feel. → jacksepticeye

n i n e

My throat was raw and my head was just tethering on the edge of blindingly painful, but I felt my eyes snap open at the sudden sound of somebody clearing their throat. Wincing at the light coming from the curtains, I lifted my hands to my head and groaned.

"Ugh, what happened?"

Jack scoffed, "you were an absolute idiot, that's what."

I rubbed my eyes and sat up, feeling the hurt twitch in my chest at being insulted the very moment that I woke up. "I'm sorry?"

Jack, who was stood across the room in extremely scruffy clothing and baggy eyes, looking as if he'd gotten two hours sleep at most, glared at me. "Do you not remember anything?"

I shook my head, receiving a few images, feelings and sensations in my memory but nothing that could really be deciphered.

"Of course, you don't," he rolled his eyes. "You went to a party at the public pool and started taking a whole load of drugs. Whether that was consensually or not, I don't know, but you were so high off your tits you nearly got yourself drowned."

"I nearly drowned?" I asked, my voice cracking as I reached up and delicately touched a finger to my lips as my tongue moved in my mouth, tasting a faint hint of chemicals. "Oh."

"Yeah," Jack scratched the back of his head and looked down. "And I'm kicking myself for it because I sort of started it, didn't I?"

I propped myself up on my elbows as the pain in my head started to calm down, and that's when I winced at a sensitive part of my upper left arm. I probed it, noticing a purple bruise with a red pinprick in the middle of it. 

"I'm not sure I remember," I shook my head, biting back my tongue in hopes of avoiding the conversation.

"I'm pretty sure you remember," Jack remarked, clearly irritated. "You were mad that I was talking to Signe, and I get it, OK? I- I get it. If you want me to stop talking to her, if that's what you really want, then I'll do it. Because I love you,"

I smiled to myself before a subconscious reminder rose to mind and I threw the bed sheets off of me frantically in a fit of panic.

"I need to go," I told him, voice almost desperate.

"What? Why-"

"Jack, I just really need to go do something," I babbled, swallowing back the fear that grew in a lump in my throat. It felt like hands around my throat, and the thought of never easing that tension made my eyes tingle with tears.

"But I just gave up a friendship for you-"

"Jack! I need to go," I said, and he finally released me as I burst through his front door and slammed into my own apartment, feeling his steady footsteps behind me but having long thrown my care out of the window. I struggled to move into my bedroom where I yanked open my drawer and pulled out the small, orange tub. When I rattled it and found it was empty, I threw it across the room and dug further, finding only sleeping pills and other anti-depressants that never did what they read on the bottle.

Rushing back out of the room, I rummaged through the emergency cupboard in the kitchen and sighed in immense relief at the sight of a full bottle.

After knocking back two pills and pressing the back of my shaky hand against my lips, I squeezed my eyes shut and turned back towards Jack. 

His curiosity lay upon the orange bottle and he took it into his hand, reading the label with narrowed eyes. "What's this?"

"I, um," I hesitated, wondering whether or not it would be best to spill the beans about my disorder. I mean, it wasn't anything to worry about, it just made me a little on edge if I didn't take them. "Just something I need to take. It's no biggie."

Jack nodded his head for a moment, his now ombre-green hair moving against his forehead as he looked at me with uncertain eyes. "Are you OK? Is there something you aren't telling me?"

"Yes," I said, trying to reassure him all the while my glassy eyes were betraying me. "But I'm fine; everything's fine."

"Please, just talk to me," Jack pleaded, following me out to the balcony where I had found my restless legs wandering. "You know that I'd give up absolutely everything for you, and all I ask for is your honesty."

I considered this for a moment. I suppose it would be perceived as normal to actually talk about my problems, though I was sure that he'd blow them out of proportion.

"OK, fine. I've got a problem, Jack," I started, and he looked at me expectantly, his eyes comforting although haunting as I gripped the balcony railing. "I've got bipolar disorder, OK? That's it."

Sean's blue eyes widened, "what? 'That's it'? Why didn't you tell me before? This is serious, and you know I could've helped you."

"I don't need help," I shook my head, feeling the tears grow. "Honestly, I'm fine as long as I," I waved the bottle around, "take these. They taste like shit, but they do good."

"Please don't cry," Jack said sorrowfully, his voice noticeably quieter than before. I stayed silent, dabbing at the creases of my eyes with the hem of my sleeve. Sean pulled me into his arms, holding my close to his chest where I felt the flow of tears burst through. Wow, is this what genuine sadness feels like? Maybe it's because my privacy was breached. My cover's falling; slowly, but surely. I can't let him know anymore.

I put my chin on his shoulder, my cries quiet but diminishing to nothing when I noticed a familiar figure standing on the pavement three floors below. I wasn't sure if she could see, but I smiled down at her, but she only smiled back.

And that's when I noticed the men behind her: they wore smart, black clothing, a hat, a badge clipped to their front and something strapped to their thights. I immediately recognized them as police offers and held back a scoff.

Sly bitch.