There is only so much pain and suffering someone can endure before the world starts to fall apart and crumble to ashes right in front of them. I'm sinking further and further into the ground whilst everything around me remains the same. Deeper and deeper, I descend into cold water and hold no hope in keeping my head above it. My fucked up, damaged, tormented head.
Yet nothing changes. I see him laying there silently, soaked in his own blood and terror as I feel my eyes beginning to close. And I'm underwater, hoping and wishing I'll drown in my own guilt and misery. I'm numb, tired and desperately wanting to die.
Now I'm ten feet underwater, opening my eyes as I look up and see life above me- but I'm still sinking and somehow not drowning. I can breathe but how am I supposed to live when I'm submerging further from life and reality?
This is depression. Imagine if the floor turned to water and only you were drowning while everyone else could swim. You're sinking deeper into the ocean as you see those same people coping and handling the water so well. You know how to swim but you're numb from head to toe and all you can do is watch yourself drift further from everyone else. The worst part is that you can still breathe.
I'm snapped vigorously from my thoughts as I hear a frail attempt to gasp for air, and my eyes are already on Clyde as I realise he's still here with me. My face is drained from colour as not a single tear falls from my wide, traumatised eyes. Carefully, I crawl gently towards him as he lays almost lifelessly in the blood stained velvet arm chair they dumped him on.
He looks at me plainly, and it sends a sickness through my stomach. I don't know if he's aware as to what's going on and I mustn't frighten or worry him. There's no hope him making it, he's been cut right open and he's bleeding out. He barely has any time left.
Holding back every emotion within me, I approach him carefully and delicately take his trembling hand. I sniffle, take a deep breath and lightly smile.
"Hey." I whisper, my voice breaking as I feel vomit rising, but miraculously I keep it down.
"I'm s-scared." He manages to utter as his cold, white lips barely move.
Tears form in my empty emerald eyes but I refrain from blinking no matter how much it stings to keep them open. Tenderly, I squeeze his hand just a little as a kind reminder that I'm always here, and all I ask is that he knows it.
"Don't be scared," I usher with a reassuring smile, softly rubbing the pad of the thumb against his hand which is getting decreasingly colder. "Nothing will happen while I'm here with you."
"S-Save me." He chokes out as his weakening voice becomes barely audible for me to hear let alone understand. I swallow just about everything, including my own vomit, and never let my smile break.
"I can't. I wish I could." I gasp for air as my voice trembles in the fear of losing him.
"A-Am...." He stops as his breathing becomes heavier and heaver. "Am I dying?"
"Yeah, you are," I say in a broken whisper, and I sorrowfully press my furrowed forehead against his damp, white shirt. Again, I sniffle, but then I deeply exhale in relief. "But it's okay. Everything's okay. Just close your eyes and let go, that's all you have to do."
"Promise?" He asks quietly.
Cautiously, I raise my head slowly as my red, hollow eyes meet his. I desperately nod. "I'll talk you through it the entire time."
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Call Boy. (Harry Styles Fan Fiction) on holdFanfiction
Harley Thomas; an anxiously wrecked Christian who thrives on judging those who sin. Harry Styles; an emotionally wrecked Atheist who thrives on sinning.