Warnings ⚠: Child Abuse, Rape, Violence, Religion, Drug Use, Alcohol Use, Use of Slurs, Homophobia, Bullying, Mention of Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Actions, Gun Use
Damien's P.O.V.
-Wednesday, November 3rd-
After Josiah's freak out, I didn't fall back to sleep. I found myself holding him in my arms and remembering bits and pieces from my childhood all night long, all of them involving my dad, of course. By the time the alarm goes off, I haven't slept at alI.
I didn't even have the urge to get up and drink, not sure of when I need to be back at the hospital.
I stared at my phone multiple times that night, waiting for a call from Pierre, saying the worst had happened.
I get up and get ready as quickly as possible, taking this opportunity to take a shower and all of that. When I'm done, Josiah goes in the bathroom and locks the door behind himself. I then hear the shower begin running and I quickly change out of my towel and into some dark jeans and a Panic! At The Disco shirt.
I slip my motorcycle boots on and quickly finger comb my wet hair. While he's still getting ready, I empty my school bag on my bed and pack it up with stuff I'll need to entertain myself at the hospital. I grab my phone, earbuds and charger, and I stuff a leather jacket and some of my homework in there, too.
I'll have to be really bored to do my homework, but you never know.
Josiah comes out of the bathroom in his big white sweater that he was wearing when we first met.
He's so fucking adorable sometimes... I can't even.
He slips some socks and his sneakers on and grabs his school bag.
"So, do you want me to come get you from school and take you back to the hospital with me? Or do you want Pierre to get you and just bring you home?"
"I think I'll be okay with Pierre..."
"Okay, let's go." I say and we walk to the motorcycle.
"No. Not that. I'm never riding that thing again." He protests.
I sigh. "Josiah, just get on, you don't want to be late for class, do you?" I say, handing him his helmet. I'm not going to stop riding my motorcycle, so he better learn to at least accept it.
"You'll change your whole life for me, but not the motorcycle... I see how it is." There's humor in his tone. He thinks this is funny.
I sigh again, holding back a laugh. "I can't give up all of my badass energy."
"You still have your edgy band tees. I don't mind those."
"That doesn't count. If it's something anyone could go and buy, then it's not EDGY ENOUGH ."
He laughs, and I swear to God, it's the best thing I've ever heard. I could listen to his soft airy laugh for hours. Just knowing I was the one who made him smile almost makes me smile.
He begrudgingly puts his helmet on and sits behind me, his arms going around my waist.
Despite us being together, his arms around me is still enough to give me butterflies. Not that I would ever admit it. That's not what an edgy person would do.
I must prove my badass-ness.
I quickly take him to school and, as he gets off the bike and hands me his helmet, I say, "If anyone gives you trouble, call me and I will personally beat the shit out of them."
He nods, " Of course ."
I surprise him by leaning over and kissing his cheek, making his entire face turn red.
I finally let out a laugh at this and he looks at his shoes, embarrassed.
"You're going to be late. Have fun today."
He looks up and smiles at me before rushing inside. As soon as he's safely in the school, I take a quick lap around the parking lot, making sure his dad isn't here.
Once I'm satisfied he is as safe as he can be alone, I drive quickly to the hospital. When I get there, the first thing I do is hit up the cafeteria.
I make the quick decision to get something for Mom. I'm sure she's still where she was last night.
Like Pierre said, she's doing what she thinks will help.
I mean, she would just be waiting anyway...
It's easy to make excuses for people you love.
I hit up the hospital cafeteria first. I grab some fruit, yogurt, and coffee then I head to the chapel. Thankfully, I got no calls or messages or anything, so that must mean no changes. Which is good. Because at least he isn't dead. Granted, he isn't improving, but he's not dead....
I take a deep breath before exiting the elevator.
I don't know if I can do this again.
I force my hands to quit trembling the best I can, and once I get to the chapel, I take a deep breath before going in.
"I got us some breakfast, and I brought coffee." I tell her.
She's still kneeling, beads in hand, her red hair down and messy, mascara still on her face, eyes clamped shut.
She hasn't even changed her position.
One of her eyes peaks open and up at me.
"From were?"
"Just the cafeteria. It's no Starbucks, but I figured it would be better than nothing."
She has an unhealthy addiction to her coffee, something we actually have in common.
She gets up and sits with me at a pew, taking the food and coffee from me.
"Any changes?" She asks.
"No, but I'm tired of waiting." I admit.
"It's all in God's timing." She says serenely, and I don't have the energy to argue with her. Not again.
Let's hope something changes today.
Something for the better.
...
The doctors come in almost every hour, telling us what we already know just in different words.
" No changes ."
I'm getting so frustrated. It's the fucking 21st century. Why the hell can't they do anything? We've evolved over using leeches for every ailment, you think they could figure this shit out.
I check my phone frequently, but there are no bad messages from Josiah. When I know he's at lunch, I text him.
Damien: Is everything going okay?
Josiah: Yeah. I think so.
Damien: I love you.
Josiah: Love you too.
Josiah: 💛💜💙💚❤💗💓💖💕💞💘
Then he kept spamming me with heart emojis until his lunch was over.
By the time 3:00 rolled around, I was outside, trying to get some air. I swear, it's so hard to breathe in that room. It's so full of antiseptic and emotions I can't take it.
What if he dies?
They have a bench outside, by the door, and I sit down there.
It's really cold. I should have gotten Josiah a jacket.
I mean, I could use one, but my jacket is in my bag upstairs.
And I can't go back yet.
I turn up the Taylor Swift in my headphones and attempt to drown out my thoughts. It doesn't work.
I check my messages and see that Pierre said he went home and would be back in a bit.
Whatever, I doubt much will happen in between now and then.
What if he dies?
What then? Do I have to take over the business? How do I take care of my mother? Granted, I know she's more than capable of handling herself, but am I going to have to help arrange a fucking funeral?
And what about Josiah? His dad is still out there, and as much as I pretend I don't care about him, I'm so fucking scared.
I put my head in my hands, my breathing getting even more difficult with every sharp intake of air.
My hands are shaking so fucking hard.
All I want is a drink and a really long nap.
If only to shut up my brain.
I'd do just about anything to shut up my brain at this point.
I pull open Google Maps and see that the nearest liquor store is only a block from here.
I set out and get a bottle of vodka and a flask before driving back to the hospital. I put them in my backpack before Pierre can see then I go into the bathroom.
I just need a fucking drink.
I lock myself in a stall and I fill my flask up, taking a swig from the bottle before hiding it in my bag again.
I slip my jacket on and put the flask in my inside pocket.
I then begin to head back to the hospital room, when I hear an alarming chorus of beeping coming from his room. A doctor and some nurses rush past me and I stop dead in my tracks.
Those weren't good beeps.
No, no, no, no, no ...
No, this can't be happening.
I force my legs forward and into a run.
I try to get into there, too, but a doctor pushes me out before shutting the door.
"What...?"
No, this can't be happening...
This has to be a nightmare.
I'm going to wake up, and Josiah is going to be sleeping soundly in my arms.
And my dad will be perfectly fine.
Everything is fine.
Everything is fine .
Everything is going to be okay .
I back up and lean against the wall, trying to push down any worry.
After a bit, the doctor comes out with a somber look on his face.
No .
"I'm so sorry..." He begins and I immediately tune him out.
He says something. Along the lines of how there was nothing they could do, and at least it was quick, and I'm sorry for your loss.
Before walking away.
That's it.
He's gone .
He can't be gone.
It's impossible.
Suddenly, everything is too much.
The lights are too bright.
The smell of antiseptic is too much.
The beeps stop and I lose it.
I have to get out of here.
I run to the stairs, having no destination.
I try not to think.
I try not to feel.
I just run.
I run out of the building.
Then out of the parking lot.
I keep going until my lungs feel like they're going to burst.
I keep going when my legs feel like they're going to fall off.
I finally stop and I find myself quite a few blocks away, in the public park.
I make my way over to a bench.
Breathing heavily, I sit down and I pull my knees to my chest, my whole body trembling.
I hold back a sob, trying to hold myself together.
I'm just sitting, watching it all come crashing down around me.
I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Josiah.
He's gone.
I can't believe it.
I sit my phone down, and before I know it, my phone starts buzzing and won't stop.
I look at it and I have missed calls from Josiah, and Pierre.
I watch the screen light up as they keep calling.
But I don't move.
I can't.
I don't know how long I've been out here, but after a while I turn my phone off and pull the bottle out of my bag.
I take a long swig, waiting for the warmth of the alcohol to maybe take some of the pain away.
My chest hurts so badly, it feels like I'm going to have a fucking heart attack.
But I just can't wrap my head around the fact that he's gone.
I can't do this.
There's too much.
It's all too much.
I dig down, attempting to think of reasons to hate them.
Maybe if I don't love him, or her, it won't hurt anymore.
It's as if I can feel them, all of the emotions and secrets I've been pushing down since I was eight that day that I watched my mom blow someone's brains out.
The day I saw my parents as monsters.
I vowed I would never EVER become that.
The look on Josiah's face when I called him selfish the other day...
I realized I had become to him what my parents had become to me that day.
A monster .
He's terrified of me, and it's all my fault.
I can't snap again.
I can't. I hardly have Josiah hanging by a thread.
My family is falling apart.
And this is all my fault.
If only I had been their perfect son.
if only I hadn't been so... weak .
Am I being ridiculous? Maybe .
Does that fact make me feel any better about myself? Not in the slightest .
A voice taunts me so loud in my head I'm sure at first I heard it out loud.
" This is all your fault ."
I have another drink.
This is all my fault. I'm right.
I'm so, so stupid.
If only...
What's the point of if only anymore?
I was a fucking goner as soon as I bought this bottle of vodka tonight.
I was a goner the moment I was born into a house of monsters disguising themselves as people who loved me.
There's nothing I can do.
And for once, the music isn't working.
I pull my earbuds out and sit them and my phone in my bag.
I take another drink and watch the sunset from my bench, wishing desperately that I was anywhere but here, but not knowing of anywhere else I could go.
...
After it gets dark and I've run out of alcohol, I still feel nothing. So I go to the liquor store again and grab a second bottle for the walk home. At least I'm not dumb enough to drink and drive.
I can feel the alcohol hitting me as soon as I finally make it home by foot.
I don't know what time it is, my phone has been turned off since 4:00 today...
It's really dark, though.
I stop in our front yard and turn my phone on.
The bright light blinds me and I let out a hiss.
Then I laugh. I'm hilarious .
And shitfaced drunk.
I lay down in the soft grass, not able to go much farther and I call Josiah.
He picks up the phone on the second ring.
"Damien?! What the hell ?! Where are you? We searched, like, everywhere all day! I will get Pierre and we'll pick you up if you tell me where you are."
"I'm in the yard outside," I say, careful not to slur my words, "Bring some blankets, it's cold as balls out here."
"What? The hell are you talking about?! I-I'll be out in a second, t-then..." He hangs up.
After a few minutes pass, I hear the front door open then close.
I don't move at all, I just continue to stare up at the night sky.
"Damien?!" He calls.
"I'm over here. Hi." I sit up.
I hear him walk toward me and then drops a blanket on me.
"Damien, what on earth is wrong with you?!"
I look up and see one really mad Josiah. Like, a REALLY mad one.
Well, by one , I mean three .
Shit. I drank too much.
"Listen..." I start, but then stop.
He stares down at me, waiting.
I don't finish.
I have no excuses.
I just... I couldn't deal with...
" Well ?!"
"Josiah," I start again, but to my surprise, my voice cracks.
I don't feel anything at all, I've drank enough to assure that, but I feel tears falling down my cheeks.
Suddenly, he's beside me, hugging me so hard that I think I'm going to split in two.
I hug him back and he says, "I'm sorry... We were all just so worried...and with how you were acting yesterday, I was so scared you were hurt, or something, I-..."
I cut him off by pulling away just enough to kiss him. His eyes go wide at first, but then he falls into it.
I let myself enjoy the kiss until he pulls away so quickly that it feels like a slap to the face.
"Damien!" He hisses, scooting father away, "Y-Your mom is inside ! What if she...saw us?"
I grunt angrily and lay back down, pulling my blanket over me.
"...Are you seriously drunk right now? I swear to God, you taste like rubbing alcohol smells."
"So what if I am?" I say defensively.
"You're only eighteen! Not only is it illegal, but it will seriously damage your brain since it is still developing. That is why it's illegal! That, and you aren't smart enough to do this! You haven't gotten to the point in your life where you understand the consequences of drinking, or most of the other shit you do. Studies have shown that-"
I cut him off, "Josiah, my dad just..." I stop, I can't say it.
Silence fills the space between us. He's at least sitting down, but it feels like he's on a different planet.
He finally just lays down, pulling his blanket up and over him. It's cold out here, in more ways than one. I've never felt so distant before.
I can't help but worry about scaring him again.
Just like the other day.
"I don't know what to say." Josiah mumbles beside me helplessly.
I just hold my hand out of the blanket and toward him. "Hold my hand?"
I want to feel something.
Anything.
"Your mom..."
"Please." I beg.
I just need to feel something.
He reaches around and I feel his hand slip into mine hesitantly.
"Thank you." I murmur.
I wait for his touch to do what it normally does.
Heal me.
Distract me.
Anything.
But...
Nothing.
Normally, it would make my entire insides feel warm.
But maybe it's the excessive alcohol in my system...
Maybe it's the fact that my dad...
Fucking hell, I still can't even think it. Let alone say it.
Eventually, Josiah says softly, "We need to go inside."
He helps pull me up and we walk silently back into my bedroom.
"Can I stay in the guest room?" He asks me.
"Yeah...my mom..."
He nods and says, "See you tomorrow, then."
He leaves and I feel the cold invisible wall between us seeming to get thicker and thicker the farther he goes.
I flop into bed and pull all of the blankets over me.
I pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow.
...
All night, my brain gives me no peace, and it decides it would be a great idea to remember every single thing I've ever done with my dad, as if showing me some sort of fucking highlights reel.
The three of us going out to see a movie when I was fourteen.
Me and him going on a weekend trip together, just us boys.
Him and I doing fake homemade patch after patch of not actually Boy Scouts, but totally Boy Scouts in our living room together.
The dream turned darker after a minute.
Watching him strangle that guy out when I was eight.
Him yelling at me for making mom mad and being an irresponsible brat.
Him yelling at me for not wanting to be involved in the company.
Him and mom leaving me behind.
Time and time again.
Me begging them to stay with me.
To not leave me home alone.
Them leaving anyway.
The look of fear in the man's eyes as I held a gun to his head...
Them telling me to pull the trigger.
All of the machines beeping.
He died.
He's gone.
And he's never coming back.
My father is dead.
I'm shaken awake and I try to pull myself out of the nightmare.
"Damien, wake up, it's only a bad dream." I hear Josiah say.
Except it wasn't just a bad dream.
It's real.
He's dead.
I open my eyes and he says, "You were shaking and talking in your sleep. Are you okay? Wait, that's a dumb question... Forget I said that."
I just stare up at him blearily. It's still dark out.
"What's going on?" I ask him sleepily.
"Well, I was having a hard time sleeping on my own tonight, s-so..." He starts, looking at my sheepishly, blushing a bit.
I say, "Lock the door."
He leaves for a moment, but then he comes back over beside me.
I get up and lead him to the couch, pulling him against me as soon as he sits down.
I wrap my arms around him and he settles in.
"Thank you." He says, burying his face into my chest.
Nothing.
No butterflies , none of the usual warmth.
I feel nothing at all.
I kiss him on the head and pull a blanket over us, tucking him in slightly. I let my hands play with his hair and before I know it, he's sleeping soundly in my arms.
I'm terrified to go back to sleep.
What if I have the dream again? Or an even worse one?
I just decide to pop my earbuds in and listen to music until my alarm goes off for school.
...
Josiah groans beside me as the alarm yells. "Turn it off..."
I manage a slight smile and do as I'm told.
He stirs and looks up at me with sleepy eyes.
"Good morning." I say, and he looks at me worriedly.
He puts a hand on my cheek and states, "You still seem really tired...and really sad. How can I make you feel better? How can I help?"
I pull him into a soft kiss.
"Just like that." I manage.
In all honesty, there's absolutely nothing he can do to help.
I'm on my own.
Despite him being right here, it still feels like there's some sort of wall between us. And I dont think it's coming from him, for once.
"I'm sorry about yesterday... Do I need to go tell them I'm here?"
Josiah shakes his head, "I told Pierre when you went to bed. They're going to leave you alone for the day, if you need it."
Good.
The idea of facing my mom after abandoning her yesterday is so stressful.
"Well, are you coming to school with me today?" He asks, looking up into my eyes hopefully.
"It's better than being here..." I start and he smiles widely.
"Let me make sure mom doesn't need me today first."
I can't avoid her forever.
I force myself up and I go downstairs.
I find her passed out on the couch and I kneel in front of her, shaking her gently.
"Hey, mom?"
She opens her eyes, and as soon as she sees me, her eyes fill with tears.
"How could you do that to me ?! I didn't know where you were!"
"Like you care ." I murmur.
Everything is always about her.
Maybe if I drink enough, I can shake this painful feeling of nothingness.
Nothing hurts more than this.
"Don't start with me today, Damien. What are you doing up so early?" She asks.
I stay standing in front of her, crossing my arms. "I was going to see if you needed anything today. If not I was going to go to school. It's Thursday."
She looks at me, a bit surprised.
"You don't have to go to school yet. I called your principal the day your dad was in the hospital. You can stay here as long as you think you need to."
"Please let me go... I just need some sort of... normal ."
She looks past me, going over her list in her head. "I can handle today and tomorrow, I'm sure. We're having the showing Friday night and the funeral Saturday morning."
So fucking soon.
I can't do this.
My hands start shaking so I cross my arms tighter.
I can't look weak.
"If you need help, just call me. I can always come home."
She nods, "Okay. You better go get ready, then."
I nod and go back upstairs.
She seemed eager to get rid of me.
Josiah is already ready to go and is just sitting on my bed, tying his shoes on.
He gets up and hugs me gently.
"Are you coming today?" He asks, looking up at me.
"Yep. Just gimme a second to get ready."
He nods and lets me go.
I take a speed shower, getting completely ready to go and then quickly change into some black jeans and a black hoodie. I slip on my black jacket and a black beanie.
Edgy .
It's fucking cold out.
I go into my closet and find Josiah one of my other leather jackets.
I hand it to him and say, "We're going to have to get you your own coat soon. Winter is coming quick."
He nods, "It's r-really cold out... D-Do we get to take the car, then?"
"I left my motorcycle at the hospital, so I guess we have to."
He nods and smiles at me.
I don't even bother attempting to return it. It will only be a lie anyway.
We get in the car and head quickly to school.
As soon as I park and get out, he's at my side holding my hand.
We walk into the school together, just like any other day.
Except it's like...everything's the same but me.
I don't belong here.
No one bothers us all day. In fact, I make eye contact with a few people and they quickly look away, scared shitless at my mere eye contact.
Just like it should be.
No one even dares to look at Josiah, and he doesn't seem to mind.
Normally, I'm the one talking and he's listening, but today, it's the opposite.
It takes all of my strength to listen as he talks to me. I keep finding my brain going back to yesterday. To his death.
I'm so horrible to him. I can't even make myself listen to him talk?
All day I find myself just zoning out.
Josiah starts eating his sandwich and I just stare at my lunchbag.
"So... Find any cool dogs?" He asks me, breaking the silence.
"No." I murmur, playing with the rip in my jeans.
"Did you not look? I thought you had a list of all the dogs. Y'know. Since we have to get every single dog."
"I didn't look at the dog list this morning like I normally do. No dog today."
"Oh. I guess I should pick dog of the day, then. Let's mix it up. Literally. Purebreds are often inbred, we should think about getting a mixed breed. A mix of the biggest breeds all together."
"A test tube dog?" I suggest, " Frankendog ." I say, resting my head on the table, not able to get into the conversation.
"No...but okay. What's the top three big dogs? Let's find a mix of those and feed it a lot and it'll become the biggest dog."
"It's the Great Dane, Neapolitan Mastiff, and the Scottish Deerhound." I recall from memory.
"Alright. So, we find a mix of those, feed it a lot of good food, and... What else can we do to make it really big?"
"Give it lots of love, like they do to Clifford in the show."
"Wait. What? Clifford ? What's that?"
" Clifford the big red dog . It's a kids cartoon." I say into the table.
I could pass out right here.
"A cartoon about a big dog?! Fuck yes. Let's watch that. Sounds like the best show ever!"
"Okay."
He pauses a moment, before trying to pick up the conversation again. "And you should make a list for that. All the good shows and movies that we can watch with couch hugs."
"That sounds nice ." I say, wishing I was at home sleeping, or drinking.
The lunch room is really loud.
I put one of my earbuds in, leaving the other out so I can hear him talk.
That helps...some.
"Oh! When we get pets, who will feed them? If you want me to, I'll need reminders. Because I will forget. I have really bad memory."
"That's not for a long time. We'll deal with it then." I say, looking around the room, noting all the possible exits.
I wonder if I can just...run...?
"Or we can discuss it now so we establish it before we have to worry about it. How long can a dog survive safely without food...? I don't want to hurt any of them. It's a problem."
"We'll make a schedule." I say, looking back over at him.
"Okay. That sounds good. Just remind me to check the schedule when it's time. I will not remember."
"Right."
He keeps talking and I pull my phone out, texting Pierre and asking him to go get my bike from the hospital for me.
He has gotten my motorcycle for me on plenty of occasions.
When I'm done, I lean my head down again and Josiah keeps rambling on about snakes and guinea pigs and hamsters and dogs...
I quickly tune him out, only listening just enough to agree with him occasionally.
...
The day passes too quickly, and soon enough, the bell rings, telling us it's time to go home.
I don't want to go back. It's so much emptier there now. It's always felt empty, but now it's like everything there triggers a memory for me.
I thought about it all day, trying to come up with valid excuses for us to go somewhere.
"Hey," I say as Josiah grabs my coat from his locker and slips it on, "Let's go to the store and get you a coat and gloves and stuff."
"Are you sure you don't want to go home?" He asks, searching my face, worried.
"Honestly, it's the last place that I want to be. Let's go."
I say, convincing myself we need to get him a coat and stuff TODAY .
He shrugs and gets into the car with me.
I just need something to distract me. If it has to be fucking coat shopping, then so be it.
End