Died (Layne Staley ❤️)

Interruptions

The Present, December 1996

The guilt crushed the very core of Layne's soul. Leaving him spread out too thin within the depths of the black abyss that was his mind. The memories of Demri, how she had gotten bacterial endocarditis. How she blamed him for it.

He was pissed off & filled up with remorse. The emotions were too much. He was slipping, deeper & deeper, into the hell that his thoughts had created. They painted an ugly picture on a canvas of death, revealing to him the disgust that grew like flies to road kill.

Layne stood there, staring at the reflection in his dirty bathroom mirror. He looked terrible. His hair was a shaggy, tangled mess piled ontop of his head. He was so pale he almost appeared transparent. Anger burned crimson on his face as he continued to just stand there, staring himself down, sucking on his cigarette.

Suddenly, he couldn't control the rage anymore. He yelped out an irritated shout, pressing his lit cigarette deep into his forearm. He was so high off morphine, he didn't even flinch from the heat of it.

"I can't feel anything," he muttered. Fat tears rolled down his sharp cheekbones.

His eyes slid back to the razor that rested upon the sink. He's been thinking about doing it for a while now. Just ending it all & slicing across the veins of his wrist. To bleed out. The only thing that kept him going was the thought of his mother. His family. How devastated they would be if they found out he took his own life.

He honestly didn't know whether he would want to die that way, anyways. Bleeding out like that. He could overdose. It would be easier that way. He wouldn't feel a damn thing if he died that way.

But maybe he deserved the pain of slicing the skin. Slicing it deep & slowly bleeding out.

A demented smirk creased his face, his own band's song Bleed the Freak playing in his head. He tossed the cigarette butt in the toilet, exiting the restroom & collapsing down into the couch in his living room. He cut a few more lines of cocaine, his eyes wide & bulging from his skull after snorting them.

He had been isolating himself in his apartment for days. His phone didn't stop ringing his first day spent in the hellhole. His mother & Jim kept leaving voicemails, pleading with him to head back home & try a little harder.

He was tired of trying. He was tired of everything. He wanted to die.

A shaky sigh escaped him as he grabbed the vile of morphine from his coffee table. He sucked up double the amount of units he had been shooting up. He went through the whole process, tears escaping him after he shot it up.

It was torment anymore, living this way. Not even the drugs helped. His brain kept mocking him, shouting at him about how much he fucked Demri over. How he shouldnt have given up on her. He should've stayed by her side through it all & fought the urges to use when he was around her. He should've helped her.

It was his fault she ended up that way, after all.

He jolted from the couch, fighting back more of the tears that threatened to fall down his face. He grabbed the razor & fell back into the couch. Those blue eyes analyzed it, how the silver gleamed & sparkled under the lamplight. It seemed so innocent. So innocent, yet, could kill so quick.

Like heroin.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He was about to run the razor across his arm when the sound of knocking commenced. Those tired eyes shot wide, glaring over at the door.

The knocking continued, this time harder. It caused the door to shake.

Layne sat still as a statue, like a deer caught in headlights.

"Layne!" a muffled voice called out through the crack.

It sounded like Liz. He bit his lip, his eyes back on the razor. He couldn't do it now. Not when he knew his sister was out there.

"Layne, I know you're in there!" She continued. She was now pounding on the door. "Let me in, or I'm calling the cops!"

Layne's eyes bugged wide open now, running to the door & unlocking it. He swung it open, tears escaping him when he took in her worried expression. He gestured his arms into his trashed out apartment.

"Come on in!" Layne boomed, sounding overly enthusiastic. "Welcome to hell!"

Liz shook her head at him. Her lower lip quivered, still shocked by the horrid appearance of her brother. She couldn't help it but to immediately pull him into a hug. Sobs escaped her when she felt his ribs jut painfully into her.

"Oh my god, Layne," she whimpered. She pulled back a bit, eyeing the distraught look plastered all over his face. "Layne, please... Please, just come to my place--"

"Fucking NO!" Layne shouted. He stomped back into his apartment & dramatically fell onto his couch. He crossed his arms stubbornly. "I'm not trying this sobriety fucking BULLSHIT anymore! I'm not in the mood to fucking spew my guts out about Demri, okay?!?! I FUCKING KILLED HER, I DESERVE ALL THAT IS HAPPENING TO ME!"

Liz ran over to him & held him when he broke down sobbing again. She didn't know what to say. She was utterly disturbed. Never in her life had she seen Layne this emotionally damaged. She eyed the angles of his face, her eyes watering when she noticed all of the bones that jutted from him. He was the thinnest she had ever seen him. He had lost so much weight he barely even looked recognizable. The huge dark bags under his eyes made him look 10 years older than his actual age.

"I don't deserve to live," he squeaked out. He covered his face in shame. "I don't deserve anything, you should just leave... I don't want to hurt you, Liz. I'm tired of hurting everyone... I'm tired of it all."

She shook her head, running her hand through his greasy hair. "I'm not leaving you. You're my brother, I love you. I'm staying here."

Layne removed his hand from his face. His brow creased. "You're NOT making me fucking clean up."

"That's up to you, Layne," she agreed with him. A sad smile came up on her face when she noticed the surprise on his. "I just don't want you to be alone in this. You need some kind of support. You're a fucking mess..."

Layne sighed & nodded his head. "Yeah, yeah I am," he muttered. He bit his lip, eyeing her. "You'll stay with me? Even though I'll be using?"

Her brow raised, glaring at the paraphernalia on his coffee table. "I can't make you stop... But I can still love you. That's what you need, Layne." A tear rolled down her cheek when her eyes met his again. "That's what you deserve."