Chapter Fifteen:
Guilt
I wasn't allowed to leave my room for the entire day after last night. Not that I'd want to. I was high out of my mind with the medications that they gave me.
I heard a knock on the door and the nurse assigned to watch me went and opened the door. I blinked my eyes, trying to make myself more alert. I sat up from the uncomfortable bed, finding that some of the medications had worn off, thankfully.
"Gavin has a visitor," A woman told the nurse. The nurse nodded and beckoned to me, urging me to stand up.
I slowly did and began to follow the nurse reluctantly. I felt kind of light and dizzy as I walked down the halls and I knew I stumbled a bit more then I should.
Eventually, the nurse opened a door where lots of tables and chairs were set out. My eyes rested on curly red hair and I instantly felt my heart jump.
Or maybe it sunk.
I didn't have enough time to think about it before I was being sat down in front of Michael.
"Hey, Gavin. How you feeling?" He asked me. I shrugged and scrunched up a little, feeling my anxiety begin to pick up as I felt a couple people's eyes rest on me.
"Look, Gav. I know you're probably pissed at me for letting those people take you away but you have to understand that I had no say in what happened. Personally, I would've wanted to have you stay home, even if it meant you're depression would end up getting worse, because that's what you wanted, and I'd do anything that you wanted, Gav," Michael told me.
"Tell me the truth or I'm leaving," I growled at him, feeling some of my pent up anger escape. I watched Michael sigh and roll his eyes, leaning forward a bit more.
"Gavin, this is what's best for you, even if you can't see that. You need help. There's only so much I can do before it becomes too much for me to handle. I love you with all my heart, Gavin. I couldn't just stand by and watch you slowly break apart," Michael told me.
"So, you did have a hand in this," I growled at him.
"Because it's what's best for you!" Michael argued.
"No, Michael! What's best for me is if you get out of my life and let me deal with this on my own! I dealt with this on my own for years so I sure as hell can continue dealing with it!" I shouted at him, causing some people to look at me. However, my anxiety of being watched was long gone.
Michael instantly shut up. I watched hurt drip into his eyes and I instantly felt a wave of guilt at what I said to him. I watched him stand up and throw a backpack over his shoulder.
"I'm sorry you feel this way, Gavin. If you think it's best I stay away, then I will," He told me. He began to walk away until he stopped and took the backpack off his shoulder, grabbing something from inside. Once he grabbed what he was looking for, he returned to me and handed me my journal.
"I thought you'd need this. You know, something to filter your thoughts out onto. I was hoping you would open up a little to me about it but I guess that won't be happening, now will it?" He said before kissing my cheek gently and walking away again.
I sat there, just staring straight ahead at the opposite wall. The journal rested in my hands, my thumbs not curling around to clutch it for whatever reason. I felt my cheek tingle where Michael kissed me.
Would Michael really stay away? The very thought frightened me. I hadn't meant what I said. Michael was honestly the only thing keeping me sane.
Eventually, a nurse told me it was time for me to go back to my room. I reluctantly stood up and followed her, feeling like each step brought me closer to my new prison.
...
September 19th, 2015
I'm just gonna start by saying this.
I feel like I'm in a prison.
This stupid hospital is going to make me insane. They say it's a place people go to get help, but currently, I feel like I'm trapped.
They keep me locked away in my room all day so I don't hurt myself or anyone else. I mean, they literally never leave me alone. Ever. I suppose that's because I'm here for my suicide attempts but it's pretty weird having a nurse watch you as you take a shower.
However, even though I constantly have people watching me, I still feel more alone than ever. No one is here for me now. Geoff, Michael and the others wanted me locked away. I have no one now.
Speaking of Michael, I snapped at him too.
I kind of regret it now. But I still feel so betrayed. I told him I didn't want to be here and he went ahead and did what I pleaded him not to.
God, I'm sitting here on my bed writing this (with a nurse about ten feet away from me making sure I don't try to kill myself with the pen I'm using) and all I can think is...
It's so quiet...
I used to be able to use distractions to pull myself from my constant negative thoughts but now, here I am, with no distractions, and being forced to deal with what I feel.
It's horrible.
All my thoughts, are just... Horrible.
I want to die.
I want to die.
I need to die.
I closed my journal immediately after that, being scared of what else I might write. Tears were quickly welling up in my eyes and I felt my anxiety begin to rise. The nurse in the corner of the room looked up at me and grabbed her pager, ready to report if I did something.
I leaned back and took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself from my thoughts. But... They were still in my head, swimming about, waiting for me to act upon them.
I became painfully aware of my situation. If I started crying now, the nurse would page someone and I'd be forced to talk to a doctor. But, if I didn't cry, I might have a mental breakdown.
I remembered the pen in my hand. How hard would it be to stab myself with it? Pens are dull and not exactly used for this type of thing, but how hard could it be?
I raised the pen slightly lining it up with my eye. In that moment the nurse rushed forward and took the pen from my grasp. I didn't fight back and let her take it away from me.
She paged someone to come to my room to talk to me. I curled up into a ball on the bed and cried.
I hated this so much.
...
I stared at the ceiling, counting the little holes in the plaster panels. I was at 541 when the door to my room opened again.
"Is he asleep?" The doctor asked the nurse.
"No, we gave him some triazolam but he hasn't fallen asleep yet," The nurse whispered.
How humorous... They're talking about me as if I'm not there.
"Just give him a tranquilizer than," The doctor said, rolling his eyes.
"But, that could kill him. He's already taken two major tranquilizers in two days. The extra dosage could put him into a comatose state," The nurse countered.
"Just give it to him. All these people want to die anyways," The doctor whispered harshly before leaving the room.
Wow... Even the staff has no faith in us.
But, honestly, it didn't come as a surprise. I guess anyone who's been around a bunch of depressed and suicidal people will eventually give up on any of them getting better.
I watched the nurse return with the tranquilizer. I noticed her own upset look on her face. I sat up slightly and watched her for a moment.
"You shouldn't let the doctors walk all over you like that, you know," I told her.
"I know... It's just... Hard," She whispered.
I motioned for her to sit on the edge of my bed. She did and let her head hang down while I gently reached out to rest my hand on her shoulder comfortingly.
"Nurses should really be given more respect around here. You guys are doing all the real work. The doctors are just here to waltz around flashing their fancy degrees and such," I told her, watching her smile slightly.
"They give us all the orders on how things need to get done," She told me.
"Yeah, well I'm sure the nurses could deal with that just fine. Honestly, why are the doctors even here? To diagnosis patients? I'm sure you could do the same thing, perhaps even do it better. How long have you been working here?" I asked.
"About three years," She whispered.
"Okay, so I bet you've seen a lot depressed patients and know exactly what to give them, right?" I asked. She nodded slightly and smiled.
"Who needs doctors then?" I smirked.
"Why do you have to be depressed, Gavin? It's so hard to see a great person like you have to struggle with these types of things," She asked me.
"It's just something I've always had. I've always had the thoughts whether I knew it or not. They just didn't begin to dominate my life until just recently," I told her, looking down.
"You don't deserve this. You really don't," She told me, rubbing my cheek gently before getting up and shoving the tranquilizer into her pocket.
"If there's anything you need, please let me know. I'll be more than happy to help you out," She told me.
As she was getting ready to leave I thought back to Michael. I remembered the nights we used to have conversations like that. He helped me get my feelings out just by talking and he understood a little more about what I struggled with.
"Um... There is something you could do for me," I said quietly.
"Yeah? What's that?" She asked me, stopping at the door.
"Tomorrow, can you call Michael. I need to talk to him."
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So... This chapter had a lot more emotion in it.
I really hope you guys are enjoying this. I've actually already planned out the end of this story and I don't know if I'm gonna do a third book since it would be taking a completely different turn than the last two books.
Anyway, I also wanted to announce that I posted the Prologue to my new story The Boy Next Door. If you have a spare moment, maybe you could check it out? It's going to be a lot like this story except with the roles kind of flip flopped.
And I know this AN has gone on entirely too long but I'd also like to thank everyone for all the support you've given me. It really means a lot that I'm not alone in this and that I have all you guys to look to for help. Thank you all so very much.
Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you thought.