REMEMBER // Calum Hood

Seventy eight // nightmare

It is 3.18 a.m. but I can't tell you what day it is.
Is it the weekend already?
I've been locked inside this bedroom for so long that I can't even differenciate the days. They are all the same anyway.
Whats the point?
I still can't understand how I ended up at my old apartment seeing as I don't remember calling an Uber that night. Did I walk all the way here? His place is too far from campus and it wouldn't be safe to wander the streets alone that late at night. But to be honest, my safety was the last thing in my mind that night.
All I wanted was to get as far away as possible from there. From him. As if walking away would ease the pain or erase the memories that haunted my mind. I would be on the first flight to Japan if it did.
I'd give anything to forget.
I also don't know how many days of work I missed nor did I care. Not more than two people would notice I was gone in that office and I can't say if it makes me relieved or even more insignificant. I skipped a bunch of classes but ever since my trip to London, my professors would cut me some slack seeing as I was so busy building a career.
Ironic, huh?!
I don't know if my family tried to contact me and I hoped they were not too worried. I could've simply reached out and grabbed my phone on the nightstand to send them a text but I never did. I had no strength to call them to give a simple excuse so I could only hope Jason had done it for me. I couldn't stand the thought of having to lie to them. Like I had been lied to.
My phone had ran out of battery somewhere between rereading old text messages and looking at our pictures together and I never bothered to get up to fetch a charger. Truth is that a part of me was relieved when my phone died, ending the misery I was purposely putting myself through.
Pain was my only company inside this bedroom and locked in here, I was shielding myself from the real world. This cruel reality. Trusting my friends to handle everything else for me, I sat in Jason's room waiting for time to pass.
Sleeping away the days to make it go away. To make it stop hurting.
My only hope was that time would heal the wounds he had cut through me.
They say time heals everything.
But how much time until the pain disappeared? Until I felt in control of my own memories, instead of a prisioner of them. I was so tired of feeling like this that I simply wished to stop feeling altogether. Why couldn't I have a button to switch off my head? Unplug the cable that connects my thoughts so I would stop thinking.
The worst part was the rage living inside of me for allowing him to hurt me this deeply.
A blister pack rested under my pillow but I don't remember ever placing it there. I recognized the medicine as being the one Drew takes for his allergies and without giving it a second thought, I put the pill in my mouth, struggling to swallow it without any water. It made me drowsy and I enjoyed the sensation.
Within few minutes, I was off.
I have no idea how long I stayed in Jason's bed, reliving past memories and ignoring the present. Days went by where I didn't move a muscle out of bed and still felt as tired as if I had ran through the entire city. Thoughts consumed my mind and my exhausted brain would put me to sleep without warning. Dreams would mix up with reality to the point where I didn't know what was real or not anymore. Drowning in tears, I prayed to wake up from this nightmare.
Could it all have been just a nightmare?
It has to be but I don't remember falling asleep.
I also don't remember eating but my mind has some flashes of Drew walking into the room with a tray of food. I don't remember going to the bathroom but I couldn't possibly have endured more than a day without peeing, right? Or maybe I did. My dehydrated body didn't need to lose anymore liquid than the amount of tears I had shed. I don't remember showering or changing clothes but looking down I could see Jason's baggy clothes dressing my body.
I don't remember any of it. Those were details - small details - that seemed too unimportant compared to what I do remember.

It all happened on a Wednesday night. The night I've been replaying nonstop in my head ever since it happened.
The middle of the week and the end of it all.
He was wearing a white T-shirt that ended ruined with tears. He had bought roses that ended up smashed on the floor next to the broken vase. His house was filled by the soft melody of a romantic song but all we would hear were raging screams spitting out hurtful words. He held my hand and I slapped him in the face.
His face.