//hate to feel//

//1//

Layne paced his apartment loudly, his breath ragged and his body shaking. How could he have run out so quickly?

He thought he had some extra in his bottom drawer, but there was none to be found. Just a bunch of empty needles.

Without heroin, he was nothing. He couldn't function without it.

He checked every nook and cranny of his apartment, but it was no use. Tears fell from Layne's eyes, what was he going to do?

He fished his cell out of his pocket and flipped through his contacts, and found Mike's. He was about to press on it until he realized that Mike had said he wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

"You're a fucking addict Layne! You don't even care about us anymore! We could've started a band, gotten popular, toured all around the world. But you threw your talent away because all you care about now is that fucking poison you're putting in your body! Sean and I are done with your bullshit man. Have fun dying."

Layne bit his lip, remembering that night. The day Mike had found out that despite telling Layne to stop taking heroin, he kept doing it in secret.

Then he realized that Sean wouldn't want to talk to him either.

The tears fell faster now. Not out of desperation though, but out of loneliness. He had nobody.

Layne's heart began to ache. Mike and Sean were just waiting for him to die.

Maybe you should just fucking end it. A voice in his head taunted, and he shook the thought away.

You're just an addict Layne, take one of those syringes and stab yourself with it.

"Stop..." Layne whimpered, bringing his knees up to his chest.

But Layne found himself walking into his room and grabbing one of the needles.

With tears blinding his vision, he held the tool against his neck.

In truth, Layne didn't want to die. He was scared. He just want somebody to care.

With shaky hands, he grabbed his cellphone and looked through all the hotlines saved onto his phone until he found the number for the suicide hotline. This was it. This was his last shot at life. And if this wasn't going to work, he'd end it for sure.

The phone rang a few times, and then someone put him on hold for a few minutes. He was about to hang up, until he heard a soft voice break the silence of the loud waiting music.

"Hi, my name is Jerry, what's your name?"

Layne stopped for a second, and then sniffed. "L-Layne. My name's Layne."

"Well it's nice to meet you Layne. Why did you decide to call today?"

"B-because..." Layne cleared his throat, "Because I'm trying to take my own life."

"Why are you trying to take your life Layne?"

Layne's chest tightened at the sound of Jerry's voice. "Because I have no one."

"That's not true." The voice replied, their voice sending shivers down the singer's spine.

"Oh really?" Layne let out a sob, "who cares?"

Layne could almost hear Jerry's warm smile through the phone. "Me."