Vic
I stumble downstairs, unaware of how late in the afternoon it is. I should be thankful that I slept as long as I did, but my throbbing head is making it impossible to feel thankful for anything.
I follow the sound of clambering from the kitchen. I find Kellin putting away dishes. He turns his head to me and seems almost annoyed which worries me.
"Hey," I say softly, sitting down at the table.
Kellin grabs a glass of water and two pills from the counter before placing them in front of me on the table. He promptly turns back around and continues what he was doing.
Okay, he's definitely mad at me.
I think back to last night, trying to remember anything I could have done to upset him, but most of last night is hazy and the memories feel just out of reach.
I clear my throat nervously. "What time did I get in last night?"
He turns and looks at me frustrated.
"You didn't. I had to come and pick you up. You were hammered by seven." he mumbles.
Maybe that's why he's annoyed. He had to come and pick me up.
I pick up the aspirin Kellin has placed in front of me and put them in my mouth then swallow them with a gulp of water.
"Do you want to explain what happened yesterday?" Kellin mutters placing a plate down on the counter. The noise it makes is so loud that I'm surprised it didn't break on impact.
The noise doesn't help my headache and neither does Kellin's interrogation.
"Am I not allowed to drink?" I sigh, rubbing my temple.
His jaw clenches and he glares at me harshly.
"You think that's what this is about? I don't care if you drink, Vic." he snaps.
"Then what is this about?" I sigh tiredly.
"You didn't call, you didn't text, I was sitting at home worried sick about you." he stammers, tears starting to form in his eyes.
My heart aches as I realize he's seriously upset.
"And to top it all off, you call me to pick you up from a bar, Vic. You made me walk into a bar!" he exclaims. "I'm a fucking recovering alcoholic. How selfish can you be?"
Tears are sliding down his cheeks and his anger is quickly fading. He looks tired. And it's my fault.
"Kell, I'm, I'm so sorry. You're right. I was selfish. I didn't think." I whisper, feeling beyond stupid.
He pinches the bridge of his nose for a brief second then he looks back at me with soft eyes.
"It's fine. It's fine. I'm okay. You're okay. I just want you to be more mindful in future. You can drink, but plan ahead. Let me know where you're going and organise someone to pick you up beforehand." he murmurs.
"Yeah, of course." I mumble but I still feel like absolute shit.
I can't believe I was so selfish. I risked my husband's sobriety. I'm an idiot and an asshole.
A deep hatred begins brewing in the pit of my stomach and in the forefront of my mind. And I'm scared. I'm scared of what it'll do to me—of what I'll do to me.
Kellin walks over to me and pulls my temple to his chest then he gently kisses the top of my head.
"I have to go to work. Make sure you rest up, okay?" he murmurs, letting go of me and beginning to walk away but I panic and latch onto his wrist.
"You're leaving? Do you have to?" I whisper, terrified to be alone with myself.
"I have to work, Vic." he says tiredly. "One of us has to."
His words trigger a memory from last night.
"I, I think I got offered a job." I stammer out, unsure of the truth behind my words.
Kellin looks stressed.
"At a bar." he sighs knowingly.
Then I feel even more stupid. I can't work at a bar. I'll probably come home smelling like alcohol and I can't do that around Kellin.
"Right," I mumble, feeling defeated. "I'm sorry."
"You don't need to be sorry, Vic. I told you, there is no pressure. Just take your time. You'll find something." he smiles softly. "In the meantime, I'm happy to work."
And with that, he shakes his wrist from my grip and heads upstairs to get ready for work.
I sit at the table, trying to give my headache and nausea as much attention as possible to distract from the poisonous hatred that is slowly bleeding into my brain.
I'm so focussed on the throbbing in my head, listening to it echo louder and louder, intensifying in volume, in vigor and velocity, that I don't hear Kellin approach me until he kisses my cheek.
The sounds in my head snap into silence.
"I'll try to come home early so we can watch a movie together or something. Make sure you eat something. And lock the door behind me. I love you." he rushes, then he's off without waiting for a response.
It's as though the sound of the door clicking shut is an invitation for my mind to delve right into the icy depths of depression, as if Kellin just let my demons into the house and shut the door behind him.
I put my head in my hands, pushing on either side of my skull with my palms as hard as I possibly can as if I were trying to squeeze the bad thoughts out of me. But it does nothing. Thoughts of how I've let Kellin down scream into my cranium, convincing me that I deserve to be in pain for all I've put Kellin through.
I just want the screaming to quiet, the heaviness pushing on my chest to ease, the self loathing to stop, just for a minute. So I listen to those thoughts and I pull out the sharp chunk of glass I keep stashing in my pocket. It's discolored and bloody from the extensive amount of times it's cut into my flesh. And eventually, for my own safety, it'll be blunt. But not yet. Right now, it's as sharp as it's ever been.
But I don't realize just how sharp it is until I've cut into my forearm a few more times, only this time, something's not right. There's more blood than usual. It hurts more than usual. And one deep gash across my wrist is deeper than the rest.
My breathing suddenly becomes the only audible thing as the world around me seems to be tinted in red. My heart beats thump against my chest and I can hear them in my skull, rapidly in tune with my hyperventilation.
I feel as though I'm about to pass out. I watch the blood poor down my arm and when it overpools on the edge of my wrist, it finally spills onto floor. It's the splash of dark red blood against the ash gray floorboards that brings the world back into focus.
It's the evidence that stops my internal panic.
Kellin can't know.
I stand up and fight through the immediate dizziness to get a kitchen towel from the counter. I take it back over to the splash of blood on the floor and wipe clean the traces of my accident. Then I wrap the towel around the bleeding wound and apply pressure, falling back into my chair as my knees feel weak.
I pick up my phone and have a moment of panic again. I can't call an ambulance, I lost my insurance when I lost my job and I can't afford it outright. I can't call Jenna, she'll tell Kellin. I consider calling my brother, he only lives a few blocks away, he'll be quick, but he'll definitely freak out. But maybe I could call his boyfriend, Tony, an old friend.
I don't waste anymore time and just take a chance, tapping on Tony's name in my contacts. I put the phone on speaker as it rings and tiredly rest my head against the back of the chair.
He answers with a chirpy, "hey man".
"Hey, Tony, I need a huge favor." I say breathlessly.
"Sure, anything, what's up?"
"I need you to come pick me up from mine as soon as possible. Don't tell Mike. Don't ask any questions." I demand.
"Is everything okay?" he asks, sudden worry in his tone.
"I said don't ask any questions. Just hurry." I breathe.
Then I hang up the call to not delay him any longer.
I sit against the chair for a few more minutes, trying to find it in me to move, but when I realize I'm just weakening by the second, I force myself upright. I'm so dizzy and nauseous I can barely see, and I'm not sure if it's from the blood loss or just my general panic.
I snatch the piece of glass back up and put it in my pocket and look for anymore evidence to conceal, but it seems all the blood is soaking in the towel and my clothes.
I stumble my way through the house and leave just as Tony pulls up against the curb. I watch his eyes go wide as he gets out of his car.
"Vic, fuck, you need an ambulance." he says rushing over to me so he can hold my unstable body up.
"No, no ambulance. Just drive me to the hospital." I mumble.
"Are you insane?" he screeches but walks me over to his car anyway.
"Tony, please." I say breathless.
He opens his car door and pushes me in and rushes around the other side before jumping in and taking off with urgency.
I take the moment to pull the towel from my arm and assess the damage. I can barely see the cut through the blood pooling out of it.
"Vic, what happened?" Tony asks glancing at my arm.
I cover it back up and continue applying pressure.
"It was an accident." I mumble.
"Accident my ass!" Tony shouts.
"I cut it on a broken glass." I lie, well, sort of.
"Bullshit, Vic!" Tony yells. "I'm driving you to the hospital, the least you could do is tell me the truth."
"I am." I whine.
Tony starts shouting some more but I'm becoming faint and he sounds distant.
"Tony," I plead desperately.
"What? What is it?" he asks quickly.
"Under no circumstances can anyone know about this." I tell him.
"What are you talking about?" he shrieks.
"Tony, please. No one can know. I'm trusting you. Just, please." I beg.
Tony sighs, seeming distressed.
"Not even Kellin?" Tony asks.
"Especially not Kellin." I murmur.
The blood loss takes over after that and I either pass out, or die. All I know is, it's painless, peaceful and perfectly okay.
YOU ARE READING
Scars (Sequel to Cuts) - Kellic // boyxboy
Fiksi Penggemar- Sequel to Cuts- Kellin struggles to recover from his trauma and Vic struggles to see his husband in pain, leading to a bad decision that has catastrophic consequences. With Kellin's happiness his only priority, Vic figures that their relationship...
