Until I Collapse • @vscomultii

Chapter 18 // Grayson

Home should be a place that makes you feel happy, safe, and loved. When I step out of the back of the ambulance and face my house, I'm surprised to find that instead of feeling comforted, all I feel is empty and alone. I wish that I could go back to the hospital- I felt safer there.

I walk the pathway to the front door and step up on to the porch. Shoving the key into the lock, I push the door open to reveal the old, empty foyer. The floor is littered with shoes, like they were thrown everywhere in a rush.

Bright afternoon sunlight struggles to get in through the closed blinds, like we lived in the dark. Oblivious to the outside world.

Dr. Price is helping Ethan inside, and he begins setting up the stair lift. I tell them I'll be upstairs, and I thank Dr. Price for everything.

"Check in whenever." I can tell he likes Ethan a little better, which almost makes me upset. I push it out of my head and wait for his response to dismiss me.

"I'll be coming by every few days. Good luck Grayson." I begin to walk away, but he adds, "please go eat something. And remember, no closed doors." I feel like a toddler, the way he reminds me to eat something. I almost expect him to tell me to clean my room next. I smile back one last time, but Ethan and Dr. Price already are already heading towards the living room.

I slowly begin to climb the stairs, heading towards the bathroom. I can't remember it being this much work, and when I get to the top stair I sit down for a second to catch my breath.

I use the bannister to pull myself up, and walk over to the door. When I get there, I stare at the knob. I swear I can see a little drop of blood, but maybe it's just my eyes playing tricks on me. I nudge the door open with my foot to avoid touching it with my hand.

There's so much blood. The coppery scent of it hangs fresh in the air, like the accident was recent. Or at least more recent than it was.

I can barely breathe; I'm too overwhelmed by the feeling of death.
Of misery. Of being alone.

I hear the door close as Dr. Price leaves, but I hear nothing after that. It seems familiar when I'm gasping for air, clutching my arms and calling Ethan's name. Crying, but fully conscious this time.

Ethan's wheel chair speeds down the hall, and I feel so much better with him closer.

"Grayson, are you okay?" He frantically calls. "Please, this can't be a repeat of last week."

I sit in the blood, directly in the center of the bathroom floor. I feel it all over me, but I can't get up. My shoulders are heaving as I sob out more tears than I thought were possible. Every tear I haven't cried since I've moved comes falling now.

Ethan pulls himself down next to me. His strong arms wrap around me, and I rest my head on his shoulder. He's trying to calm me down, but my nose is running and my breaths are short and skipped.

"I'm sorry." Ethan begins talking, and he's frantically shoving words at me so fast I can barely make sense of them. "It's all my fault. I wanted to move, I wanted to leave it all behind. I left the relationship we had behind in California for something I thought would be better. I thought that we'd be happier. But it started off wrong, and I just let it get worse." Ethan's crying now too. He's only lifeless from the torso down, but his whole body looks dead.

"If I had only paid more attention to you, you wouldn't have gotten like this. One of us isn't gonna live, and I'm the one to blame." He's stuttering his words, barely able to breath.
Ethan leans away from me and grabs the blade off of the counter and holds it in his hand. His next question shocks me.

"Did this really make you feel better, Grayson?"

At first I'm worried he's gonna use it on
himself. I try to take it away from him, before he can take his emotions too far. Then I realize what an asshole I am.

He tried to stop me from hurting myself. He tried, and I didn't listen. And now I have the audacity to get scared he's gonna do what I did?

"You tried to stop me. You told me not to, and I went and did it anyway. I felt like I could do anything when I was cutting, not that it's a good excuse. But I felt," I searched for the right word. There's only one way to describe it, "invincible." He sits there, staring at the blade.

"I wanted you to like me. I stopped eating, and I thought that would fix it. No approval, I had to find something else. But there was nothing else I could do."

My throat stings, and I feel like I've said too much. But the words are coming up like a form of vomit, and I can't keep them inside. "I had no one except myself, the hunger, and the blade. I became bored with myself, and the hunger was miserable. But the blade never failed to make me feel better. It just made its way through me so easily. I barely even had to think twice. It was like the blade and I were meant for each other."

I rip the blade out of his hand.

"It ruined my fucking life." I stand up and only then do I notice how hard Ethan is crying. He's blubbering something along the lines of "please stop". I don't want him to feel bad, but the words unwillingly continue to come.

I pull off the hospital gown and stare at my practically bare body in the mirror.

How didn't I notice?

"It took me months to even notice that I'm barely even here. I was so blinded by my own negative thoughts telling me I wasn't good enough. You tried to help me, and I didn't listen. And now we're both screwed over." I can't stop staring at myself. Every bone in my body juts out at an awkward angle. I'm disgusted with what I've let myself come to.

"You shouldn't be sorry, Ethan." I'm crying, scratching at my wrists. I feel a few of the cuts opening up again. I try to stop it with the towel, like last week.

But the blood keeps on coming, and so do the tears.

"I'm sorry I let you down."