The Struggling Sociopath

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

And we continue as if it never happened

Half a year. Half a year since it happened. Since he fell. Committed suicide. Jumped. Since John lost his best friend. His boyfriend. His only love.

Half a year and he was still haunted by the nightmares of that day. The phone call, His final words.

“I love you, John. Goodbye.” John had watched as He had taken a step off the school building and fallen to his death. After claiming that he was indeed a fake. That he was a cheat, thief and did drugs. But John wouldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it. He would not tell everyone that Sh- HE was a fake. Because he wasn’t. He couldn’t have been. He was too smart and too clever. He just had enemies. That wanted to take him out.

No matter how hard he tried John could not forget him. Could not stop the horrors that plagued his dreams and each of his steps in life. He was seeing someone about it. An attempt for them to stop him feeling the grief. So he could move on and step out of his depression. It wasn’t depression. Not really. He just couldn’t feel anymore. When He had jumped it had destroyed John’s heart. Now there was a black hole where it had been. Devoid of any emotion.

No matter how many times John told them, though, they wouldn’t believe him. He couldn’t really blame them. After all he had applied to the University a straight A student. Hardworking, praised by all his teachers and very good at making friends. Yet here he was failing at his course, alone and hardly bothering to do the work. What was the point? He had lost the one thing he lived for. He really only still had two friends. Molly and Lestrade. He had kept in contact with both though they had gone their different ways. Sometimes they met up. When John felt up to it. Molly was the nicest, the most sympathetic. She understood what was going on. She had felt the blow when He jumped as well. Just not as hard as John had. Lestrade was ok. He was doing a course to become a Detective Inspector. He just tried to keep John’s mind of Him when they met up. Took him drinking and such.

But nothing could fill the emptiness in his heart. Not creating a blog, concentrating on his work, helping people, nothing. Nothing that was suggested really helped. He did the bare minimum required of him. Ate enough to survive, slept less than he should, did the work when he had to. He knew he should do more. Try and re-enter the world. He was already being threatened with having to leave the university if he didn’t get his act together. But did that really matter?

Yes. Some small part of him said that it did. He would have wanted it. Wanted John to become a doctor as he had always dreamed. To go on and help people. Do something great in the world. Continue being the good person that He had thought John was.

“This cannot continue, John,” John stared at his therapist in almost boredom. He had been seeing her for just under half a year, after his mum had gotten worried and applied for one on his behalf. He disliked these sessions. They always tried to get him to talk. About Him. But he didn’t want to. They were his memories! No one else had a right to hear them.

“I know,” John murmured, running a hand through his short blond hair. There were black bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep. Due to nightmares.