**CONTENT WARNING AND MULTIPLE TRIGGER WARNINGS!**
Depiction of a suicide attempt via overdose made. Vivid depictions of insomnia-induced paranoia as well as a mild psychotic break described. READER DISCRETION IS HEAVILY ADVISED.
Lady death has come to dance
Her kiss sweet and caustic
Her hands preened meticulous
I wish it were ridiculous
But she's really here
Come to collect what's hers
--From the song Slip
Lyrics by Orion Bauwens
I didn't sleep that night. Nor did I get sleep the night after that. Or the one after that. After that, everything starts to blurring together.
I'm still avoiding everyone. I never listened to any of Jake's voicemails. Jake hasn't tried to calling anymore. No one has.
For a while I kept up a relationship with Olivia. We were having sex every day, sometimes more than once in a day. But the more tired I became the more effort it took, so I just stopped. I stopped everything with her, but it wasn't just her. I stopped everything with everyone, period.
My words are all garbage, tripping over one another. I can't think. My body feels like I'm outside of it sometimes. It's getting hard to tell if I'm sleeping or awake.
I can't tell the amount of times I've just stared off into space, then wondered how long I've been sitting there for. Or where the last thing I remember is being in my bedroom, and then suddenly I'm in the basement or some shit with zero recollection how I got there.
It's not like I'm not sleeping due to lack of trying. I swear to God I spent the entire day in my bed once--whatever day that was. But every time I drift off to sleep the weirdest shit happens.
Sometimes I feel like an electric jolt traveled through my body and it makes me jump awake. Sometimes I feel like someone is lying next to me and I startle awake only to find an empty bed. Or I have nightmares. Really, fucking, horrible nightmares.
Nightmares where I'm locked in a room at my adoptive parent's trailer and Tristan has the key but won't let me out, so I beat the door until my hand is bloody. Dreams about killing myself. Dreams about my stalker walking a dog but it's missing its head. Dreams about my biological mother carrying a baby in a blue blanket down an alley, and when she throws it in a dumpster I run over, only to find it was a doll and not a real baby.
Some wouldn't even qualify as nightmares, but they haunt me just the same. Dreams about being on stage and performing. Sleeping with Jake, back before the fame really caught up to any of us. Making love with Tristan, because every time we had sex that's what it was--it was sweet, it was gentle, it was caring.
It's that last one that really, really gets to me. When I'm with women, positions don't matter. Top, bottom, sideways, whatever, couldn't care less so long as my dick is in a hole. But with men?
I like to be in control. I know it's stupid, and petty, and it says a lot about my self-confidence, and toxic gender roles, and blah blah blah...But I don't like bottoming for men. It makes me feel like less of a man. Which--I know--that's stupid.
But with Tristan? I willingly gave that to him. He's the only one I let do that to me. He's the only one I think I'm ever going to let do that to me. Because if it's not him doing it, I don't want it.
I don't think he knows that. I don't think he knows how much that one, simple act means to me. And fuck me, now he's never going to understand how much he means to me. It wasn't just my body I offered up to him, it was my trust, and my love. And I let him in and I fucked it all up.
And it's that reason that I can't fucking sleep and why I keep hallucinating that the shadows are moving, and why I keep hearing someone whispering and I don't think it's me. And the stupid sleeping pills aren't working. I took one yesterday and it didn't do anything. And I took the last one I had today, but all I can do is sit on the edge of my bed and think about how much I miss Tristan.
So I do something that makes sense to me in the moment. I pull out my phone, bringing up Jake's number. After a couple rings he answers.
"Orion," is the curt answer.
"Do you have Simon's number?"
A pause. A very long pause.
"Are you there?"
"Yes," he replies.
"So do you?"
"Yeah..."
"Could I have it please?"
"Why?"
"I want to apologize for being a dick to him last time we spoke."
"Oh. Er, sure. I'll text it to you."
"Wonderful, thanks!"
"Hey Orion--um, I was kinda, kinda hoping we could talk--"
"I really want to get this out of my system before my balls fall off and I'm too scared again to apologize to him, so I can't talk right now Jake."
"O-oh. Okay. Well call me when you're done, please? I need--I need to talk."
"Sure."
After I hang up I receive the text with Simon's number. I feel like such a shit bag for lying. But I've lost count of how many days I've gone without sleep, the sleeping pill did literally nothing, and my brain won't shut the fuck up. I just want silence. I just want some Goddamn sleep.
"Orion?"
"Hey," I say into my phone, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly.
"Hey...Well, you're the last person I thought would call."
"How'd you know it was me?" I scratch my forehead with my thumb nail.
"I forgot to delete your number."
"Oh..."
"So what's up?"
"Er, I just--I wanted to apologize for the last time we spoke."
I can almost hear the shrug over the phone. "Honestly? It's okay. I know you've been through some stuff. And I just want you to know that you can get as angry as you want, but I'll always be your bro, right?"
I can't help but chuckle. "Yeah..."
"I mean, fuck, man. We've known each other since we were little."
"Y-yeah..."
"You okay?"
"Um, yeah. Well, no. I'm just--well I'm going through a lot. And I can't sleep. And I was kinda wondering if you had something--anything--that could help relax me?"
A long pause.
"Simon?"
"I d'no man...Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Yes."
"Orion--you went to rehab."
"So? It was for alcohol."
"Orion..."
"This is different."
A long, heavy sigh. "I'm not gonna be able to talk you out of this, huh?"
"No. And if I can't get it from you I'll go elsewhere."
"Fuck, Orion...do you even know anyone else?"
"No," I admit.
"You can't just trust anyone. Who knows what shit they'll give you."
"Well, you see how I'm in a bind currently, don't you?"
I know I'm being manipulative. I know that he's going to do this, because he doesn't want me to get hurt by something that's laced. It's for exactly those reasons that I'm calling him. I'm a fuck--I can't stand it--but I need sleep.
A deep sigh. "Just this once, understand?"
"Sure."
"I'm serious."
"I know." And I do know, he's a very honest person.
"Alright. I'll be right over."
As we hang up I stare at the phone with one thought in my mind.
Who's the fucking drowning horse now?
~
"Here ya go."
"Thank you!" I say, pulling Simon into a hug. He pats my back.
"Sure dude."
"So," I say when we're done, holding up a small baggie of white pills, "what is this?"
"Carbamazephe. People like it because it makes them feel euphoric."
"That sounds nice...I could use that about now..."
Simon looks at me worriedly. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah. I'm just tired..."
"Okay. Well, do not take more than one at a time, understand?"
"Yeah."
"I'm serious Orion."
"I got it, I got it...Lay off, dude."
Simon frowns. "Alright. Well, call me if you need anything."
"I will."
He starts to walk to the front door.
"Hey, Simon?"
He stops and turns around.
"Thanks. Seriously."
Simon offers me a small smile. "Sure thing, buddy."
I go into the bathroom, grab a glass of water, and take one. I pace around for fifteen minutes. Nothing. So I go back to the bathroom and take an anxiety pill. My brain still won't shut up after thirty minutes. So I go back to the bathroom and take another pill Simon gave me. Same thing, nothing. So then I take the other three because I'm sobbing and fuck it, I just want to sleep.
But it's shortly after that I realize what a bad fucking idea that was. Specifically when I can barely breathe and I'm on the bathroom floor, and my face is numb, and I feel sick to my stomach, and my vision is blurry, and the room is spinning, and I'm struggling to keep my eyes open. Like, I literally cannot keep my eyes fucking open.
My limbs feel like they're made out of lead. It takes me forever to fumble my cell from my pocket. Even then I don't quite make it to my ear, instead having it rest next to my head. Luckily all I have to do is pull up the call history and press one button.
"Hey Orion, long time no talk."
I mumble. My tongue isn't even working. Fuck! I get out that I need him to come back. Or I think I do.
"Orion!" he shouts at me, "how many fucking pills did you take?"
I mumble some more. I can't even fucking understand what I'm saying now, and my vision keeps flashing white and grey and black around the edges. I need to stay awake just a little longer...
"Orion, Goddamn it! Fuck you! Hang on, I'm gonna come back. You better hold on for me, fuck face! Do not fucking die!"
"I'm calling 9-1-1..." I mumble out.
I hang up on him. I manage to dial 9-1-1. But honestly? It's too fucking late.
"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"
I try to mumble something, but my vision has completely gone black now. I can't move my mouth.
"9-1-1--what is your emergency?"
I make some kind of noise. But then I can't anymore. And the last panicked, cognizant thought I can manage is this:
Well, this must be rock bottom. And I hit it. Let's just hope I survive.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you or someone you know is suffering from depression, please reach out for help. **Please**. This includes my DM. My DM is always open.
I love you all. Please be safe. <3
~Sarah