Chapter Seventeen [Part Two] - Every Hour On The Hour They Drew Blood

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 Someone obviously heard me being sick and came running. I heard Matt adjust his shirt sleeve and I looked up to see Jake standing in the doorway.

 “Dude, are you ok?”

 No, Jake. No. I’m not ok. I’m not ok, because I’m being sick due to the fact that the image of what I just saw is burnt into my mind, replaying over and over before my very eyes. I’m not ok, because a brother is slowly killing himself and doesn’t know how to stop. I’m not ok, because everything is messed up and all because of one guy.

 Liam.

 “I’m… fine…” I choked out.

 Jake looked at me strangely but retreated into the house anyway. I straightened up slowly and looked at Matt. He was close to tears, I could tell- so was I. The acrid taste of sick stung my throat and my eyes and I wanted everything to go away. I wanted everything to go away, to just shut off, even for a millisecond. I wanted nothing.

 I wanted oblivion. And so did Matt.

 I pulled Matt further away from the house and we stood with our backs to the doors and windows. I pulled him into a tight hug and he clung to me, not even letting go when I thought it was time.

 “I had to tell you…” he gasped. “…I couldn’t tell George…”

 “I know. It’s ok, dude. You’re not in this alone.” I told him.

 He released me slowly and I gently pulled his sleeve back up.

 Cuts.

 A thousand cuts. Some deep, some shallow, some long, some small. A lot of tiny holes by his elbow.

 “What have you been taking?” I asked.

 “Anything I could afford. I don’t- didn’t- care.” he replied matter-of-factly. I looked at the tiny holes and imagined him injecting crap into his arm with a needle. I almost threw up again.

 “I’m not going to make you promise to stop. That’ll just make things worse, you understand?” I said. He nodded. “What I’m going to ask you to do is just try. Try to go for a day without cutting or smoking or drinking or doing drugs, and build it up and then you won’t be addicted to it anymore. I know how addictive it can all be…”

 It had to be said, looking at all of his cuts made me feel empty. Almost forlorn. It was like going up to someone who had just quit smoking and blowing smoke into their face.

 “You’re going to make me tell George, though, aren’t you?” he asked with a sigh. I sighed too.

 “You have to, bro.”

 We walked together back into the house and Matt went into the living room to talk to the guys whilst I went upstairs and brushed my teeth. I had to get the taste of sick out of my mouth before it made me throw up all over again… I spat the white bubbles into the skink and shut off the tap, my eyes flickering to the mirror momentarily. I went to walk away but my eyes returned to the mirror, shocked.

 I looked so thin. Dark circles surrounded my eyes from all the late nights we had spent trying to write and re-write the music. I lifted up my shirt slowly and stared at the way my ribs stuck out from under my skin, more predominant than ever before. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten. All I remembered was drinking and smoking. And that was all there was to it. Music, drinking and smoking. Was it any wonder none of us were happy?

 I couldn’t look at myself anymore. I left the room just as Scamp came down the hallway. He ran up to me and licked my hand. I knelt down and we played for a moment. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d taken him for a walk, paid him any attention. His stomach growled and he barked.

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