songs:
six days at the bottom of the ocean - explosions in the sky
medicine - daughter
gøner - twenty øne piløts (first version)
When I came to from my spontaneous slumber, it was still dark in the room. I leaned towards Tyler's bed to find it inhabited by a pile of tangled sheets, but no Tyler. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, images that my eyes had seen moments before etched into the back of my eyelids that I could say when I blinked.
I crept through the doors, cringing as a cold wind whispered against my skin. I glanced up, where a ladder could be seen climbing to the ceiling, where the small square door had been pushed open, and from where I stood, it appeared to be a small dark square in the ceiling, where a sprinkle of stars trembled in the sky.
The realization finally hit me. The gut wrenching feeling that Tyler was up there, standing on the edge of the top of the building, contemplating his existence. He had told me the many times he had done this, but something- or someone- had almost always happened to be there to console him. He was already delirious. He could accidentally stumble off the edge without even meaning to.
I swallowed hard, skeptically placing my foot on the first rung. It was cold metal, and my feet curled in surprise. I felt around for the next rung, and the next, until the next surface my hand recognized was rugged concrete, the cold twilight winds nipping at my wrist.
I pulled myself up, my eyes darting from side to side. There was no slim figure standing near the edge, white gown billowing behind him, arms extended out from his body, feeling the last rush of wind, the last breath, the last shiver before he let his knees give out and diving for the pavement.
I jogged towards the area I imagined him standing in. The wind grew more intense as I curled my toes slightly over the edge of the platform, forcing myself to look down, but I could not see what I desperately thought I wouldn't see.
"Tyler?" I called out, my voice raw from sleep, but the response was nothing but the faint hum of car engines a few blocks away. Deciding he wasn't here, I moved backwards slowly, but a wisp of hot breath on the back of my neck stopped me in my tracks.
I almost turned around to see who it was. But the two hands pressed firmly under my shoulders were binding me to immobility. I drew in a sharp breath before I felt my body lurch forward and the velvet sky became concealed by the building above me. Each window whizzed past me in a dark translucent blur. My body twisted and rotated, my arms straight out.
I wondered, is this what it feels like to fly? Is this really how good it feels to leap and dive down, experiencing at least one last exhilirating moment before it all comes to a cold, silent halt?
My face now inches from the pavement, it all dissapated.
I was strapped down to a bed in an empty room, my muscles clenched so tight it felt as if my brain might burst. I couldn't remember how I had ended up here. I couldn't even remember what had happened seconds ago. I was diving without a parachute to a wonderful land called the Pavement That Would Surely Kill Me If I Jumped High Enough. But I didn't seem to mind. That was the most disturbing part. I had no morals. I had no reasons to live.
The doctor talked to me several minutes later. It wasn't Camryn, but someone new. I was too groggy to make out her facial features.
"Mr. Joseph found you in the kitchen at three in the morning trying to slit your throat. You made several very deep incisions in your wrist as well." She tapped her index finger on my left wrist that I hadn't noticed was heavily bandaged. "When we came to help, you acted as if you didn't know what you were doing. You seemed to be asleep. You were sleepwalking, Ms. Trohman. You attempted suicide in your sleep."
"Oh."
"Until you show improvement, you'll be isolated here and supervised constantly." Her eyes lightened. She placed a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry about this. I know you didn't mean to do this. We're going to figure this out."
I tried nodding, but it was hard to move my neck as I was bound so tightly to the bed. "Okay," I whispered, my face blank.
I had told Patrick I was getting better. But my mind, as well as everyone else around me was convinced I was nowhere close to that.
The last of the hope I had left had slipped through my fingertips. I knew everyone wanted me to get better, and I liked to imagine a world where that was possible; but I couldn't see it. I couldn't see myself getting better. I would either wait for my mind to rot and for all the lunacy that was building up to release itself and make me go mad; or I would find a way to end it for me. But my hope was gone.
I hated my thoughts. I hated every parasitic thought that claimed my mind as its host. But most of all, I hated who I had become. I couldn't think straight anymore. I could hardly look at myself in the mirror.
Would Patrick like this? How could he love me? I'm an empty shell.
The voices scream I am gone. Patrick let me be gone. Joe let me be gone. Tyler let me be gone. Ashley let me be gone.
Nobody wanted to catch my breath.
So I'll hold it.
I'll hold it for you, Patrick.
