tw - s*icidal thoughts, mentions
// cate //
Some days, I would wake up perfectly fine. Perfectly happy. Like nothing was wrong. But other days- other days were rough.
It was like I had to live it all over again. Every single second of that experience. And I couldn't take it anymore.
It always felt like there wasn't anyone I could talk to when I woke up like this. It used to just be... just be her, but now that wasn't an option anymore.
Sometimes I would lay there in my bed and pretend to be sick, or that I had a stomachache. But sometimes I could fake through it all and act as if everything was normal. The days that this happened grew rarer and rarer with passing time, but whenever they happened, I felt like I was right back at square one and there wasn't anything I could do about it.
No one would notice if I wasn't feeling well; they'd just bring me a glass of water and maybe some medicine with a quick "if it gets worse, call me and I can take you to the doctor".
The sickness they thought they were talking of never got worse. It never was there.
But the pain eating up inside of me that made me feel as if living any longer was unbearable grew worse every time it happened, and I had to lie there and pretend everything was all okay.
So when Luke shook me gently on the shoulder to signal he was getting up one Sunday morning, and I didn't react- he could tell something was wrong. He tried again, but I could only stare mindlessly at the wallpaper on the opposite side of the room.
"Catie," he said quietly, leaning over me. "You awake?"
I didn't move.
"Cate," Luke mumbled, craning his neck to look at my face as I was sleeping on my side. Once he saw that my eyes were open, his brow furrowed. "You alright?"
I just turned farther into the mattress, my knees tucking against my chest.
"You can talk to me, you know." His voice held a hint of amusement in it, but it was covered up with genuine worry.
I had had therapy for a while. A really long while after it happened. I thought I was going to be all better, but after the sessions stopped, I fell back into these pits of depression and self blame.
And it wasn't as if I could tell my mom. She tries, but she's so busy that all she would do is send me back to therapy, where I was so uncomfortable all of the time.
"Catelynn, I can tell that something's wrong. Please, just talk to me."
I shook my head into the pillow, my face hidden.
At least it was one sign of life from me. Luke sighed, rubbing a hand over my shoulder comfortingly. "Do you want breakfast?"
I contemplated, before nodding.
"Anything in particular?"
"C-can you ask Aimee for yogurt?" I mumbled.
"Mhm," he patted my arm gently, before getting up. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes, don't go anywhere."
I watched his figure start to leave the room, and I couldn't bring it in me to even move.
Aimee knew that the therapist had given me antidepressants. She had to pick me up one of the last few sessions instead of my mother, and we hadn't told her. I never talked to anyone about it. And when I first used them, since I still couldn't swallow pills, she had mixed it in a yogurt.
I had let her keep them from me, only ever using them on days like this. I would tell her when I was feeling this terribly, as much as I struggled to, and it had reached a point where asking for yogurt made her know instantly what I meant.
Luke returned a few moments later, holding a ceramic bowl of my yogurt and a bowl of cereal for himself. There were two glasses of orange juice, which I appreciated.
"Here you go, babe," Luke mumbled, his voice rasping in his throat as he carefully set the tray on my nightstand, grabbing his cereal and taking a seat beside me.
"Thanks," I whispered, my voice cracking slightly from lack of use. It took everything in me to pull myself to a sitting position against my headboard, and I nearly burst into tears at how awful I felt. It hurt to even do such simple tasks, and the fact that I could barely do them made me want to cry.
Luke noticed, and he reached a hand out towards me, resting it on my leg through the blanket.
Sometimes it was better to be silent, and he knew that.
Looking down at the bowl in my lap, I didn't even want to eat. I knew I should. But I couldn't bring myself to even grasp the handle of the spoon.
"Is it the wrong kind of yogurt? I can get another-"
"No, it- it isn't that." My voice cracked with the simple words, and I wished that I hadn't even woke up that morning.
She didn't deserve this.
She didn't deserve what had happened.
It couldn't be changed now.
I needed to get over it.
But I couldn't do it.
I wasn't strong enough to.
"Catelynn," Luke rasped. "Tell me what's wrong."
What's wrong?
What's the matter?
Say what's wrong.
What is wrong.
Why isn't it right.
My fists flew to my eyes to hold back the oncoming tears, and I almost knocked the yogurt bowl off of my lap.
Luke grabbed it instinctively as he placed our breakfasts onto the tray. He settled his hand on my knee, his face inches from mine.
I could feel hot tears start to well up in my eyes and trickle down my cheeks, and I just wished it would stop. I wished everything would stop.
I wanted what was wrong to be right, but that was impossible, and not any of the stupid money in the world could fix that.
Luke didn't speak, instead wrapping his arms around me as I rested my face on his shoulder.
He didn't "shh" me, or tell me it was okay. Because he didn't know why I was crying into his chest at 10:37 in the morning, and he couldn't tell me everything would be fine. He had no idea.
And for that- I was so grateful.
Luke didn't press me about what was the matter for the rest of the day. All he asked was if I was okay.
I was not.
So I laid in his lap, his fingers running comfortingly through my hair in the silence.
We hadn't encountered anyone all day except Aimee, who had come to take the breakfast tray back downstairs. She hadn't said anything about the half-full bowl, but I could tell she wasn't too happy that I hadn't taken all of the medicine hidden in it. At least I had eaten some of it.
I didn't feel much better, but Luke's presence was comfort enough for me.
I could tell he was a little unsure of himself. I would be too, in his place.
I had barely spoke all day long, except for a couple times earlier this morning and a short conversation with Luke that ended in minutes.
"Luke," I mumbled, rolling over slightly to look up at him from his lap.
"Yes, princess?" he asked softly, his hand moving to rub my back.
"Does it get better?"
He didn't respond right away, so I figured he wasn't going to talk. Maybe it was better to be quiet than to bullshit. Because honestly, I wasn't quite sure what I meant by "it". I doubted he would.
"I- I used to think it wouldn't. I have the shittiest luck, but, I think I've finally had something that made it worth continuing."
His voice wasn't quite stable, but it wasn't quite shaky either. Luke had been in tough situations, obviously, by the wound scarring on his leg, and the rest of the marks covering his body. He had seen tougher things than I had.
"You just can't give up."
"I want to. I really do," I mumbled, nearly inaudible.
His blue eyes stared into my own earnestly, and Luke's lips parted as he was about to speak.
"I can't speak for you, I can't speak for anyone else but myself. I wanted to give up- I really wanted to end it."
I swallowed, my arm slipping around his waist as I pulled myself closer to him.
"Why didn't you?" I murmured.
"I don't know. I have no fucking clue. But the little things, the little stupid slivers of hope are still somewhere," Luke said softly. "And yeah, life is rough. It sucks. But there are good parts that make it worth living."
My eyes glanced towards my arm for a second, before locking with his once more.
"And I wanted to get better to see those parts."
And then my gaze was fully torn from his to my arm- specifically my right wrist. Over fading white scars from years prior, in faint pink ink were words.
No one knew what they were, except me and Calum's older shadier friend who ran a sketchy tattoo shop in his garage. I doubt he remembered the time he tattooed a fifteen year old for their birthday for fifty dollars, but I did.
And, looking back at the blonde comforting me, I realized that somehow, he was saving me from myself. Saving me a second time.
I barely managed to save myself the first time.
And Luke was going to help me the next.
- -
heyyy
i edited this one like two weeks ago so i literally don't remember what happens and i don't feel like rereading it yno
but backstory ooo
so excited for the next three weeks of nonstop testing and then graduation and then bam what the fcuk i'm a full adult who isn't in high school and no more of that pain
extremely nervous yno but i hope that y o u are well
love you all so freaking much ty all loads for even clicking on this book :)
hope you all having a g day i am not but we will continue
lyyy <3
carol xxx