Medicine || h.s (on hold)

six

I had finally reached my breaking point. Over the years, I would laugh at the slightest idea of something going terribly wrong. I made my life worse than it was, but I never expected it to be taken to the level of where I didn't know if I would be able to recover. At this very moment, I didn't know what would be the outcome of my situation. I knew I messed up, and I knew I couldn't take it back.

Hell, it isn't even that. I knew my barriers and the fine lines with the demons in my life that I knew I should never cross, but I did anyways. I've always been one to believe in listening to yourself and not letting anyone else tell you how to live your life. As I aged, I realized I would never be able to fully control my wants and desires. There is always the possibility of a negative downfall with anything you do. I always seemed to discover that.

I always seemed to receive the bad sides of things. In a way it was always out of my control. It was like life didn't want me to see the good. I may never know what I have done to deserve what I receive.

As I laid in the arms of the perfect stranger, falling in and out of consciousness, I seemed to feel nothing.

I felt absolutely nothing at all. It was as if I was being shut off from the pain I would have been feeling mentally and physically. Feeling no pain entirely may be one of the worst things. Humans have a desire to feel. We always have wanted to be able to experience and absorb the entirety of anything. That is simply just how we are, and the fact that I felt nothing at all confused me to a point that I couldn't even talk about.

It is one thing to do terrible things to yourself, but another when others do them to you. I had put myself through hell and back, and now I felt like I was stuck in between.

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5:08 a.m.

I was dry heaving over the toilet bowl after I spilt out what should've been the last of my stomach contents, but it kept on coming.

The bathroom reeked of vomit as I laid with my head on the toilet bowl. I slowly turned to my left trying to keep my head up and saw Elijah with his head in his bruised hands sitting against the door. He turned to look up at me with such a sadness in his eyes that I don't know if I will ever be able to get that look out of my head.

"What's wrong with me?" I groan out in exhaustion.

His eyes eagerly look up to me as he moves towards me. He wraps his arms around me as I collapse into him.

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you Athena." He whispers.

And I begin to cry. I have not felt this low in such a long time, and I am feeling a surge of emotions that I do not know how to handle.

I do not think I've ever been more thankful for Elijah than in this moment. I always took him for granted, and I've always questioned his judgement. Even tonight's outcome happened due to me "disobeying" him. He was my older brother, and he always looked out for me even when he acted like he hated me.

As I lay here sobbing into his shirt, I realize I cannot sit in this puddle of sadness any longer. I felt like absolute shit and sitting in this vomit stenched bathroom did not help.

I started to stand up on my feet as I collapsed again, but Eli was there to catch me before I hit another block of tile.

I began to remember every detail of what had happened as I vomited into the long hours of the night. What had happened made me vomit even more when I thought about it.

I remembered every fucking detail of Mason's face. His smug look as I began to feel hazy as I fell onto the floor.

At first, I thought it was my fault that this happened to me. I was the one who didn't listen to Elijah, I was the one who decided to have "one" drink when I knew I shouldn't of had any.