang out, and I'd blown him off because I was too busy playing football or out with my friends and Aria. I thought of the times he'd confided in me, looking for guidance, and I'd brushed him off because I didn't have the patience.

What kind of brother does that?

The worst kind.

I cried until I didn't have the energy left to cry anymore. The room felt suffocating, the silence deafening. My head throbbed, and my chest felt hollow, like I'd poured out everything inside of me and there was nothing left.

Eventually, I lay back down, curling into myself like a child. The pillow was damp with tears, and my body ached in ways I couldn't describe.

But as I drifted into a fitful sleep, one thought stayed with me. I owed it to Aiden to try. I owed it to him to get better. Because if I didn't, then his death would have been for nothing. And I couldn't live with that.