Sanity // s.m. [IN EDITING]

[6]

Shawn

***

By the time I wake up, it was close to 5:30pm. The sun was almost setting outside the window, and my guitar sat untouched at leaning on the edge of my bed. The duvet was a mess, and so was the room. It looked like a tornado hit it.

The only thing in the room not disarrayed was me. Surprisingly, I'd calmed down a bit.

But then things start to sink in piece by piece.

Elliot, standing in the subway station.

Her eyes meeting mine as we walk down the street.

Sipping her coffee.

Walking out the door. . .

My Elle. My girl. She's gone.

Without meaning to, I sigh loudly and start crying. I cry for a really long time, and soon I fall right back asleep, which is the third time I've ever cried myself to sleep.

The first was on the day that my parents split and later my dad packed up and left. And I could hear Mum inside her bedroom, breaking things, screaming and crying. I could see Aaliyah from my window, running down the driveway after Dad's car.

And I sat there thinking, what happened to our family?

And I cried myself to sleep that night.

The second time was when I woke up alone without Elle by my side, a little note on the floor saying all this crap about how we can do it long distance and we can make it work and whatever.

And I remember reading it over and over again, thinking there's no way it could be real. It felt like something from a book or a movie, where the guy finds the letter and rushes to the airport and stops her from getting on the plane with a kiss.

But that experience was nothing like that-- she was already gone. She wasn't coming back. It was the worst feeling in the world. Just, like, dying inside. I felt cold and sick, and pretty much just like the average dead person might feel.

Today, I felt dead again.

It wasn't really the same feeling, but it was similar. I could feel the tug at my chest and the lump in my throat. I could feel everything inside me collapse. I wanted Elliot Johnson more than I wanted anyone in the world.

I didn't just want her back, I didn't want to stitch all the pieces back together in time. I wanted to reverse everything and go back to that night before she left and have her again in the same way.

I want everything to be how it was.

*

I wake up again around 6pm.

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror.

I looked like a mess now, but my mind was starting to clear again. My cheeks were red and my eyes were puffy, and my hair was carelessly swept across my forehead in a diagonal line.

I try to keep my cool, to not start crying again.

Slowly, I reach deep into the pocket of my jeans and pull out what I wanted.

The pills.

They weren't dangerous, Andrew had them prescribed for my condition. I just didn't think that things could be so bad that I would need pills to keep everything in sync.

But I guess I'm at that level now. Because sleeping it off doesn't help, and even guitar doesn't help.

I just can't get my mind off of her.

I plop one into my mouth and swish it down with water. Then another. And with a large gulp, I face palm and slam the bottle down on the counter.

Because there are fans outside.

They were screaming still. Do they ever stop? Can't they just go home? What they want is to see me, but if I go out and wave, then they definitely won't leave, because a new line is set. Then they want to meet me.

They just can't rest.

I hope to god these pills work on headaches too, because I'm pretty sure it's like dangerous or something to take Tylenol and prescription drugs both within 5 minutes.

I put the lid back on the container and sit on the edge of the bed, pulling out my phone.

I had three missed calls from Sarah, and one voicemail. With a small sigh, I click on it.

"Hey, baby," her familiar voice fills my ears, "I just wanted to make sure that you're okay. You haven't said anything to me all day. How's New York? I'm in LA still, we ran overtime on shooting today. I can't get a cab. Anyways, call me back whenever. I miss you!"

I don't call back. Instead, I delete the message, and open up Mum's contact. I had two texts from her. I don't even read them, I just type.

I saw Elle today, Mum. I know you'll want to put me back into therapy or something, so please know that Andrew has everything under control. But seeing her was like dying again. I don't think I'll ever see her again.

About 30 seconds later it shows that she's read it and by two minutes my phone was blowing up with texts asking if I talked to her, how she is, if I'm okay, if I want to go home, if Elliot saw me, bibbity blah blah.

Then she calls me.

"Shawn? Where are you? Are you okay?" she sounded worried and it almost sounded like your voice does when you're about to lose it.

"I'm at the hotel," I say calmly, "We talked for a while and tried to catch up but. . . "

I yelled at her and she felt uncomfortable and left. Again.

"It was kind of awkward and we said goodbye."

She sighs. "Oh, Shawn. I'm sorry. I'm glad you told me."

"Yeah."

"How's Sarah?" she asks me, relaxing a bit.

"Fine. She's still in LA," I respond.

"Oh. Well, tell her I said hi. We miss you."

"I miss you guys too. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Alright. I love you, cupcake."

"I love you too," I say quietly, then hang up and throw my phone back on the bed.

Elliot is such an ass. Like, why does everyone just assume that how they think I feel is how I actually feel? Elle just decides that since it seemed like I didn't want her around, that she had to leave. And she assumed that just because I had some things to get off my chest, and can you blame me? It wasn't that I was mad, I just needed answers before everything in me gives out.

But maybe I don't need answers in order to love her.

Right now, it doesn't make much sense, but I need to see her. She gave me something I'd completely forgotten, she supplied me with the sanity and comfortable feeling I'd let go of four years ago. I thought everything was okay that way, but it wasn't, it never would be. I need her.

I can't lose her again.

***