Bittersweet (Wolfstar)

One

R E M U S

In his seventeen years, Remus has tried to commit suicide eight times. Scars riddle his mind and body; red and white and bulging on his skin, sadness and distrust and guilt in his brain.

This will mark the ninth attempt.

He lies peacefully on his bed, staring at his ceiling, a pill bottle clutched in his hand, holding the brim to his mouth, hesitant to tip it over. It seemed a perfectly fit way to die, as this would be the least painful choice in the matter. No blood, no razors, no cars or bridges or broken bones. Peaceful sleep. Forever.

His dad sits in his office on the other side of the Remus' bedroom wall, unaware that his son is wishing so desperately to die and, that soon, he may actually become dead.

Remus had written a note, hoping to ease the hurt he will instill in his father in such a short time from now. He hopes he won't hear the screams of anguish this time upon being discovered. That was something he has never and will never forget.

He repeats what he has written out loud to the empty room, avoiding the bottle in his hand. For being so certain of his decision, he is hesitant to go through with it.

"Dear Dad,
I hope you know that this is not your fault. It's never been your fault. You are all I had left, but I am plagued with nightmares, asleep and awake, of things that make it so hard to be all you have left, too. I'm not Me anymore, and you deserved someone different. I never make the right choices, or do the right thing. The best thing that has ever happened to me has died, too, leaving me here to drown in my own self pity. It's suffocating.

" Although I am going to join her and Mom, I love you more than anything in this world, but I need to get out of my own head. In any way possible. I need Mom and Nymphadora -I know she didn't much appreciate the name, but I've always been quite fond of It- but they're dead and I will soon be, too. They had both left us here to survive alone, and I think I'd much rather be with them.

"Wouldn't you?

"With Love, R.J. Lupin"

He isn't even listening to himself anymore. Just staring at the ceiling, tipping his hand back. This is the only way, he thinks, swallowing as many of them as he can, over and over until it's empty.

Remus heard a knock on the door what could be minutes or hours later, but he is too weak to move. His fingers and toes are ice cold and he hasn't been able to move since the sun started to set. "Remus, do you have a calculator I can borrow? There's a few..." His father trails off, looking over his son, the letter in one hand, and empty bottle in his other. "Remus, no." He whispers, "No, no, no." He sprints forward and grabs Remus under the shoulders. "No. No. Not today." He sobs, pulling him off of the bed and dragging his limp body into the bathroom. Remus is hoping he passes out. He should soon. He has to. Please. His father sets them both in the bathtub, holding his son in his lap, turning on the hot water from the shower head and cradling the boy. "God, let this work." He shoves his fingers down Remus' throat, as far as they can go, until the boy retches, a few spare pills coming up and bile. "Yes!! Yes!" He shouts, doing it again and again until Remus is dry heaving, still lifeless and blue-lipped. "Talk to me, Remus." He whispers, stroking the boys hair and face as he dials for an ambulance, rocking back and forth. "Talk to me. Talk to me. Don't be dead. Talk to me."

//

two months later

"Share to the group why you're here, please, Mr. Lupin." A man with long, white hair and a beard to match sits in an old, leathery armchair in a practically empty coffeehouse. Five others sit in identical seats in a circle with him, holding coffee or pastries or tea.