It's You and Me

Ocean Full of Something

Where Craig is drowning, and Tyler is an excellent swimmer.

Warning: Self harm, attempted suicide, and implied mental and physical abuse. The video above is a movie I forced myself to watch, and the result being this thing here. Read with care <3

~*~*~*~*~

It's difficult to get through a life if you have no one there when you fall. You'll land in an icy cold sea, where you can't see anything below you, above you, or around you, and it's terrifying. 

You're a waste of space. You're nothing. You waste precious time. I don't want you here. I want you dead. 

Sitting there, floating there, sinking into the unknown, I don't feel anything. If you wave your hand in front of my face and scream my name, I won't see you or hear you. I see an ocean of nothing full of something I can't see, and I'm terrified. 

You did this. You weren't good enough. It's your fault, you freak. This is your fault.

It's a lot more peaceful though. It's quiet, there's no one yelling at you because you're in pain. There's no one touching you when you want to be left alone. 

Next time you leave, don't bother coming back. In fact, next time you leave, I want you to die so   I don't have to see you ever again. 

Until someone is stupid enough to dive in after you, and swim down, down, down, down, down, where you sit or lay at the bottom of the ocean. They dodge the unknown and they keep trying when they get hurt. They take you by the hand and guide you up. They risk their life for you, because for some reason they can't live if you're dead. 

Above water, on land, birds fly over head and trees wave in my view. I'm numb, but something is pressing against my chest, repeatedly. I close my eyes. Someone is counting, something drips on my face. A moment later, I'm coughing up sea water, doubled over on my side, shaking. 

My eyes shoot open, and everything hits me at once. My legs, my arms, my stomach, it all aches. Someone is touching me, gently, my chest, my shoulders, my face, holding it and staring into my eyes. They let go with one hand and grab something beside them, wrapping it around me. Their mouth is moving, but I can't hear them. 

They hold me, tight, rocking me. My throat feels raw, and like something was stuck in it. Something drips down my face, I can't tell if it was water from the ocean or tears. I'm not suppose to be here, sitting in this kind person's arms as they try to warm me up. 

I can feel a rumbling in their chest, and I realize that they are talking to me. I can hear them- him mutter caring words into my ear. Someone is on their way, they are going to get me to a hospital and. And I am going to be okay.

I start crying after that. I grip their soaking wet shirt and sob. He cries with me, mumbling about he almost lost me. Tyler, he cradles me in his arms and squeezes me, warms me... Then it hits me. God, I almost died. I almost died, I could have died, I would've been dead by now if it wasn't for him.

I want to speak, but my voices refuses to emit louder than a squeak.

"Shh, shh, I'm right here. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere. You're gonna be okay, I promise."

My vision swims, I can still here him speaking when I close my eyes, "I have you. I have you. I have you, and I'm never letting go again.

I think I passed out after that, because when I opened my eyes, I was in a room I didn't recognize. Tyler was awake next to me, although he looked really tired. He told me I was at the hospital, and I have been for a couple hours. He said once I was better he'd be taking me to his house. When I got some water down my throat, I asked about my parents. He didn't say anything, except that they didn't answer him when he called.

It's what I expected but it wasn't what I wanted to hear. I rubbed my eyes when they blurred. He grabbed my free hand, rubbing his thumb on it. 

"How are you feeling?" Tyler asked me, scooping my hand into both of his and kissing my knuckles.

"Tired," I muttered, leaning my head back and staring at him. "I'm sorry I did that." 

He smiled against my hand, and I sighed at another kiss, "It's okay, just..."

"Don't do it again?" I supplied for him, and he nodded. We didn't say anything else after that, he just massaged my hand for a little while. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, the sun was coming up and Tyler was half lying on my lap, half sitting in the chair I found him in. I ran my hand through his hair, smiling when he snuggled further into my lap. 

I shook him awake, and silently held the hospital sheet up for him. Rubbing his eyes, he cuddled in next to me and kissed my forehead, muttering a good night. 

I was discharged later in the day, and he took me home, as promised. When we pulled up to our shared home (with David and Lui), the door was partially opened. I would have thought that someone just came home with groceries and forgot to close the door, but when we got inside, there was blood on the living room walls, and two bodies lying on the couch. I screamed, and footsteps came storming down the stairs.

Three men with guns yelled at us, threatening to kill us. Tyler began to put his shaking hands up, in surrender, but a shaky, jittery child pulled the trigger. He fell to the ground, clutching his chest. Another scream caught in my throat. I didn't hear them curse and rush past me with most of our things, our trinkets, our decorations, our memories. I was kneeling by Tyler's side as he bled out in front of me. His eyes were growing dull and I tried to stop the blood.

When police cars and ambulances pulled up in front of our house, I was sobbing over his dead body, his blood on my hands. 

So what do you do when the one thing keeping you swimming disappears from your grasp? When you're just near the surface, ready to take a big gulp of fresh air, to start over?

You sink. Quicker than before. You let the unknown scratch and bite at every part of your body, let it rip away at your heart and lungs as you reach a deeper bottom than before. You sit there. And you suffocate.

This is why you'll find me on the beach, skin paler than a ghost, body filled with water, colder than ice. This is why you'll find me dead.

I'm sorry.

BECAUSE THE AUTHOR IS A FUCKING CUNT AND MAKES HERSELF CRY WHEN SHE WRITES SHIT LIKE THIS. 

YOU'RE WELCOME, YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE.