September. (A Josh Ramsay Fic)

Twenty Four - I've Given Up On You

I knew where I was going instantly. I didn't even have to think about it before I started walking. It was not a place I had ever been, merely one I'd heard of. I'd overheard a girl in the street one day talking about how it was the most commonly used suicide bridge. So I knew it'd do the job, as long as I landed in the right spot. Because that's what I wanted to do- I was going to kill myself.

It could've been called childish that I had upped and decided to kill myself this suddenly. I could be called irrational, unstable, a danger to myself. The truth is, that was what I was. Josh had irreparably fucked me up for months, and that was all I could think of. I was obsessed with the idea of blaming all of my responsibilities on Josh. It was his fault I was stuck loving an addict. It was his fault I became one myself. It was his fault I was pregnant with a baby who would quite possibly also grow up to be an addict. Like father like son.

I hadn't meant to tell him, just like I hadn't meant to tell Matt. I didn't want anyone to know. I thought that maybe if I just pretended everything was fine, it would all just turn out to be a bad dream. But I couldn't ignore that I was waking up every morning with the need to throw up my guts.

And in my last hour, as I waded through the thick grass and swampy mud of a freshly rained-on Vancouver, I couldn't help but think of the few months which had undoubtedly turned out being both the best and worst months of my entire life.

I thought back to how it started. Nick embarrassed me in front of the entire school for a bet. I was humiliated, and I felt like utter shit. I'd begged my mom to move us, find somewhere else for me to start again. All I wanted was to distance myself from the degradation I had just experienced. I never wanted any of this to happen.

I remembered the day I befriended Matt. He was a sweet kid, and all he seemed to want in life was a friend to call his own. He accused me of cheating because I could swing higher than him. He thought I was too nice to be mean. Now all he thought of me was that I was drugged-up scum.

I reminisced about the time that Josh invited himself to mine and Matt's ice cream outing via his egotistical, self-complimentary text messages. I could hear Matt's yelps as the downpour broke out above us. I could feel the rain hitting the ground around us, and smell the wine-soaked bars of the climbing frame we had taken refuge under. 

I could feel Josh's arms around me the night I'd found out about his addiction. How his eyes pierced mine as I questioned him the day after. I could smell the vinegar stench as the smoke had curled up and ascended towards his bedroom ceiling. I could picture the mountain of ice cream he had ordered that day- he had later confided in me that ice cream made him sick, and that's why he ate so much of it. 

Shadows of Josh's lips against mine after his concert played endlessly through my mind, shunning the sound of the meat-handed man who had grabbed me a mere half hour before that. I laughed as I remembered the way Josh has threatened him with security. We hadn't even been together at that point, but even then, he had been viciously protective- more so than I could ever remember him being now. I couldn't help but wonder if it had always been that way, and I just hadn't noticed it until it was gone.

I found a momentary happiness in reliving the first half of my time here. It wasn't long however, until the memories turned sour. Instead of laughing with Matt or kissing Josh, I could see him lying unconscious on his bedroom floor, hear the humming of the ambulance as I rode beside him. I felt the anger at his ungratefulness of me saving him. I could feel his eyes stinging me as I walked into that classroom and sat down beside him. 

I remembered the heat, oh god, the heat. I hadn't felt it then, but I sure could now. Flames licking at every inch of my exposed skin, burning and scarring me and destroying his home. It seemed unimaginable that we hadn't realised what we were encircled by before it was almost too late to save ourselves. 

It hadn't been the same when we'd gone back to that house. The stench of smoke and the blackened ash which covered every surface, having made itself at home in every crevice of the lot, it was immovable. Josh had salvaged anything that wasn't burnt or destroyed, but I had no idea what he'd done with the items- I don't remember seeing them since.

I knew why Josh smelt of puke when I saw him next after we had fought that day. I had felt it in my gut at the time, but he'd already confirmed my suspicions. He'd never said it outright- I doubted he ever would. But I had seen him, how he made excuses and took bathroom breaks more often than anyone else I had ever encountered. 

I remembered falling through the porch, and my still-bandaged leg ached. I wasn't even supposed to be walking on it without crutches, let alone taking what seemed to be an almost-hike; there were quite a few hills between where I was and where I was destined to end up. 

I remembered the club more vividly than anything. It seemed that thousands of people had crammed themselves into one room, no bigger than my living room, the sweat and alcohol mixing together under the hot fluorescent lights, the vibrations of the music sweeping crowds of people across the room. 

The tall, handsome guy who had sparked our argument came to mind. Thinking back now, he wasn't even that attractive. My only desire towards him was one of pissing off Josh, which I found was a common theme in everything. All I did was to affect Josh in some way or another- I'm doing this because I want to anger Josh, I'm doing something else because I love him. He had leaked into ever corner of my consciousness, and he seemed to be the only thing that mattered. He'd dug himself under my skin, broken down my defences, and he was poisoning me from the inside out.

I thought back to when I found out about the baby. It was the day before the club. I was terrified, I broke down and cried. I had decided that I would find a solution on my own. Because I could solve it all on my own, right? I didn't know what I had wanted to do with the child, whether I would have brought it up or given it up for adoption. I just hoped, prayed even, that whatever I did, it would work out okay in the end. That I could do it, and for once in my life, do it right. The one thing I didn't want was to fuck up the baby.

That hadn't really worked out as I had planned though, had it. I'd selfishly confessed my state to Matt during a point which was supposed to be his breakdown, his sympathy. But I'd hijacked it for more narcissistic attention, just as I always do. I tried to be better- it hadn't fucking worked.

Telling Josh was not something I had ever planned. I wasn't sure why. I'd played thousands of different scenarios of the conversation between me and Matt in my head, however I had never even considered Josh finding out. It just wasn't conceivable to me. 

This is probably why, I thought to myself. Somewhere, deep down, you knew this would happen. You knew he would freak. You knew it would be the end. You just wanted to delay the end as long as possible- keep up your own longevity just a little bit longer. But that isn't how the world works. We all have to end our stories at some point- and maybe this is your opportunity to end yours, September. It just comes down to whether or not you're ready to commit to all of this.

"I'm fucking ready." I breathed, clenching my fists, and walking on.