Becoming Us || l.h

Chapter 18

* Trigger warning: Suicide*

Twitter got worse after their Ellen episode. Fans were attacking me for being the reason Luke was getting worse, a few stuck up for me, which I was grateful for. I got more hate as the days went on, more and more people telling me to kill myself. I started believing that was the best option for me.

I scroll more, seeing triggering pictures of people cutting, a noose, even a few guns. One really catches my eye, Luke mentioned in it a few times.

@Lukesunicorn: Dylan Ryan is the reason we are losing our Lukey, she destroyed him, haven't you noticed he barely smiles and can't even perform anymore? She ruined him and deserves nothing good in life. Karma will fuck her. She deserves to die.

I decided to post a tweet so people maybe get the idea that I'm also struggling and maybe stop attacking me.

@Dylanryan: I loved Luke, I still fucking do but there's always a reason for every decision made so please stop telling me to kill myself, you don't know the entire fucking story.

I couldn't do this. I was miserable. I was making the people around me miserable. I was a burden for everyone and if I was just gone, they could go on with their lives and not have to keep worrying about me and stressing. Austin wouldn't have to keep checking on me.

I stare at the long scar on my arm, reminding me of my last failed attempt at my life. I wipe away the tears running down my face, trying to calm down and think straight. I suck in a breath, trying to breathe normally, staring at my arm. I look over at the prescriptions on the bedside table taunting me. I had about a week's worth left.

The notepad next to it is full of writing, words scribbled out, tears staining the pages, pain, and love. I had written notes to Luke, Ashton, Calum, Michael, Blake, Austin, and Zach. I told them why I loved them, thank you for being there and helping me, and then apologizing. I couldn't do this anymore.

My heart is racing, making me dizzy. My stomach was in my throat, my hands shaking. I wipe my eyes again, trying to breathe. A sob escapes, my entire body heaving with it. I grab my prescription, struggling to get the cap off.

Another sob escapes and with it, the bottle opens, spilling the contents over the floor. I gather them up, staring at them in my hand through blurry eyes. I wipe my eyes again, taking a deep, shuddery breath. I take a drink of water, swallowing hard. I pour a few of the pills in my mouth, taking another drink. I take the rest, taking one final drink.

I sit there crying, staring at the floor with my arms wrapped around my legs. Minutes that feel like hours go by, nothing changes. My stomach begins to hurt and I feel like I could throw up but I can't. My entire body felt like it was going numb, my brain running wild. My hands start shaking more and I start rethinking this, trying to get my body to move to the bathroom. It wouldn't move though. I get tunnel vision, my eyesight going as I collapse on the ground.

»»»»»

I remember the ambulance.

I remember being forced to throw up.

I remember the world going dark.

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My mouth was incredibly dry, but I couldn't open my eyes. They felt like they were tied to weights, unable to lift them. I could hear rustling and a steady beeping. My head hurt like someone hit it with a baseball bat.

I finally manage to get my eyes open, the room I was in was dark, a dim light behind me. I look around, trying not to move my head. I see a heart monitor, an IV drip, and a window overlooking the city off to one side, my brothers off to the other side.