Addicted...

Chapter 24

One month. It's been exactly one month. Thirty one days. Seven hundred fourty four hours. Fourty four thousand six hundred and fourty minutes. That is how long Trystan has been this lifeless version of himself.

I hate myself so much. It's entirely my fault that he is in a coma but I avoided Trystan for almost two weeks. I came around to the hospital for a week just to make sure he's okay but I stopped in case Henry comes to finish Trystan for real. I hate myself for allowing Trystan to get hurt.

In the two weeks I refused to visit Trystan in the hospital I have obtained so many new scars completely by my own hands. Each day I made one scar to count the days. Henry jumped out of my bedroom window and got away without the police catching him. Trystan was rushed to the emergency room because he flatlined for two minutes after I passed out from my most severe panic attack. I scratched my arms and legs till the blood seeped through my skin without realizing. When I passed out I puked over half the contents that littered my bedroom floor.

Well it won't be my bedroom for much longer anyway...

In order to protect Trystan I have to leave. I have to. Although I wish I could stay, in a perfect life I wouldn't be in the run from my deranged stepfather and Trystan wouldn't have been in a coma for a month.

Why the fuck do I have so much problems? Why did I drag Trystan into my messy life? Well technically I didn't know I was going to share an apartment with a guy.

If Henry was here that means he'll come again and that's why I have to leave. I've endangered enough people. First Abigail, now Trystan. When will this all stop?

'When you're dead!' My subconscious voice rings through my thoughts. What does she know in anyway?

'You have to tell him. You have to say goodbye at least.' My subconscious voice pushes herself forward. I ignore my thoughts and try to keep busy.

I give up trying to read because my mind keeps wandering to Trystan. I quit my job at the diner last week. They would've fired me anyway, I skipped work and my wounds we're fresh and would give clients bad impressions.

Why does everything in my life have to be so complicated? I roll my eyes at my thought and start cleaning the apartment for the fourth time in three days.

Knock-Knock!

Knock!

Knock!

Knock!

"Okay, fuck I'm coming to the door. Chill out." I hope the bitch banging on my door has something relevant to say or I'm taking my frustration out on whoever it is.

"Mrs. Dickson. Welcome, come inside. Excuse my language I am just a bit on edge."

"It's Momma dearie. But how come my baby boy is lying in the hospital with a gunshot wound that almost burst his lungs?"

Wait. Mrs. Dickson is Trystan's mom?

I choose to ignore the question and just get onto my knees and start scrubbing the floor.

"Rebecka, answer my question. My son is on the verge of death. He is a few days away from going into a deep coma. I said I'd check up on you. Trystan can be a bit overbearing. He calls me to tell me he thinks you're the best roommate since the last three and now he's lying in a damned hospital bed. Explain." Her voice cuts through me like a knife. I can't tell her. But I owe it to him.

"Mrs. Dickson, I hope you can forgive me but can you please take me to see Trystan right now. I swear on my life him being shot was an accident. The bullet was meant for me, but some things happened and he took the bullet. I really wish I would've been shot instead but right now I need you to take me to him. I can't explain everything right now but please just trust me. There's something I have to do."  I ramble to Trystan's mom with tears in my eyes.

I vigorously wipe my eyes but not letting my head down. I'm looking at this woman expectantly. If she says no I'm walking to that fucking hospital but I have to tell Trystan now.

"Okay Dearie. I trust you. I know you wouldn't purposely hurt Trystan because you have that look." I want to ask what look but I decide against it. I just have to get to Trystan.

***

"Thanks Mrs. Dickson. You don't have to wait for me. I will call you as soon as there's news about his condition."

"Alright, Dearie. You're like the daughter I never had. I really hope Trystan gives a crap about you otherwise he's going to regret this for the rest of his life."

"What do you mean?" I ask but Mrs. Dickson already drove off.

I walk inside the huge building with the red cross in front of the entrance. With each step my heart gets heavier. Am I able to tell someone about my situation? Will I be able to trust someone for the first time in my life and come clean? I don't know how to answer these questions myself but all I do know is that I don't want to loose Trystan.

I don't want him to leave me. I don't want him to die.

Please don't leave me Trystan, please don't do that to me.

I know exactly where his room is so I open the door softly and close it behind me. I walk towards the empty chair by his bedside with a heavy heart. I lower my behind onto the pillow to stall for time. I need all the courage I can muster up.

Here goes...

"Hi, Trystan. I don't know if you can hear me or not. I really hope you can though. I'm here to tell you something no one else knows. And seeing I'm the reason you kind of look like this I feel I should tell you. I have to tell you about my past..."