Forgetting Logic | Book One

8

•Major TW Chapter, proceed with care•

Third Person

Another two weeks went by with a kind of silence that hid tragedy within its handle. The two men both had their own issues to take a grasp at. Even if they wanted to care for each other deeply the past would always arrange for something different.

Thomas refused to take his medicine. The same medicine that kept his PTSD under control.

Only a few people knew about his condition.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is a disorder characterized by failure to recover after experiencing or witnessing a terrifying event.

It was three years ago.

Sophomore year.

A year before the Incident with Alex.

It happened so fast. So fast.

He thought he could stop the train from crashing. That maybe if he didn't drag his mother into the metal transportation way, maybe just maybe....

She died because of him. His selfish ways led to her death. He would always remember the bodies that laid among each other.

Like sardines hundreds of people lifeless. The cars were full of blood stained seats and decapitated bodies.

He was never the same after that. Constant nightmares and flashbacks haunted him so frequently he couldn't tell the difference which was reality.

The doctor prescribed him medicine.

Serotonin. That's the only thing that kept Thomas sane and sociable to the public eye.

Alex didn't know about Thomas's condition. He met the tall figure a few after his mother passed. Alex helped Thomas's recovery without even knowing it. They bonded and shared struggles becoming best friends in the process.

Then it happened.

Guilt always filled his mind and now that Alex was back in his life, Thomas couldn't focus.

He couldn't eat, sleep, nor find the strength to go on.

Slowly began not to speak another word. He slowly drifted by into depression. The nightmares and memories flooded his mind.

Thomas.

I stayed up all night.

Rocking myself into sanity.

This had now became a nightly occurrence. I would wake up at 2 am in a panic attack. I pulled out my phone and tapped the name I wanted to contact.

'U up?' Sent 3:15

'Yeah. What's going on.'
Received. 3:20

'It happened again. But this time I ended up on the floor staring at a razor across the room.' Sent 3:21

'What did it tell you?'
Received 3:22