love, suki ☆ fezco

suki osaki

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Suki Osaki was born in Shizuoka, Japan, but her family migrated to the United States when she was eight yers old. They lived in Harlem, New York for seven years, where Suki developed a strong New York accent until her father found a job in a small suburban town.

The first I met Suki, I was fifteen.

I knew she wasn't "normal" after the first day we hung out together. Not that people who have mental illnesses are not normal, but if you really paid attention, you could tell she was going through a lot.

Suki had Autism, Borderline Personality Disorder and a whole bunch of shit that was co-morbid with her illness. She didn't usually get depressive episodes, it was very rare if she did, but when it did happen, it usually lasted like a month. Whenever she was manic, she felt like god; nobody could touch her. But most times she was stuck in this weird middle ground, kinda hallow, if you get what I mean. She once told me that she wanted the ground to swallow her up and I didn't really say anything, but I understood what she was saying.

I had already been an addict by the time Suki moved to town. She was fifteen the first time she tried Xanax, courtesy of Rue Bennett, my fault. Suki said it was everything she could ever need, that she wanted nothing more than to numb herself even more than she already was and Xanax did just that.

Suki became equally addicted as I did. The only difference was that she did a better job at hiding it then I did.

I was sixteen when I overdosed, Suki was already seventeen. My little sister, Gia, had found me and called her. She made it to the house at the same time the ambulance did. Suki ran into the house screaming Gia's name and she saw me laying there. And god knows Suki wanted to cry, but she was too numbed up from the drugs. My face kept flashing in her eyes like rapid images as she held Gia, waiting for my mom to come home. Suki left the moment my mom stepped foot in the house.

The drugs started to wear off as she ran. And she ran and ran until she reached a small corner store.

"Ashtray!" She cried out for the little boy, "Ashtray, where's Fez?!"

Fez comes from inside the house, "Suki, what the fuck happened?"

"R-Rue, she-she overdose!" She sobbed. If not for Fez, Suki would've fallen on her knees.

"She what?" Fez asked eyebrows raises in shock.

"Gia called me and when I got there, she was just laying there. She's my best friend, I don't want her to die!"

The truth was that Suki didn't need more people dying on her. Her grandmother died of cancer when she was 7 and her grandfather committed suicide a few months after. When she was 13, her best friend had been hit by a car while riding his bike and died on impact. And then, when she was 14, her older brother had been shot and killed due to gang violence.

So, in other words, Suki was sick and tired of death.
I didn't know this at the time, but Suki was really suicidal, she had been way before she moved to town. She wasn't scared to die, it was more like she was scared to hurt those around her.  She wanted to die, but she didn't want anyone else to die. And it was bit hypocritical, honestly, but Suki didn't think anyone needed her.

And how far from the truth could she be? Her parents need her, her little sister needs her, Fez needs her, and most of all, I need her.