Charlotte's POV:
Three days. Three days that I've been sitting in this hospital. Three days that I've done nothing but regret everything. Three days since the worst day of my life.
It's now Sunday (in case you didn't get that already), and I'm still having trouble processing all that's happened. I can tell that it's getting late, but it doesn't matter. I don't plan on going to school tomorrow anyways.
All of the guys are here now, so are Jack's parents. They've taken turns going home each night so that they don't have to stay at the hospital and so that they can get any clothes or things that they might need. Jack's sisters have come back from college, too. Last week was their final week of school, so they luckily are home for the summer now.
It's quiet. Nobody's talking right now. We've passed the point where any of us feel the need to say anything. But, Sam changes that quickly. "I think I'm gonna get going." he says standing up.
"Yeah, me too. We still have school tomorrow." Aaron states.
Everyone soon joins in, except for Jacks family, Johnson, and I. "Okay, we'll see you guys tomorrow." Johnson says to them. They all say goodbye to me, but I don't really respond. They should know better than to expect any reaction from me lately.
After they leave, Johnson turns back to me. "I think that you should go home too Charlotte." he says under his breath a little bit.
"Why?" I ask a little blankly.
"Well you haven't been home in three days, and you haven't slept since Friday. It's not healthy for you."
It's true. I've barely even seen any of my family since Thursday. And sleep hasn't been a priority of mine, so I haven't exactly been able too. But there's no way that I'm giving up that easily.
"You haven't been home either." I argue, trying to get out of doing what he says.
"Yes, but I'm going home tonight, and I've actually slept a decent amount in the past few days. And I plan on going to school tomorrow. I know that you're not though." He says, trying his best to be patient with me
I cross my arms, annoyed by his attempts. But, I guess he's right. It's best for me. "Fine," I finally give in.
"Okay, let's go." he says, getting out of his chair. Then he turns to Jack's parents and sisters. "We're gonna go too." He says to them.
"Okay, be safe driving home." Mrs. Gilinsky tells us. The next thing I know, Johnson is leading me out the door.
As we walk through the parking lot, I can't help but feel guilty for leaving. I feel like I should've said goodbye. But instead I just left Jack there. Alone.
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Quick note: when I was writing this next part of the chapter I was listening to some of these songs
When Youre Gone- Ryan Star
Losing Your Memory- Ryan Star
Thief- Our Lady Peace
My Immortal-Evanescence
And warning: if you're sensitive to subjects like depression or even cutting please DO NOT read this next part or the next chapters.
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We shortly arrive at my house where Johnson is dropping me off. I'm reluctant to get out of the car, but I do it anyways. "I'll see you tomorrow?" He asks me before I close the door.
"Yeah, whatever." I mumble as I shut the door. I then proceed to speed walk towards my front door. I can tell I had a very quick attitude adjustment on the way home. Now I just don't want to be near anybody.
I'm quiet as I come in. All of the lights are off, so I know that everyone's asleep. I make my way up to my bedroom and open the door.
It's only been a few days, but this whole setting feels like a different place to me. I guess things like these really do make you change.
As soon as I close the door, I let everything out. All of the tears, regrets, and emotions that I've been holding captive inside of me escape, and soon enough, I'm crying hysterically on my floor.
Do you know that feeling that you get when you work really hard on a school project and are really proud of it and then when you present it to the class you realize how bad it sucks and how big of an idiot you are for thinking it was good? Well that's kind of how I feel right now, but so much worse.
Everything I've ever done was worthless. This whole time, I've been thinking that one day, all of things I've done would actually pay off, but I was wrong. It was so stupid of me to think that. Now, the person I care about most isn't here. I can't say he's gone. Not yet anyways.
But who's to say that he won't die. The doctors already said that they don't know what will happen, so how do I? The point is, I was foolish enough to believe that everything would work out.
This all is so hopeless. This life isn't working out. I keep thinking that it will, but it won't. Each time, something comes along to make things better. But every time, that thing falls apart, making it ten times worse than it ever was in the past. Life isn't worth the pain that I've been faced with. I know that there are people out there in a lot worse situations than me, but I just can't handle all of the obstacles. I can't do this anymore...
But I won't do it. I won't give in to those voices in my head. There has to be a better answer than suicide, right? I know there is. I mean, what if Jack does live? Then what would happen? I would be gone, and he would be here.
I just need a way to release this all. Something to rid me of all the pain that's been building up inside over the years. I know just what.
I get up from the floor and walk over to my dresser. My fingers are trembling as I open the drawer. I desperately reach in and find what I'm looking for, frantically trying to rid myself of the tears with the backs of my hands all the while. I pull out a regular old black make up bag. At least, it looks like a regular make up bag. But I know it isn't. Inside is the answer to all of this. I unzip it and pull out the shiny metal blades.
I can't remember when I acquired them exactly, which is a little strange. I just remember one day, when things seemed really bad, and went into my bathroom and pulled out the razors that I had used to shave. I recall taking them apart, piece by piece. I've never used them before. But I guess that just knowing that they were in my possession made me feel better. But, it doesn't really matter now. I just have to do this.
I go into my bathroom, locking the door behind me. Slowly I bring the metal up to my wrists, and begin the job.
One for every stupid thing I've ever done.
Two for every mistake I've ever made.
Three for every person I've ever upset.
Four for just being me.
And lastly, the fifth one is for Jack.
I examine my bloody wrists. The pain is unbearable, but yet it feels so good. I closely look at each one, remembering what they represent. The five clean cuts are just part of it though. There's so much more that I deserve to be punished for, but I don't know how much more I could take at this moment.
The tears continue to drop, mixing with the blood on my wrists and the bathroom counter.
Suddenly, I feel my mood change. All of this rage starts to build up inside me. Of course I'm angry. Nothing ever goes the way it should, ever.
I pick up the blades, viciously throwing them at the wall. They leave deep marks in the paint, but I don't care. I open the door and enter my room once again. I look around, trying desperately to find a way to let all of this anger out. I turn to the dresser, and with one quick motion, every thing is thrown to the floor.
Once again, I'm sobbing. I go over to my bed and start throwing all of the pillows at the wall, hoping it will help. Blood is still dripping from my wrists, but I make no attempt to stop it.
Soon, everything I see becomes a projectile. Each of my belongings are being destroyed as I continue to throw them, trying to make myself feel better.
Eventually, I feel my legs start to give out. I collapse onto the floor, not knowing what to do anymore. My face and hands are soaked from the tears. The blood has been smeared all over my wrists.
Within seconds, I hear my door open. I guess I never locked it. Someone quickly comes to my side, putting their arms around me. I don't have to look up to know it's my brother.
"Charlotte, please, calm down." he pleads.
I don't look up. I keep my head buried in my hands, engulfed in cries of pain and grief.
"Calm down, its okay. Please just look at me."
He continues to repeat those words, begging me to look up so he can help dry my tears. So I give in. I look up to see a terrified, sorrowful, and heartbroken expression painted on his face. Caleb's always been so good in bad situations, so it horrifies me when he's not.
I quickly look back down, not wanting to see his expression any longer. Caleb gives up on trying to get me to listen to him, so he just tries his best to cheer me up.
He sits down close to me and wraps his arm tighter around my shoulder, rubbing my arm with his other hand. I get that he's trying his best to help, but it's just not working. There is no shortage of water in my eyes right now. The only thing that could make it better would be if Jack walked through my door right now, but I'm not even sure if I'd be completely okay then.
"Shhh, it's okay." Caleb continues to mutter. His soothing words are slowly calming me down.
When the sobs are finished echoing through my room and I've seemed to calm down enough to actually function, he begins to speak again.
"I know it hurts, sis. It has to. But this isn't healthy. You can't hide all your emotions from people and then release them by hurting yourself. You know that does nothing but make it worse."
What he doesn't know is that that's all I've ever been taught. Not to let others see how weak you really are. To keep all of your emotions tucked away so that nobody can find them. I've become so good at it that trying anything else is a lost cause. Coming to this realization makes me feel even worse, and I can feel the cries threatening to escape my throat again. Eventually, they take over one more time.
"Charlotte, you need to stop crying." Caleb begs.
"I-I can't ." I stutter in between breaths.
He sighs, obviously disappointed with our situation.
"Let me see your wrists." He reaches out in attempt to take hold of my arms. I pull them away quickly, tucking them into my curled up body. "Please, Charlotte. I'm trying to help." He says.
I loosen up a little bit, allowing him to gently grab my hands. He examines my damaged wrists, and the expression on his face is unbearable. I feel as if I'm an embarrassment for him, and it makes me hate myself even more.
"Come on." he says, pulling me up, careful to avoid my cuts.
He drags me into my bathroom and makes me sit down on the edge of the bathtub. I watch as he opens the cabinet under my sink, taking out the first aid kit that our parents insist stay in each bathroom in the house.
Caleb pulls out the roll of bandages, coming over to me. As he wraps the bandage around my arm, he makes another attempt at speaking to me.
"Charlotte, why would you do this to yourself?" He questions, not looking up from what he's doing.
I take a few deep breaths so that I'm able to speak. "I-I dont-know." I stutter.
"You do know, you just don't wanna say." He argues, keeping a gentle tone.
I take a few more deep breaths so that I won't break down again. "I just couldn't take it. Nothing is working out anymore. Eveything's falling apart..." I drift off a little at the last part, not wanting to hear myself admit it out loud.
Caleb ties up the bandage on my arm and sits beside me. "Listen, I know that this is really hard for you right now. I know that it seems like things aren't gonna get better, but they will. But doing things like this to yourself just won't help. It will only make it worse for you and everyone else."
I look over at him, completely aware that what he's saying is true. Too bad he doesn't know how it feels.
"Come here." he says, holding his arms out for a hug. I gratefully accept the offer, happy that someone is here for me when I need it most.
He slowly pulls away and reaches down for the blades that are sitting on the floor. "Okay, I'm taking these." He steps out of my bathroom for a second and leaves my room, going next door to his. When he comes back, he no longer has them. I don't even bother asking where they are. There's no way he would tell me anyway.
"Now come on." he reaches down and pulls me up by my hand, leading me back out of my bathroom. "I think it's time for you to go to bed." he suggests, acting as if I'm his four year old sister.
I look up at him, not completely sure if he's leaving or not. He answers my question without me even asking. "I'm not going anywhere. I hope you realize that." He pulls back te covers on my bed (that have small drops of blood on them from my rampage) and motions for me to lie down. So, I do. I watch as he pulls a blacklet out from my closet and sits down in my desk chair. He makes himself as comfortable as you could possibly be in a spinny chair. "Goodnight sis." he says, reaching over to turn of my lamp.
I guess I just forgot how nice it was to have people there for you.
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A:n
This is a pretty long ass chapter
For me at least
I honestly suck at writing when it comes to depression so I apologize if it's not that great
Anyways me and my friend (she's actually a real bitch) have a fan page on Instagram for Jack G and Matt (we include the other guys in there too sometimes) so you guys can follow is if you want I might keep you guys updated on the chapter progress that way
Username- espinosa_gilinsky
So yeah do that if you want
But okay I'm thinking that this is just going to be one of those ongoing stories that doesn't really have a specific plot it just keeps going
I also just realized that I use so yeah as I casual transition way more than is needed
So yeah I hope that you guys liked it