The Drugs Don't Work

I really should be working on my other fic, but this idea wouldn't leave my head. So uh, enjoy... I guess.

This will probably be a short one-shot by the way, unless people want me to build upon it.

He had never intended for this, had never intended to cause pain to those he loved. He knew he made them worry sometimes, but he was pretty sure never this much. It was almost like putting the dead before the living, and it was all just so... stupid, pointless, unfair. Why did they have to see him like this? He knew he'd never get any better and they were never supposed to find out.

Find out about his mental state.

Find out about his depleting health.

Find out how much the war really affected him.

Most of all they weren't supposed to find out about his drug abuse.

They had though, it had all been laid out in front of them, along with his battered and broken body. Sprawled out on the floor of his trashed apartment where he'd collapsed that morning. The needle he used still clutched in his hand, the fist he punched the wall with still bleeding.

The morning where it all caught up to him, and the truth came out.

That morning had been stupid, pointless, unfair, just like every thing else left in his shitty life.

His hospital bed felt like a wide open plain and he was the lone vulnerable deer in the middle. Except here there was no hunter, no way to end all his suffering, he desperately wished there was.

He wished there was a wide open sky with slowly drifting clouds to distract him from all the hurt he caused.

He wished there was tall green grass to block out all the disappointed faces, teary eyes, pitying looks, and worried stares.

Beautiful birds to remind him that life, in fact, can be beautiful.

Dirt to burry all his sorrows.

A flowing river with pure water to wash himself of all his sins.

An arrow to set his soul free.

His hand shook and it reached for that endless open sky. He reached as far as he could, straining his deteriorating body just to make it onto one elbow.

He was almost able to sit up completely, but the weak arm holding him up gave out and he crashed back to his pillow. Failing to grasp what he knew he would never reach.

Weather he was high or not it was always the same.

Shoulders shaking, voice cracking, he spoke softly. "I-I've always failed haven't I? Always f-failed, and failed, a-and failed. A-Always fell back down." He barely managed to choke out the last words before he could no longer hold back his sobs.

He heard people around him crying too, and wondered if they had fallen as well.

If like him, this time they would not be getting back up.