fourteen

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Warning: Mention of depression, violence, self-harm, suicide and death.
Just a friendly reminder that there may be some triggering materials in this chapter. 😕

The atmosphere was in its constant solemnness and the mood surrounding it lacked its mirth. It was as quiet as a repressed mime and the burden hung in the air like dead weight. With each day that passed, Troye felt it gets thicker and heavier, and he had to draw in long breaths just so he could fill his lungs to their capacity, or he feared they would collapse under the mounting heaviness.

Troye let out a sigh as he put away the untouched bowl of chicken broth in the sink. He placed the back of his hand over his closed eyes and the small reprieve threatened to pull him over to the land of sleep. He was exhausted, his body utterly spent and his mind tired from the constant fight to keep the optimism alive.

It has been too long. Too long till the he could smile without any worry again, too long till he could breathe freely again. He was trying hard to keep the fire alight. It was no torch, more like a flimsy fire from a tiny little match stick. But he will make do, he has to make do with what he got, he has to find a way out of this darkness. Oh, it was dark, so dark that sometimes he'd forgotten what light looks like.

And sometimes he wished that he hadn't said 'yes' when Oliver proposed to him six months ago.

Because six months ago, he was happy. Six months ago, he had a great life. He had wonderful friends, he was healthy, his career path was bright and he had a wonderful doting boyfriend who loves him for who he is. Life was treating him good and he was contently happy.

But then Oliver proposed.

He had proposed on the morning of his birthday and he cheekily tried to guilt Troye into saying 'yes' by making a grand gesture of how it would make it the best birthday present he would ever receive. Frankly, silly Oliver needn't do that, for Troye had every intention to say 'yes' even if Oliver had gifted him a dried twig instead of the gorgeous silver band in that black velvet box. Of course he had said 'yes', a million times over 'yes' and Oliver kisses him until he couldn't breathe. Then, he told Troye to wait for him because he had something special planned to commemorate the significance of that night.

And so, Troye waited. Giddily, he waited. Floating on air as Troye felt light as a feather, he waited. Feeling so lucky and blessed to have found love and trust again, he waited. The sun was replaced by the moon and he waited.

But unaware was Troye of the man who he loves being pushed into a dark alley just a few blocks away. Unaware was Troye of the man who is his fiancé being threatened with a hand knife to his throat. Unaware was Troye of the man who single-handedly thawed his cold heart and taught him to love again, was bleeding on the ground of the dirty back alley, the wounds on his wrists fresh and raw.

He waited, smiling from ear to ear, until the phone call that changed everything. It had robbed Troye of his utmost happiness in a split second moment. As the smile fell from his face, so did the tears. He let himself cry for a whole minute before he stopped and rushed to the hospital. And it all went downhill from there.

The police was saying to him, 'Don't worry, we'll do our best to catch the person responsible.' And the doctor was saying to him, 'Don't worry, we'll make sure he's comfortable.'. But no one actually said anything that could help him understand this nightmare. Why did this happen? How did it happen? Who pointed a knife at Oliver? Why did he have to hurt Oliver? How did the supposedly happiest day of his life took such a drastic turn for the worse?- All the questions he finds himself asking.

Then, he heard it. The desperate sound of sobbing from the man he loves, deranged and hysterical. "Oh God, no! Doctor, please! I beg you. You have to help me! My hands, I can't feel my hands!"

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