demons | nash grier

chapter seventeen

WARNING: please don't read if you are likely to be triggered, i don't want anyone to think suicide is the answer. it isn't the easy way out and it DOES get better. i know it may not seem like it but i have been there. you will be okay ❤️❤️

- - -

nash

i breathed in deeply as i walked into my room. i hadn't moved arianna's bag from where she had left it, just near the foot of my bed.

"i can't do this, ari" i started to cry, praying that she could somehow hear me wherever she was. i walked over to my drawer, pulling out the wooden box. the rag didn't smell too nice due to the dry blood from the previous times i've done this. i set the box down and went downstairs. it was quiet in the house because my parents were still at ari's service.

"i'llsee you soon, baby," i mumbled, grabbing various bottles of pills, downing 10 from each bottle. i went upstairs, ripping a page of paper out and writing my final words. i was starting to feel nauseated and a little dizzy, but i pushed myself to write out the note. i made sure my door wasn't locked before pulling my blade out of the box. i didn't want my body to be stuck in my room.

i squeezed my eyes shut as i slashed my left wrist.

"shit," i yelled, putting pressure onto it with the rag. the feeling of blood oozing out of me and the sight of it made me feel nauseous. i needed to stop the flow so it didn't get all over my carpet.

as i felt the warmness of the blood, my stomach churned, causing me to throw up the contents of what i had just swallowed.

i heard my front door open and i cursed to myself, attempting to stand up to hide the blade and rag. i knew the vomit would be a different story. my door swung open and there stood my mom.

"nash!" she cried out, running over to me.

"chad, call 911!"

shit.

- - -

"and how many times have you attempted, nash?" the doctor questioned, holding the clipboard on his knee.

"5, now," i responded dully.

the doctor scribbled onto his sheet. he was probably writing something along the lines of, "this kid is fuckin' nuts."

"you lost a lot of blood, mr. grier," he announced. my mom had tears running down her cheeks, her eyes looking out of the nearby window. i felt horrible for doing this to her, for making her believe she'd lose her son.

"nash why do you do this?" she begged for answer, sitting down beside me and taking my hands. my wrists were exposed and i knew she saw the slashes, the newest one being stitched due to its depth.

"hayes, take sky out," i mumbled to him. he took skylynn out of the room without a word, leaving me with my dad, mom, and stepmom.

"i don't want to live anymore." i answered the earlier question flatly, being straight forward. my stepmom gasped.

"please don't say that," my dad said immediately. i looked at the gauze on my arm and the IV's replacing blood i had lost, the beeping of the machine beside me just reminding me that i was alive, but arianna isn't.

i miss her.

i know arianna didn't want me to do this to myself. i know i should respect what she wants. but death didn't scare me anymore. the only thing that did scare me was myself. if i didn't do this to myself, i would be miserable, alone with my thoughts. nothing could be worse than this, not even death.

"now i understand why you may want to commit suicide, nash, but it isn't reasonable." dr. gratier, the psychiatrist in the hospital told me.

"and why is that?" i questioned her, nearly mimicking her tone with me.

she pursed her lips and sighed.

"you don't need to please people in life. you should never rely on someone for your happiness because every person on earth is temporary, including myself. you live for you."

what if i don't want to live at all?

"okay, ms gratier, i understand." i said calmly. bulllllllshit!

"we need to keep you on watch for awhile, i have had your parents remove any sharp objects from where you can find them."

"am i five?" i chuckled humorlessly, earning an unpleased look from the psychiatrist.

"no, you are a sixteen year old boy who has tried to end his life more than 3 times," she said sternly. i put my hand up defensively and was pushed back to my room in the wheelchair i was in.

twitter was a mess. the news had leaked somehow. i didn't want to read what my fans were saying or how they were taking it. i couldn't let them see that i was miserable now, that the person they lived for didn't want to live.

@taylorxversace: @Nashgrier i love you

@nashtysgurl420: @Nashgrier stay strong please i love you, you're the reason i'm here.

@plasticdale: @Nashgrier we love you bro.

i put on my best act for the doctor and nurses the 3 days they held me. i was released, but home was no better than the hospital. it was worse. and why's that, you ask? my family would NOT leave me alone. i either slept in their room, hayes slept in my room, or we all slept in the living room. it was tiring and i was waiting for the day they would leave me alone even for 10 minutes so i could get it over with. so i could be with her again.

@Nashgrier: wasn't it beautiful when you believed in everything and everybody believed in you?

the responses from the fans were worried or the typical "stay strong!" but i didn't care to read the rest. i love my fans, don't get me wrong - but the tweets towards me lately are all the same. i decided to check my dms for the first time in a long time.

"nash how are you feeling?" it read.

"dandy" i replied. i took note that my house was eerily silent, my heart racing. an opportunity?

i headed down the stairs, only to find my dad standing in the kitchen reading some sports magazine near the cupboard with the pills.

"how are you feeling?"

"dandy," i replied, feeling like this was a déjà vu moment.

i grabbed a glass and poured some juice into it, downing it quickly before going back upstairs. next time.