Two Eyes Down: Nearsighted

The Shell Has Been Shattered

"Aiden slides aside and Nate and I are lead through empty take out containers and bottles and cans all over the place. One of the lightbulbs in a two bulb lamp is out, the other one dying as quickly as my sense of smell. It wreaks of alcohol, expired milk, and vomit assaulting my face one by one until they blend together.

"Dylan, we have visitors", Aiden calls, rushing past us. In response, is a slurred grunt and a mumble only Aiden understands. "You've had enough".

I already felt sick, but turning the corner of the filthy hallway, "Oh dear god", is all I got to cope with the sight of Dylan. He wears boxers and a white tank top covered by a blue bathrobe, every article has stains and what I assume to be dried vomit everywhere. I look to Nate, who stands right beside me. He is almost as shocked as I am. It must have gotten worse since he's been here. His shock and slight sadness turns to anger.

"Aiden, come outside I want to talk to you", then Nate looks to me, "Alright Nat, I'll be back. Good luck". And with a pat on the shoulder he leaves my side, Aiden shuffling in small steps behind him.

Not knowing what to do or where to go, I sit in the only clean space in the house. At first, Dylan has to stare at me for an extended period of time to realize I'm me. Then, with a fresh bottle of vodka in his hand, he straightens his clothes and sits up on his bed. Not so much to be sitting, but far enough to where he isn't lying down. "Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in", he slurred, taking a swig.

"You say it like you're higher than me".

"Maybe. Doesn't matter. I assume you have come to talk, giving up on the silent treatment?"

"I didn't know I was coming here at all actually. I'm glad I did though".

" And why is that?" He asks, moving to the edge of his bed. His breath almost knocked me over.

" We need to talk. This is dangerous, this state of living".

" Who cares, Aiden doesn't mind. I don't care much for anything anymore. No one else has stepped through that door".

" Dylan", I start, sitting at the edge of my seat. I slowly reach out and put my hand on his knee, scared he'll reject me. " We all care. We just don't want to invade your space. Obviously we need to. You know how much you mean to me, as a friend, as family. Just not like you love me. You can't blame anyone for this situation, in your heart you're aware of that. Not Demi, not me, not even yourself. Now I need you to look around. Look at what is physically around you. What the hell are you doing? You said you wouldn't be the drunk bastard that deserted you. You already got half of that down".

The rough exterior he had seemed to shatter into a million pieces, falling of his skin when his tears loosened the glue. " I tried so hard", he sobbed, " You never noticed. Every single day, I was right next to you. Every single day, you were four steps away and five steps ahead, your mind was always somewhere else. But you're right, as much as I hate it, I need to let go. All of these feelings need to go. I need to let go."

I stood, taking his dirty hand and taking the bottle away from him despite his cursing. Then I just let him fold into me, what couldn't fit between curled over us. His tears were loud, long, and soaking my shirt between screams of agony. The shell has been shattered, and he can finally break even. It was a long time we stood there, but I was more than willing. A broken man was in need of fixing. Humpty Dumpty needs to be put back together again.

A soft knock separates us. "Am I interrupting", Nate asks shyly.

Dylan shakes his head, wiping his teary eyes. "I have some cleaning to do".

Aiden stands behind Nate, shaking his head, " You are not cleaning now. Bedtime. You're gonna have a massive hangover like every other night for the last two weeks. Broken glass cannot be well handled by a drunkard". Dylan pouts, but that's the only protest he makes before sliding into bed. He was barely awake to begin with. Nate and I have a silent agreement to leave, so with a nod and hugs goodbye we're out the door.

What are we going to do with him? Would he be considered an alcoholic? probably. I don't know much about addiction though, I know Dylan has had issues with it in the pass, but he got over that. Technically, this was from a mental collapse that I caused. Does that make me a bad friend, a bad person? I'm not sure, but would I be if I didn't send him to rehab? It isn't that serious. Things will get better, right? Yeah.

Things always get worse before they show any sign of getting better