When The Bad Boy Hates You

Chapter 26

Hi everyone! I am placing another trigger warning for this chapter as it has references to self harm. If anyone is triggered by that please skip this chapter. Thank you :) 

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Blake had been unconscious in hospital for two days since the incident. They needed to keep him heavily sedately and had pumped him full of antidepressant medication. During those two days I only left Blake's room when visiting hours were over and I was kicked out by the nurses. Blake's parents were staying with him through the night which gave me some peace of mind when I left him for the night. 

On the morning of the second night Blake was in the hospital I walked into Blake's room with a coffee to find Blake's father leaning over Blake's passed out form. He had Blake's hand clasped in both of his and when I stepped into the room loudly, he jumped away from Blake to look at me. His eyes were filled with tears

"I'm sorry, Mr Huxley" I apologised and stepped back out of the room swiftly. But Blake's father called after me.

"Wait, Rose. Come in." Hesitantly I stepped into the room again, feeling uncomfortable that I was intruding on a private moment between father and son. Blake's father gestured that I sit on the seat near the end of Blake's bed, where I usually sat every day.

"And please call me Phil," Blake's father encouraged with a teary smile. I have never really had much to do with Blake's father over the years my mother has been friends with Jessie, my mother and Jessie usually caught up alone.

"How has Blake been while he was living with you and your mother?" Phil asked as he moved his chair back away from Blake's hospital bed.

"He just seemed lost, he never seemed depressed or unwell. He kept doing reckless things but he always did as my mother asked him to." I looked down at my coffee cup as I spoke and cupped my hands around its warmth.

"I never would have thought he would do this." I shook my head still unbelieving.

Phil gave me a sad but understanding look.

"He hid it well from us too before his first attempt. He won't talk to any more about it, he refused to see a psychologist, refused to go on medication. I think he believes he doesn't deserve to get better; he thinks he deserves to be in this pain," Phil explained with an emotionless monotone, he sounded dead inside. I squeezed the coffee up between my hands until my hands became white. I didn't know Blake was refusing treatment.

"Why?" I perplexed mournfully.

"That is not my story to tell." Phil gestured towards Blake, referring to the fact that this was Blake's decision to tell me those details. I followed his gaze and my eyes rested on Blake who looked so peaceful in his sleep. 

The black bags and worry lines around his eyes had faded, he looked so innocent and young. He still had so much life ahead of him and if he didn't get treatment then that might not happen. My heart filled with determination and I sat up straight in my chair.

"He will get better; I will make sure of it. I will help him start taking his medication and go to his psychologist sessions," I declared. The crease between Phil's eyebrows deepened and he looked at me with no hope in his eyes.

"I admire your persistence but I am not sure he will ever be able to recover from this. I am starting to believe that maybe death will be the best thing for him, living is torture for him and maybe continually saving him is just torturing him further. He wants to die, maybe we should respect his wishes," Phil lamented and dug in head into his hands. Outrage bubbled up within me and I stood up from my chair forcefully.

"How could you say that?" I barked in atrocity. "He only wants to die because he is unwell, with treatment he will be well again, he can live again." I stomped my foot and curled my hands into fists at my side to hold in my emotions, how could he give up on his own son?