A Peculiar Solace {Hardzello Love Story}

One

Joe had always liked the color white. It was empty, full of possibilities. The room he was in now was white. White walls, white floors, even a white ceiling. The outfit they had given him was while too. Easy to stain, though he very much doubts he would have the chance. Joe wouldn't be seeing the outside world for quite a while.

It was insisted upon by his doctors that he stay at this place for at least a month. It wasn't long, but it seemed like forever. His insurance would pay for it all, allowing him to stay a bit longer than necessary. Everybody thought it was for the best. His friends. His family. The people around him who didn't say or do anything when the signs first began showing.

Joe was a good actor, that much was true. He couldn't blame the people. He pretended to be happy. Acted like his life wasn't falling apart. Acted like he wasn't completely hopeless and miserable. Like the world wasn't a terribly cruel place to live in.

At first, he was angry. It was bad enough that he didn't complete his mission to leave the world behind but to be forced into some looney bin because it was just wrong. If they didn't want him to kill himself, you'd think they'd put him in some place he'd actually wanna go. Like Universal Studios or wherever they scattered Gene Kelly's ashes.

He was more annoyed than anything, to be honest. He had plans. Like bleeding in his bathtub, letting his blood go down the drain and letting the poor coroner deal with his body. He had already taken care of his possessions. Important things were in boxes. Anything that wasn't worth keeping had always been donated. He made a short list of who he wanted to have what.

It would have been an easy cleanup.

But noooo everything just had to go to shit. Instead of slitting his wrist long ways, like you were supposed to do it, Joe decided to be a dramatic little bitch and do it across. He had never seen so much blood before and without even realizing it, the man got light headed. That caught him to fall into the bathtub, hitting his head, knocking him out, and the loud bag alerting his neighbors of what was going on.

Not exactly the more graceful reveal, to be completely honest. He was left with a semi-healing scar on his left wrist and a severe bump on the head. Everybody took it pretty hard when they found out and his family decided to do something and get him help.

Leaving Joe on his own devices was no longer an option and since his family had lives they had to live, it wasn't like they could just abandon everything and take him in. He needed constant surveillance. They had to make sure he was all right, that he wasn't going to try again.

Joe wouldn't have tried again. At least not with that method. He would have done something else the second time around. Like sitting in the garage while the car was on or swallowing a whole bottle of pills.

He knew this was why he was admitted in the first place. The sad thing was, he wasn't even that depressing of a guy. He would still smile. Still, laugh. He'd tell jokes and be social. He was just unhappy.

And he knew it was bad, trust him on that. Ooh, a thirty-year-old white guy with a decent paying job was unhappy with his life. How fucking groundbreaking. He felt bad for feeling bad and that only made him feel worse. At least if he was gone then nobody would have to feel anything anymore. The world would be over and he'd be free.

But fate had a funny way of playing out.

Joe signed away his rights as a free human. For one month — 30 days — he would be living at the ward. In a tiny room where there were no sharp objects. Where the bed sheet was practically glued to the bed and the blanket was made of wool. There was nothing in his room he could use as a weapon and he was forced to take medicine that was supposed to make him feel better.