Warning this chapter contains sensitive contents such as s£!f H*rm and Dr*gs.
Read at your own risk.
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Last night was definitely long and sleepless. I kept rolling and rolling without shutting down my eyes. My mind was constantly working, and every time I tried to think of something else, it shifted his focus back to Julian. What was he doing? Was he okay? Was he sleeping? I called, no answer.
I was uninterested in the conversation my friends were holding, mostly gossiping about the latest celebrity drama. My eyes wandered every corner of the courtyard for my boyfriend; no sign of him. I accidentally made eye contact with Thea and her murderous look. I just knew she murdered me trillion times in her mind every day. She was the least of my priorities at the moment.
I finally spotted Julian, and it wasn't what I prayed for. He was still wearing the sunglasses. His yesterday outfits were swiped for a brown sweater and black sweatpants. His walk worsened; he was lumbering to the TC building like a zombie.
A group of girls dived on him, asking for pictures, and my nails dug into my palms as I boiled of rage. I didn't care if they were fourteen years old; they were old enough to see that he wasn't doing good and to leave him alone!
Fucking stupid little bitches!
He found a way to sent them to fuck off. I waited a few minutes to flow before I decided to follow him inside.
"Guys, I will be right back." I stood up.
"So, is it time for your rendezvous?" Agea wiggled her eyebrows while sipping her latte.
"Shut up. Keep my purse; I will see you in class." I slid my phone into my back pocket.
"Mhh hmm. And don't be too nasty in there." Xavier winked at me.
I offered them my middle finger while walking to the side door. Thea and Kelly were in the courtyard, and I needed to be careful. They were the last person I needed to sabotage my relationship. The technology center building was one of the largest ones with four stories. I hoped he was on the first floor because I was too lazy to sweep all of them. What the hell was I thinking? Julian was not doing good, and if I needed to search all the floors to find him, I would force myself to do so.
I started the east side, roaming through the empty halls, vaguely saying hello back to the few students I crossed. As I began to search the west hallways, I saw him getting out of the bathroom. I hurried to push him inside and locked the door behind me.
"I called you non-stop. Why you didn't pick up?" I faced him. "You had me worried sick."
He didn't respond but just stood there, immobilized.
"Julian?"
I got on my toes to remove the glasses. Unlike yesterday, he didn't even bother to budge. The bright bathroom light made him flinched and squinted his eyes. He leaned back, and I quickly gripped his waist since there was nothing behind him. He was completely disoriented and tensed, his skin so dull and pale.
"Julian!" I snapped my fingers on his face. He finally put his bloodshot eyes on me.
"Please talk to me; what is wrong?" I pleaded.
He made the least expected movement. He cupped my face and kissed me. I automatically responded; I missed tasting his lips, his minty toothpaste. The kiss grew more fervent and aggressive when he grabbed my ass. That was enough; he wanted sex, but as much I wanted him too, but he was trying to escape the fact he wasn't doing great.
I gently stopped the make-out and put my hands on his chest to keep a distance.
"Julian, no, that's enough," I murmured.
"Just, please." He tried to kiss me again, but I refused.
"Remember what you said. We can't have sex to cope with feelings. We need to talk about it first."
He let go of me and ran his ringed fingers on his hair to his face.
"Why are you doing this to yourself? You think drugs are going to do something great for you?"
"I am not taking any drugs." He denied.
"Then explain to me why... you're like this?"
"It's nothing- it's just I don't want to sleep" He miserably exhaled and paced a few feet away from me. I noticed he never faced the mirror, not once.
"Why? That's impossible." I frowned. "Are you taking pills?"
He didn't respond again. I pulled him closer to me by his arm, feeling he was zooming out. My eyebrows were drawn up in the corner, my face fully fretful. I hated he was going through this. It twisted my heart. I forced him to look at me. His eyes were emptily staring at me. Oh God, he looked awful, still handsome but awful.
For the second time, he rushed into me. He abruptly lifted me and pinned me against the door, hungrily devouring my lips. My legs automatically wrapped around his waist. I quickly get a hold of the situation and pushed his face. I slapped him so hard; his head turned violently to his right.
"Julian! STOP! Stop now!" I yelled. "You're forcing me! Stop!" I panicked and put a distance between us with my hands on his chest, panting.
His facial expression began to change as if he was just getting a hold of his senses. His eyes widened when he finished processing my words.
"Oh God, I am so sorry, I-I don't know what I am doing, I am so sorry." His voice broke. "I didn't mean to hurt you, shit. I am sorry."
"Hey, hey, it's fine." I cupped his face, his eyes watering. That wasn't the emotion I attended to trigger. That wasn't anything I was expecting at all this morning.
"I am so sorry. I can't take it anymore. I am the worst I-I-." He finally broke down.
"No, no, baby, come here." I wrapped my arms around my neck, laying his head on my shoulder. "You're the best person ever. You're the best boyfriend, the best friend, the best son, and the best brother. You're the best thing that happened to me." I comforted him, caressing his hair.
His face buried on my neck, his tears tingling my skin, whispering calming words to his ear, his arms holding me tight against this bathroom, the worse in the campus. The exact one that gave me an infection, E. Coli. Those pigs had me shitting and twisting in my pants for a week.
Needless to think about while my boyfriend was having a breakdown in my arms. It was just a distraction from the fact I was also fighting not to tear up. I was being tough for him and would cry later on my pillow. My heart was tortuous. It broke me seeing him so vulnerable, and I was glad that I was the shoulder He had to cry on. What if we weren't together? It has been a year, he was going through this alone, and he wasn't doing better. Those psychiatrists and pills weren't helping him. God only knew what happened to him in England to fuck him up like that.
He calmed down, still in the same position. The steps of the passing students and the few that tried to open the bathroom door interrupted the silence.
I needed to know what was going on? What was in his head and why? I could feel something else was wrong. Was he hiding something more?
I took a deep breath and asked. "Is it because of the nightmares you don't want to sleep?"
He lightly nodded.
"Taking pills won't help you, baby. You cannot avoid sleeping forever. You're slowly killing yourself." I softly tried to reason with him, but no answer.
I gently pull his hair to raise his head. His face was red and wetted from being buried in a sea of tears. I wiped them away and brushed his hair strings sticking to his cheek back.
"Promise me no more pills, please."
"Okay." He gruffly mumbled. "I promise."
I exhaled with a little reassuring smile.
"Overdosing is a real thing, and I don't want to lose you, ever. Not only me, but you also have friends and family that love you and a little sister that sees you as her hero. They don't want to lose you too, baby." My thumb carcasses his cheek while he lowered his head.
"You're just going through something, and it's going to be okay. It's okay. But you're not alone. You have me. Together, remember? We're a couple, and we share everything, and definitely our pain. Just like you promised me, you will always be there for me. I promise you the same thing." I kissed his forehead and nose.
"Sleep with me tonight."
"You know I can't go to your dorm."
"Please, I am begging you." His eyes were desperately waiting for a positive answer.
"Okay, the condo. I can find a ride, and I will wait for you there at six but don't drive, you hear me?"
He affirmatively shook his head. The bell rang for the classes to start. I didn't want to let him go. I needed to keep an eye on him. He wasn't on his best terms. That was one of the moments I hated that we were hiding. I would have been able to be with him all day.
"Can you go to class?"
"Yes."
The answer was clearly a no, but I couldn't force him to stay inside his townhouse.
"Okay, don't take any pills for whatever else. God knows how much shit you already have taken. Drink a lot of water, a lot, to at least flush some out. Do you understand me?" I articulated every word for him because I could tell he was randomly zooming out for split seconds.
"Yes."
I slid off him, aware he didn't have his full strength. His left cheek was awfully red due to the slap.
"Wash your face, and let's go." He obeyed as I held back his hair. His movements were slow, and he lightly rocked back and forth when he stood upright. Still, he refused to look at his reflection and kept his eyes down. I let him leave first so I could call Agea.
"Hey." I grabbed his wrist before he opened the door. "Take care of yourself, okay? and if something is wrong, please, tell Agea."
For the last time, he nodded. I got on my toes again and pressed my lips against his—a chaste and heartfelt kiss before I let him disappear behind the door.
I took out my phone and dialed Agea's number. I doubted he understood half of what I told him to do. If Agea could keep an eye on him, it would ease my concern. I had to come up with a lie, and as much I hated lying to my friends, it was to keep Julian's secret safe.
"The bell already rang. Where are you?" She picked up.
"I am coming, but I need you to do me a favor. Juan and you. Do you guys have classes with Julian all day?"
"Yes, do you want me to kick some hoes that sit too close to him?"
"Yes, and also, he is not doing well. He has a cold, and he smoked a lot of weed, and-and he is not feeling great at all. Could you please keep an eye on him?"
"Yeah, we can do that."
"And make sure he doesn't take any pills, be on his ass, and he needs to drink a lot of water, like a lot. Hold him down and force it down his throat."
"The dude is a giant. I don't think that's possible."
"You will find a way."
"That's a nine to five job description." She groaned.
"I am serious, Agea, please! Ask Juan to give him a ride at six to his condo, too, please." I begged her.
"I was joking babe, Julian is my friend. Of course, I'll do my best to keep him safe for you so that you can ride him 24/7."
"Thank you so much. You don't know how much I appreciate that."
"Don't worry, babe! And hurry up! The lesson is about to start."
_______
I looked at my phone's screen for the millionth time. It's already past six, and where was Juan with Julian? I didn't have his number. I called Agea multiple times, and all she was babbling about was they already left, and the fashion world was miserably dying. I sighed and stomped on the mirrored floor; thankfully, it didn't crack. Who decided to decorated this vestibule with a full 360-degree mirror? I was tired of seeing my reflection at every corner. I should have asked Julian for the key.
A hydraulic sound became louder and closer; In a few seconds, the elevator dinged and slid open his door to Julian leaning on the metal wall. He stepped out and clumped to my arms.
"How are you feeling?" I brushed his messy hair, which replaced the sunglasses, on the side. His bloodshot eyes were slowly blanking; he looked worn and tattered with emotions.
"Mhm."
"Yeah, you're pretty fucked up." I patted around his pockets for the keys until I heard rattling them in his left. I unlocked the door and let him inside first. I could finally take off this huge pink faux fur jacket. Disguising was fun most of the time, yet a hassle.
We followed to the living room. Julian dropped his body on the couch. I carefully sat next to him, one leg folded underneath my rear.
"Did you drink the water I asked you to?" I fondled his hair. He nodded, staring blandly at the ceiling.
"You should try to sleep now."
"I can't." He negatively shook his head.
"Julian, I understand you don't want to dream about those kinds of stuff, but you can't be awake forever. I am with you. Nothing is going to happen." I placed my other hand on his thigh.
"You don't understand." He turned to look at me.
"Why can't I understand?"
"They are weird." He gulped. "I- it's always something weird and awful, and the stairs, blood, and I keep reliving the same scenarios, then I always die. Always."
If my heart wasn't twisted enough, it was tearing apart. What did it felt like dying? I didn't know, but I knew it wasn't delightful. Losing someone was enough pain but dreaming about dying every night was too much sorrow.
"I didn't tell the truth. I lied." He scoffed.
"You lied about what?" I drew up my eyebrows in the inner corners.
"I made everyone believe I was suffering PTSD from killing... Jake. I wasn't." He turned his head back to the ceiling.
I couldn't tell if it was him confessing or the lack of sleep and digested pills speaking—either way, I wanted to know more.
"I was fine. I liked it. I liked feeling his soul leaving his body. I felt so powerful. It worried me. I was scared of that feeling. I might hurt someone. They sent me to an asylum with many knock-off fugitives until they finished planning Jake's fake accident. It was hell." He chuckled.
My worry started kicking. That wasn't a story to be laughing about. He was either losing his mind or coping with humor. I was bewildered but decided to listen to him instead.
"They hate people like me over there." He continued. "They blamed my parents for their miserable life choices. I had to fight to survive for three weeks. God knows if I wasn't tall, how many times I would have gotten beat up."
"But that was the least of my concern." He shrugged. "The desire to take another life out of this sad world weighed me down so much. I followed this janitor lady to a corner with a knife. She was old and probably will die soon anyway, so why not? But I stopped; part of me didn't want to go that road. I don't know. I thought I had a chance of being back to normal again."
A tear rolled down his cheek, then another one.
"You don't have to tell me if you can't," I assured him and squeezed his thigh.
"One night, I was outside smoking a cigarette, when someone appeared out of nowhere and stabbed me in the guts five times and left me there to bleed to my death."
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This was too much for me to handle.
"The last thing I saw before I went out was those fucking stairs. Those ugly and dirty staircases are still hunting me to this day. I woke up in a hospital, and the first thing that jumped in my head was, no matter how horrific it sounded, I liked that too. I liked my own light going out. Do you know how crazy that is?" He bitterly laughed.
I was speechless. His story alone was terrifying, but the laughter made it more sinister. His tone was slow and harsh. His words were slurping and dragged by sleepiness.
"I came up with this genius and stupid idea. If I can't hurt people, why not me? Masochism. That was my solution. In that same hospital, I cut my arm open for the first time. Such a deep cut, I fell on the bathroom ground in an instant. Parents panicking, I was suicidal blah blah, I let them run with it, but the truth is, I don't want to die. I just want to feel my skin tear open, watch the blood flow out. It's like the first snort of cocaine, you know?"
No, I didn't know, that was horrible, and I didn't want to imagine that, not even the slightest.
"I figured out I might die one day while doing that, but I was fine with that. Death is not that scary. It's a part of life." He coughed. "My head hurts."
"I...um..." I tried to find words, but I forgot all my vocabulary. What the hell was I supposed to say? Or even react?
"Psychiatric hospitals don't care about you. Money or not, they don't...Especially if you have money and you're low-key hiding. They pretend they want to t-treat you and shit, but they just want to keep you longer to make more Dinero." He croaked. "I spent a year over there, and look at my arm."
He rolled up his sleeve, showing me his fully tattooed left forearm. Up closed, it was easy to notice the bumpy scars under the ink.
"They let me cut whenever I wanted, then they pretended to do something. I had to stop myself. I- I don't know what went through my mind, but I wanted to stop...I needed to get out of this shithole. I got some tattoos to cover my sins, decided to start working out and study twice more to get my head of this bullshit... and act like I was fine, and it sold out so good too. No one knew about my little self-harm addiction, and no one asked."
"What happened to you inside?" I meticulously asked him.
"I don't know." He shrugged again. "It's a hell place. They didn't care. They drugged me most of the time when they think I harmed myself too much...I would wake up, not knowing days... and times and eat beans..., work out, cut then drug sleep. Oh! And they had school."
"And you didn't say anything?"
He didn't respond, stoically gazing at the fireplace.
"Julian! Answer me! Why didn't you say anything about those people?" I gently grasped his hair and rotated his head towards me.
"I am tired." He lazily whispered.
I exhaled and rand my hands through my hair. Understanding this conversation was over. I expected knowing more about this horrible story would fathom him breaking down. However, it raised more jumbling questions in my mind.
A mile of a headache began to submerge my temple with a wave of longing to explode. I needed air. That was too much for me to absorb.
I stepped out to the porch without hesitation. The cold pinkish sunset was settling down over the city. The view was magnificent from this condo. Gosh, I craved a bottle of tequila. And I thought I had it the worse. How many people are dreadfully suffering in themselves at this moment? But we were so busy bitching about the minor inconvenience that annoyed us, and we forgot to turn to our neighbors and asked them how they were doing.
I inhaled deeply, held it in until I felt the air in my lungs pushing out. Fuck, I left him alone inside. I precipitated back to the living room, hastily chasing the white curtains out of my way. He was half passed out on the couch, battling to keep his eyes open. I should force him to go to sleep.
"Julian." I stepped in front of him, bent over, and grasped his hand. "Come on, stop fighting it. Let's go to sleep."
I gently pulled him forward. He grunted and kept on resisting. After minutes of convincing, he finally ceased. I tenderly dragged him to the bed.
The bedroom temperature was set to a higher degree. Before he laid down, I helped him take off his sweater to be more comfortable. My finger grazed in the heeled knife scars on his stomach.
Whoever did this deserved to die painfully. No mercy.
It was only seven in the afternoon, but I didn't mind cuddling him to sleep. I hadn't gone to bed that early since I was six. He tautened his arms around my waist, his head positioned on my stomach. I murmured mellow words while playing with his hair and caressing his back until he fell asleep.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the case for me. The night stayed wide awake while Julian's soft and muffled snore interrupted. His calm breathing motion and the peacefulness of his sleep eased my perturbation. Only God knew the last time he slept so serenely.
Masochism
The only word was circulating in my brain. I wanted to Google it, search for a treatment or something. My phone was in the living room, and I wouldn't dare to move. However, He never asked me to hurt him sexually; I would have freaked out and run away. He might say he liked doing self-harm because it pleased him, but I had a different opinion. I thought he liked it because he was punishing himself. He expressed to me already how much he blamed himself for what happened to his sister, which was the most reasonable motive.
We needed to have a serious conversation. We needed to find help. I couldn't bear to see him suffer. It was time for him to start loving himself. That shouldn't be a difficult task.
Well...It was Julian. It would be difficult.
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