The love letter and the suicide note

4:40pm

A/N

Possible trigger warning. Flashbacks again.

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Orson closed his eyes, trying to focus on Astra's fingers as they gently moved through his hair. It felt good, but it wasn't enough.

He squeezed his eyes shut and a small gasp escaped him as he grabbed Astra's knee and squeezed it as images appeared in his head.

Blood. Lots of blood.

Choking. He couldn't breathe.

Puking. He couldn't stop throwing up.

Pills. Empty pill bottles were on the ground. People were picking them up and putting them inside some bags.

The pills were inside of him. He was sick. He was hurting. Blood was covering his arms from all the fresh cuts. The blood was coming from him.

His body was shaking as blurry figures were trying to keep him still. He couldn't stop. His body shook so much to the point where they had to strap him down in the gurney.

He could barely see anything.

His whole body was in pain. He had never felt so sick in his entire life. No matter how many times he threw up, he still had to. He still had the pills inside of him making him sick and wanting to come out of him, wanting him to throw them up.

He didn't want to throw them up. He took them to keep them down, not to throw them back up. No matter how hard he tried to keep them down though, he was still throwing up.

His heart was slowing down, and it felt like it was squeezing hard inside of him, swelling, like it was going to explode any minute. It hurt.

His lungs felt like they were starting to collapse, and he couldn't breathe. He was suffocating. He was suffocating on the air that tried to enter his lungs.

He couldn't breathe. White foam was blocking his throat, coming out of his mouth and sliding down his neck, choking him. Suffocating him.

Poison.

He heard screaming. He heard crying.

But it was coming from him. He was screaming. He was crying. His body was giving up on him. Everything hurt.

The hands never left his body, they kept him still as they wheeled him away. Wheeled him towards the sounds of sirens.

His vision was blurry as the walls flew past him. He couldn't make out the people next to him, he couldn't see them, but he knew they were there to help him.

"Orson." A girls voice said, and his mind came back to reality for one second to feel a hand shaking him, before he was back inside his mind.

"Hey sweetie, just look at me. It's going to be okay." A woman's soft voice said to him as a blurry figure leaned down towards his face.

He felt himself being lifted up, and then he heard doors shut. He heard voices, but there was too many for his brain to understand, it just sounded like ringing in his ears.

"Orson." He heard a girls voice again, and he opened his eyes again as Astra shook him a little, but that didn't seem to help because when he closed his eyes he was back in the hospital.

"Hi sweetie, I heard you overdosed." A woman smiled sadly at him when she walked over to the bed he was on. "What made you do that?" Her voice was so soft, but no matter how much Orson wanted to feel safe with her, he didn't.

There were about 3 IVs attached to his arms when he looked down, and he started crying when the realization of what he did came crashing down on him. Why was he still alive? He was supposed to be dead. He didn't want to be here.

"Hey!" Orson's eyes snapped open at Astra's voice.

She was leaning over him, holding his face in her hands. Her hands were shaking and tears slid down her face. He was facing her, she must've rolled him over.

"Please tell me what's going on. Please. You were having some sort of seizure or something! You were freaking out, it scared the hell out of me. You were choking." Astra was crying as she held tightly onto his face. "Please. Please tell me what's going on."

"Star."

Orson didn't know what to say, he didn't want to tell her. He didn't want her at his house, he didn't want her seeing him like this. He never wanted anyone to see him like this, especially weak and sick.

He didn't want her to help him. He didn't want to see her anymore.

He couldn't get close to her, he couldn't get attached. He didn't want friends. Having no friends meant he'd have nobody to take down with him when he went, and he sure as hell didn't want to take her down with him, because that's what he was doing. He was going down and he was taking the innocent girl down with him.

He wasn't going to meet up with her anymore. He wasn't going to ruin her life. He couldn't let her get hurt.

He didn't want to hurt her.