Sweatshirts in July *Solby*

July 17th

15 days 

 For four days Colby sat in his room, he hadn't slept and had only left to use the restroom. His mother left him food and water outside his door, glad to see that he eats and drinks what she leaves. Mrs. Brock knew that the death of Samuel Golbach would hurt Colby but she never expected it hurt this much. Sure he was grieving but the boy hadn't even been bothering to shower. She was just lucky enough to see that he was using the restroom. He was sluggish and any time she was granted the gift of seeing him for a slight second he was wearing the sweatshirt Sam left for him. It hurt Mrs. Brock's heart to know that he blamed himself but Colby was a strong kid he would pull through this hard time, she just knew it. He was a Brock after all. 

 The room was Colby's safe space in there the voice of Sam wasn't as loud or taunting. The four walls was comforting and the constant knocking from his mother was almost soothing. Colby knew he should shower, get out of the house, do something to take his mind off of the blonde's death but couldn't force himself to move. He wanted to but he just couldn't. After a while he learned not to mind and just go with it. Sam's sweatshirt kept him warm as the summer heat penetrated his walls, and his journal sat next to him in the bed. The Golbach's gave it to him seeing as it hurt them too much to read. Colby was too afraid himself to see what the blonde had written in secret. The small notebook was light but every time Colby went to open it up impending dread filled his stomach. Was he ready to read the very thoughts of the broken boy? Could he handle it while this low in his feelings? Colby doubted it. Colby's real fear was that he would discover the very thing he feared, the notebook filled with all of his mistakes that inevitably caused Sam to kill himself. It was Colby's fault and it seemed he was going to slowly insane because of it. 

 Sam's voice, although taunting and scarily convincing, it was nice. The constant of it kept the brunette company, happy even though it had been hard to really smile the last couple of days. Maybe this was the artificial happiness Sam spoke about. Sam's voice often was scolding or violent, urging him to feel the same way Sam felt, the same thing he couldn't save Sam from. So Colby did. Small cuts decorated his arms, hidden beneath the very sleeves that hid Sam's own artwork. Colby thought it was slightly poetic and a larger part of him was mad that even did it. He may have lost Sam but he didn't have to lose himself too. Did he? 

 Colby was slowly becoming more and more like the broken boy he had so desperately tried to save. He was falling into a black hole that was inescapable no matter how much a big part of him urged him to climb out of it. It felt like it was only him and the voice of Sam that has taken residency in his head. The commands he obeyed like a dog, he was no longer in charge and it scared him. Was this what Sam felt like? Did the harsh words that his voices whisper sting just as much as his? He knew he needed help, counseling, something. 

 But Colby's mind was breaking and a part of him believed he could get through it all on his own. He didn't want help not even realizing that, that could be the very reason for his inevitable destruction. 

A/n: I hope this chapter is okay. I move into my college dorm tomorrow and Wednesday so you will probably get no updates for a couple weeks as I adjust to College life. Wish me luck and stuff because I don't think I will be a very good adult. Thanks you for all the votes, reads, and comments, they really mean the world to me!! ~Nightmare