A Peculiar Solace {Hardzello Love Story}

Two

Joe didn't plan on making friends at the ward. He wanted to last his stay, go back and properly kill himself in a way that would work this time. He thought about it endlessly. Maybe he would jump off a bridge or tie some bricks to his feet. If he hides his body, they wouldn't have to clean it up and worry about a burial.

His family would pretend he just ran away to find his own happiness. Everybody was a winner with their own little delusions. It would be easier for everybody involved. The medication they gave him didn't stop the thoughts, but it felt him feeling . . . different.

He quickly realized part of the reason nobody was running around or acting like they were in a crazy house was due to them all being hopped up on some kind of drug. How the fuck did they think pumping everybody up with pills and then sending them back to society was curing them? Joe didn't get it, but he didn't care.

Twenty-five days and counting.

The blond with the zippo found him at dinner time, taking his tray and going to sit across from him. Joe didn't interact normally. Just sat down, ate his meal, and then went on his merry way. He didn't care if someone sat with him or not. He wasn't there for communication. They sat there in silence until they didn't.

"Down the road, not across the street mate." He muttered in his deep, somber voice. He gestured towards the scar on Joe's wrist. He didn't try to hide it. Didn't try to pretend. They offered him long-sleeved shirts, but he took the short sleeve. Not like it mattered. It happened and it didn't work out. Move on and get over it.

"Yeah. Sort of realized that a bit too late." Joe answered him.

The blond swirled his spoon along the wet mashed potatoes. "The bloke over there, the tall one, tried to hang himself but he didn't measure the rope just right. Ended up slamming to the floor."

Joe looked over, seeing the near giant sitting in the corner. He had rope burn around his neck, barely healing.

"The lady across from him tried to swallow pills but used baby aspirin. Wound up nearly puking her living out. Quite amusing really."

"So what is everybody here just a failure?" He asked bluntly.

The blond shrugged lazily. "Not everyone. The old man in the corner there succeeded, but they brought him back."

The old man was sitting alone at a table, his shoulders straight and his back upright. He didn't seem bothered to be here. Joe would have been. He lost a lot of blood, but they didn't have to revive him. He never died. Just passed out.

"And you?" Joe asked, turning back to his own meal. "What did you do?"

The blond was quite like he was thinking over his answer. "I failed." He replied finally.

Joe left it at that. If the guy didn't want to talk about it, then he wouldn't push it. He wondered how he knew about some of the others and their own attempts. It turned out there was a group meeting where everyone had to sit together in a circle and talk about themselves.

It was ridiculous. Like a pathetic version of AA. Joe sat in a plastic chair, everyone's attention onto him. The doctor asked him to talk about himself. Where he came from and why he was there. Stupid.

"I'm Joe. I tried to slit my wrist but," he lifted it up, showing it off. "Apparently I don't like blood very much."

Some others introduced themselves. Joe didn't know if they were new or just wanted to share. Some mentioned that they had turned to alcohol or drugs to deal with their illnesses. Joe found himself darkly envious. He had never gotten into alcohol. He'd drink every now and then, but never enough to get a real buzz.

He wasn't popular enough in California to end up in the drug scene. In movies, they make it seem so easy, that dugs are all around. The good shit is too hard to find and yet he had pot, but that's not a real fucking drug. It makes you chill out but even that wasn't enough to make Joe not want to off himself.

Gateway drug his ass.

The brit was there, sitting back casually with his arm thrown over the hair and his legs crossed. He looked too fucking causal for such a setting.

"Anything you want to share, Ben?" The doctor asked him.

He was flipping the zippo again. Joe watched, waiting for the doctor to extend their hand and take it from him, but they never did. Ben shrugged. "Nah. I'm good." He answered. The doctor didn't push for more.

When Joe had his own session with the doctor, he brought up the lighter but they just shrugged it off. There was no fluid in it. No fire could be made. "It's part of his healing." The doctor has explained. "Is there anything that would help you heal, Joseph?"

Joe didn't give an answer. How the fuck could he heal when he wasn't broken? He wasn't shattered and didn't need to be fixed. He just didn't belong in this world. Easy as that. He had the right to choose what he wanted to do with his life.

He didn't want to hear some garbage about how God gave him his life and it wasn't his choice to do what he wanted with it. His parents gave him his life and his father was gone. His mom wanted him around, but he was a grown ass man. He could fucking choose whether he lived or died. Nobody should be sad. Nobody should be hurt. They wanted him to be happy? Then let him perish dammit.