I let the phone fall to my side.
The fog’s hold on my neck turns into rope, tight and hard.
It’s a place where everything and anything are possible. The world is at the tip of my finger, so I take it.
Reaching under the empty bags of crisps, I bring out the blade. It’s been there the entire time with the food and the alcohol and the pills – the ones Mum didn’t see, because she never sees me.
When did it start getting so bad so fast? When did I start losing myself this hard and with no way to come out?
Is this how it feels when nothing is left and it’s all just…fog?
Fog doesn’t tell lies. The fog has been here many times before when I’ve lost myself to that impulse and I couldn’t get out.
Or is it an impulse?
Maybe it’s what I was always supposed to do.
This time, my hand doesn’t tremble; it’s steady and precise. This time, I don’t cry and look at the door expecting, hoping Mum will come here and tell me she’s here for me.
This time, it’s all over.
I slice through the veins vertically in two long, swift moves. At first, it’s just a sting. I feel it, but I don’t at the same time.
Blood oozes out in a steady rhythm, red and vibrant. With it, all the pain filters out and it’s…relief. Complete utter relief.
But it’s not enough.
So I cut harder, not horizontally like a newbie, but vertically and deep until blood splashes in a small fountain all around me.
It’s a mess, just like Mum said.
Maybe she’ll call it a mess, too, when she finds me.
Dizziness assaults me almost immediately. My gaze is focused on the blood as my head lolls back against the wall. I try to concentrate on the wound and how it purges the fog out of me, how it frees me, but all I see is that bracelet and that stupid star.
The star I didn’t have the chance to wear, because I was always scared he’d take it away.
Now, nothing will.
Now, I’m the one taking everything and leaving it empty. The fog slowly dissipates, but no one comes through, no one barges through the door and tells me not to go.
Maybe it’s because I was always meant to go.
The sound of everything ending is just that…the end.
A tear slides down my cheek as I close my eyes and surrender to the darkness.
20
Xander
Today has been a clusterfuck since the morning.
Or maybe my life has been a clusterfuck since the beginning and I’m only starting to see it.
Dad and I had the talk about rehab – secret, of course, because he can’t risk his political enemies or the press finding out that his loser son is detained.
Obviously, I said no. Then he reminded me of Mum’s drinking problems and that I’m becoming like her.