Things Are Not What They Seem

Part 21: ...

(Trigger Warning, you guys already know that yes? Throughout the story there has been a BIG trigger warning. So yeah. This isn't any different. We're reaching the end of the story. This isn't the last chapter, but it's one of them. I hope you guys have been enjoying this story!)

Darkness.

I felt nothing, and time passed as I slowly started to wake up.

I groaned, and sat up suddenly.

Why the hell am I in the infirmary?

It hit me, and I blacked out again.

This time it was shorter, but I wished it was forever. I remembered everything, and the doctors and campers that passed by my room gave me looks of pity and sorrow.

I decided to do a calming exercise, where I did square breathing.

Inhale.

One, two, three.

Hold.

Exhale.

One, two, three.

I repeated the exercise but I couldn't calm down.

Now you might be confused.

Shocked. Curious.

Here's how this shit happened.

I walked into the bathroom, and saw him.

Sunshine, my sweet, sweet, sunshine.

I saw him there with eye bags, sickly skin, pills all around him, there was no life in that bathroom.

He's dead.

My sunshine, and I didn't even notice.

I didn't notice any sadness in his beautiful brown eyes the last night before he decided to die...

I knew it, I couldn't deny it because sorrow had already overtaken my heart.

I couldn't wake up to see his smiling face anymore, I couldn't wake up to see him snuggled up against my chest, his bed head adorable as ever and him looking so peaceful as he slept.

He was dead and gone, and that was that.

I laid back down on the hospital bed, and wept.

The heaving sobs that you can't make quiet, the kind that knocks the breath out of your chest and makes it impossible to think anything will ever get better.

I had fallen back to my depressed ways, and I knew this time, there was no stopping it.

I knew I would never find love again, because I would always think of him.

I would never look at the sun again, because I would think of how his beautiful eyes looked in the sunlight, and how his eyes lit up because of the nickname I gave him.

I would never be able to look at the same world again.

Now I don't know this for sure, but I think he killed himself not because of he thought that he deserved it, but because of the fact that he was just so unhappy in this cruel world.

It made me hate myself to think that I couldn't help that.

I couldn't make him happy enough to stay in this world, and that hit me hard.

I screamed and jumped out of bed knocking over the glass lamp, the bulb breaking, along with the lamp, glass going everywhere.

The pain I felt was pleasurable, and I smiled when I saw the glass sticking into me, the blood dripping down me.