Through thick and thin; A Conor Maynard fanfiction

Thirty

Conor's P.O.V

I close my eyes as I lean against the cold clinker wall behind me, letting the steaming hot water drench me as I tried to take a few deep breaths, each of them hurting my chest so bad I consider just to stop trying.

Usually showering calmed me down when my anxiety levels peaked yet today nothing seemed to be working, it could have with the fact that I'm at Jack's in London or the fact that I'm hungover for like the first time in ages. I never go out anymore, not like I used to anyway, still yesterday night had been an exception.

My relationship with alcohol clearly wasn't healthy if I simply couldn't spend a single night out without coming home completely wasted and out of my mind.

Jack's still asleep, he was nearly as bad as me last night still I am two years older, I've got a family and kids I need to take care of, he only had himself, he still was as young and carefree that I wished I'd be.

Like sometimes I wish my life wouldn't be what it is, that I still could go out every weekend, work late nights and hang out with my friends exactly when I wanted to.

Don't take me wrong, I love what I have, I love my girlfriend, my daughter and son to come, I love my house and what I do. But I feel as if four years of my twenties have been taken away from me, four years were everything was dull and dark, four years I only remember as tragic and sad.

I try washing the stinging smell of alcohol off of my weak body, the smell that was so familiar still so foreign, it held so many memories of times I always wish to forget, times were I drank myself to sleep each night, times were the alcohol was my only comfort in life and times where I'd done stuff I'd never share with anyone because of the explicitly.

The face I see in the mirror as I step out from the shower is nothing I'd ever expect, I was pale with dark circles underneath my now bloodshot eyes, I look proper dead, the pounding headache and hurting chest only adding to that clarification. I was slowly but surely killing myself, maybe not physically but mentally.

My fingers inspect my swollen and brused ankle, I'd clearly hurt it last night, still it was only now that the numbing of the alcohol had run off that I felt the pain.

It hurt as I limp over to Jack's grey sofa. I knew I could be clumsy but to hurt my ankle on a night out had never been my intention. I rub my face, feeling the tears burn in my eyes as I tried hard not to cry, the anxiety slowly taking over my helpless body.

I wanted to scream, tell the whole world about my inner feelings, how I felt like I could explode any second and how my mind was constantly  occupied by dreadful thoughts yet I kept quiet, I tried to live a normal life, not worrying too much about the fact that my depression was slowly taking over my life.

Only being able to take small breaths hurts so fucking bad you don't even understand. Having your lungs screaming for oxygen, your chest feeling so tight as for everytime you breathe in it feels as if someone's stabbing you, over and over again.

It wasn't that often that it was this bad and all I want is for it to end, the voice inside my head driving me insane.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

I couldn't hold it in anymore, I had to let it out, the tears finally flooding my cheeks as I let go of my inner shield. I wanted someone to understand, someone who could change me to what I wanted to be.

My hands squeeze my head hard to get rid of the voices, to stop them from telling me what to do, to stop them from changing me into someone I don't want to be.

"Shhh, Conor it'll be fine"

Jack's soothing voice suddenly blend with the high pitched inner voice. His hands pressing against my shoulders to get me to sit back down.