Help Me (sequel to Save Me)

Chapter 2

Just like every day, Remington is woken at eight o'clock and given his medication, to which he snatches from the doctor and swallows angrily, not understanding why the hell he's here. The doctor sighs and makes sure he's swallows the pills before moving onto the roommate, who's leaving soon.

I wish I was leaving soon, Remington keeps saying in his head, it's not fucking fair.

At breakfast, he sits alone on a table and eats the bland food, watching others around him. Everyone here seems to have friends. How can they make friends so easily? After breakfast, they're given an hour of free time, and so Remington retreats back to 'his' room and lies on his back on the horrible bed. "Why don't you talk?" His roommate asks suddenly.

The singer, or ex-singer, rolls his eyes. "I do talk, just not to people I don't like." He knows he comes across as harsh and rude, but what he really means, underneath all this rudeness, is that he's too scared to talk to anyone.

"How do you know you don't like me?" The guy asks, sitting on his bed.

Remington is shaking. He wasn't before. "I just know," he states, keeping his hands hidden because he's ashamed of trembling so much at such a simple thing.

Smiling thoughtfully, the stranger stands up and approaches Remington's bed. "You're lying," he says, voice suddenly low, rough, scary. "You're a fucking liar." That's what Holly would say. All the time. In that same tone of voice. Harsh and flat and full of accusation. God, it terrifies him. He though he came here to get better, and now his own fucking roommate is terrifying him. Fantastic.

Quivering, Remington shuffles back until he's sitting against the wall, and hugs his knees to his chest, wishing he could hug his brothers instead. He would do anything for a hug from Sebastian. Literally anything. He wondered what was wrong with his roommate, why he's here, and know he knows. "Please don't," he begs, old habits taking over. "I'll be good, I promise. Please don't hurt me." He isn't sure anymore if what he's seeing is real. It seems that hallucinations are more common than he originally thought.

But when Holly appears in front of him, he knows it isn't real, and he wishes he had enough mental stability to tell himself that. But he doesn't, so he screams. She smirks her evil smirk and extends her hand out towards him, her acrylic nails as sharp as ever. "I will do what I want," she growls, eyes glistening with perfect murder. "Don't you dare fucking move."

Remington's eyes are wide and teary and his heart is thudding against his ribcage. Why does this keep happening? "I'm sorry, Holly please, I'm sorry. Please," he tries, bringing his hands up to shield his face from whatever she's about to do to him.

"No." Her voice is so terrifying. And Remington can't move. Or breathe. He sees her hand lift above her head and he presses his body into the wall, wishing to disappear. "Close your eyes." He does as he's told, not knowing any differently, and waits for it; the pain.

But it never comes.

He is tense, trembling, and praying that when he opens his eyes he'll be at home with Sebastian and Emerson, and they everything will be okay. But he doesn't dare open his eyes. If he does, maybe Holly will be there.

The door is opened by a doctor who's been alerted of the situation by Remington's roommate. He cautiously approaches the bed. "Remington, can you open your eyes?" The boy hears this voice and knows that it isn't Holly. But it also isn't Sebastian or Emerson. He forces his eyes open. "Are you alright?"

He's angered by this question. "Oh yeah, I'm doing fucking wonderfully, as you can fucking see!" He sits up straight and wishes he hadn't shouted. It just keeps happening. "I'm sorry," he says, "I didn't mean to shout." As he's talking, he looks around the room, checking that Holly isn't there somewhere, waiting for his next weak moment. "I need help," he finally admits, "I don't think I'm okay." Remington hates that he's saying this. He wishes that he could just keep pretending that everything is fine. It's easier that way.

The doctor is relieved. "It's time for your shower," he says, watching how the young man's face falls.

"I can't," he says, "not now. I'll have one later." His voice is weak. He wants a hug from Sebastian.

Sebastian wants the same. He wants to be able to see his brother everyday, to know that Remington is near him. It's weird, but he misses being woken early in the morning by the boy, and then holding him to his chest as the younger drifted off to sleep. Sebastian feels so empty now; now that his brother has gone. And while he's only away for three months, it feels like a lifetime and a half.

Alcohol has become his escape. And if he isn't drinking, he's sleeping, or passed out on the floor. He pays no attention to Larisa anymore, and if he's being honest with himself, he doesn't love her like he used to. It hurts him to think about, but he can't think about anyone else other than his poor brother, locked away in that fucking hospital against his will.

When did life get so hard?

They made me have a shower today. It was terrible. Oh my god, it was so terrible. I hallucinated Holly again and shouted at some doctors. I said I need help. I hope they can make me feel better so that I can go home and hug Sebby.
I hope he's okay. He's probably drinking again. I hate it when he drinks. He never knows how to stop once he's started. We used to fight about it all the time, before the whole hotel thing happened. That changed everything. EVERYTHING. I can see Em and Sebby in a few days. I'm looking forward to that. I hope they are too. They will be, right?