Save me. (Remington Leith X Andy Biersack)

Chapter 74

Trigger warning.

"Sebastian got me sleeping pills," Remington says to Abigail as she reads through the notebook.

The woman lets her eyes linger on a particular sentence that's he's written. I don't know why I'm still here.

She frowns at the words and closes. The book. "Are they helping?"

The boy takes the notebook and shrugs. "I guess," he mumbles, closing up a little bit. "It's just-I keep getting the urge to-you know-overdose." He looks down and sighs, wanting to talk about the fact that he told everyone what happened.

"But you haven't. I know it's difficult to fight it sometimes, Remington, but you haven't given in. You called for help when you needed it and I'm proud of you for doing that." The therapist pours a glass of water for Remington, knowing he doesn't like to ask for one. He takes is gratefully. "Can you explain to me how you feel when the urge is there? What goes through your mind?"

Remington sips the water. "I-I sometimes get a headache, and my hands shake. I feel sick, or-or dizzy, and all I can think about is swallowing all those pills." His voice is quiet, careful, honest.

Abigail makes a note of what he's saying. "How do you resist it?"

"I don't," he says bluntly, "Sebastian hugs me until I go to sleep, normally."

She hums. "What would you do it he wasn't there?"

The boy takes another sip. "Swallow all those pills." He knows that he should try to be positive, but isn't it better to just be brutally honest? She's the only person who he can really talk to about this stuff.

"Alright. We're going to work on this, but for now, I want you to promise me that you'll call me if things get too much." She waits for him to say that he promises before continuing. "I read that you said what happened in an interview."

Remington nods. "Yeah. I did. I wish I hadn't."

"Why's that?"

He sighs, finishes off the water. "'s like I'm begging for sympathy. I don't want everyone to know. I feel exposed." He puts the glass down on the table.

Abigail understands. It's a big deal for Remington to tell anyone. "How are people responding?"

"I don't know. I haven't been on social media since the interview." That dull ache grows on him as he talks and he scratches his wrist, trying to ignore it.

Noticing his action straight away, Abigail sits up straighter. "Urges?" She asks gently.
Remington nods. "Try not to scratch, you don't want that to become a habit." Remington separates his hands, but stays silent. If he could, he'd bite his wrist until he tore a vein or two. "How are things going with Andy?"

The boy brightens up at this. "Good, actually," he answers, momentarily forgetting about his need to hurt himself. "He took me climbing the other day. It was fun, apart from in the night I had to get Sebby to pick me up because I got scared." And the craving returns. He scratches his wrist again.

"Don't scratch, Remington, breathe through it." The woman has her eyes on the boy's hands, making sure he doesn't draw blood.

Remington pulls them apart again and exhales sadly. "I didn't mean to," he mumbles, "it just-it just happens." His eyes are tearing up and he wants to put his head underwater and not come up for air.   "Can-can you sit next to me?" The question is so quiet, so scared.

Abigail nods and stands up. "Of course." She sits down on the sofa with him, not too close that it'll scare him, and talks softly, understanding that he's feeling vulnerable. "Have you taken your pills today?"

The boy shakes his head. "No-I-I was worried about overdosing." He only realises he's scratching again when Abigail carefully pulls his hands apart. "Is that why I feel so sad?"

When he doesn't pull them away, Abigail holds his hands in hers and rubs his wrists with her thumbs to soothe him. "It's probably why your urges are so bad today. Take two when you get home, yeah?" She notices the boy ease up a bit at her gentle contact on his skin.

"Okay," he whispers, "sorry." His eyes are glossy with tears and he sniffles.

Shaking her head, the therapist continues rubbing his wrists. "Don't be silly. No apologies. How are you getting home?" She doesn't normally ask, but Remington isn't usually this fragile.

"Driving." Remington doesn't want to drive himself home. It makes him anxious as it is, but having to deal with the craving as well?

No way.

"Are you going to be okay?" Abigail asks, concerned. "If it's scaring you, tell me."

The boy sighs. "It's scaring me." He feels stupid saying it, but he needs her to know. "What if I crash on purpose or something?"

Abigail stiffens at that comment. It sounds awfully like he's actually planning on it, like he's warning her that he will if he's alone. "Do you think you will?" She asks, knowing that if he says yes then he'll have to be hospitalised to ensure he's safe.

Remington shivers, looks away, and answers. "I know I will."