Blame It On Me (TomTord)

Ch. 3

⚠️ Suicide attempt warning ⚠️
[Tom's POV]
I don't know how they could forgive that bastard. After getting a couple bottles of Smirnoff, I headed back to my apartment.
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Me and Tord, never really had a good, or at least decent relationship. Back when we were kids, we had a love-hate relationship. We knew we were friends, but we would get into fights easily, that sometimes ended up becoming physical. Sooner or later after years had passed, we went to the same middle school after we left elementary, and then to the same High school. By then, Tord had become a little shit. He bragged about test grades, and acted like a faggot. He would always talk to me about shit that I didn't care about. He became 'new'.

After the second year of High school, we started going our separate ways; not really talking to each other. I was fine with that, because he was just another little bitch who tried to be popular. Tord, actually succeeded on becoming one of the "liked" kids in school. All the girls were going crazy about him, and were talking random girly shit about him every second. Tord, obviously didn't care about the girls. If anything, he was probably gay. But he couldn't resist the attention all of the fan girls were giving him every day, so he started talking to them.

I started noticing during the third year of High school he became more closed off. But the year had nothing more eventful. We didn't talk. But Tord didn't talk to anyone anymore. He seemed depressed. Like there was nothing to live for anymore. I had no idea what had happened to him over the summer, but whatever happened must have hit him hard. He went from a full-on optimistic, and cocky personality, to a depressed and weary one in one summer. I thought he might need some help, but I couldn't bring myself to talk to him.

After High school, we went to different colleges, and before you knew it I had a job. I worked part time as a musician in different restaurants. And after, I decided to rent a bedroom and move out of my parents old house. That's when I met Edd. We became friends pretty soon because I rented a room from him. Afterward, about a couple years after I had moved in and became comfortable, Matt moved in. Even though he seemed stupid at first sight, which he was, we became close. And just when I thought life couldn't get worse anymore, Tord had moved in. I was shocked to see him. But pretty soon, we went back to being friends, like there nothing ever happened to split us apart in the first place.

Then, Tord decided to be a dipshit and move out. He said it was to "Fulfill an old dream." Old dream my ass. But my life hadn't changed that dramatically after Tord had left. After he left, it put me back directly where I started. With Edd, and Matt, enjoying life, and binge-watching "The Children" and "The Cats" all day long.

Edd one day informed me about something, but I took no interest in what he said. A week later, I caught Tord trying to lock pick back into his old room, which is MY ROOM. He leaves us, and comes back after EIGHT YEARS. Edd happily invited him back into the house, but Tord acted differently. He was always trying to do things behind our back, and other things, but most IMPORTANTLY, HE TOOK MY SMIRNOFF. And after, I discovered he was wanted by the police, for over £900,000. And that's when the incident, that I like to call "The End," happened.
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And now that your all caught up, you have to be able to understand why I hate Tord being back, after that little shit betrayed us.

I unlocked my apartment door and started to fumble through the drawers to find a bottle opener. After looking, I found it in my second drawer. I popped off the cap on my Smirnoff and started to drink the bottle, while sitting on the couch, grabbing the remote and changing the channel to "The Cats." I finished the bottle pretty quickly, but my eyesight was extremely blurry. I just laid on the couch, falling asleep slowly. I knew I was going to have a hangover tomorrow, but there's nothing I could do about that except dump a bottle of painkillers down my throat and wait. There's just too much in my life right now. An old friend who betrayed me, and for your information, tried to murder me, Edd and Matt, is now living back with us, and probably going to take my room. And somehow, Edd and Matt sided with him. It's like two walls crushing me. They somehow don't understand that a murderer is inside of my house. But then again, nobody understands me.
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[Next day] [Tom's POV]
I woke up in the morning, with the expected headache flooding through my head, giving a tingly sensation through my legs. It made it hard for me to walk, but I trudged to the bathroom to get painkillers. And to my surprise, the painkillers were gone. I didn't know who would have taken it, so I checked with Edd first. He was still asleep, so I decided not to disturb him while he was sleeping. Matt was talking to himself in the mirror, and I remembered Matt has 1/4 the brain of a monkey, so he wouldn't even know how to take it without anyone noticing him at night. And then that left Tord. I slowly walked to his room, my hangover making my brain pound inside of my head. I turned his doorknob, to find Tord with the bottle of painkillers in his hand. The lid was open, and some of the pills were missing.

"Hey, wake up fuckwad," I said to him, smacking him across the face. No response.

"Are you passed out or what?" I asked him. I remembered Edd talking about how Tord was depressed yesterday. My heart started pumping faster. Did this dude really overdose himself? I moved my legs as fast as I could, which wasn't actually that fast, to Edd's room. I grabbed the doorknob and twisted open the door.

"EDD, I THINK TORD OVERDOSED," I said, before tripping over a rug that was on the floor. Edd got up and rubbed his eyes, stills sleepy from being just woken up. "Huh...Tom it's like 5:20, what did you say?" Edd said softly.

"I SAID TORD JUST OVERDOSED HIMSELF." I screamed while I was still on the floor, with no mood to get up.

"WHAT?!" Edd screamed, running to Tord's room. I saw him carrying Tord, bridal style, over to the living room, and placed him onto the couch. He whipped out his phone, and dialed 911 (actually 999 in England, thank you to who corrected me). I heard a little bit of what he was saying, but not much of it.

And then, I passed out.

[1174 words]