I woke up in the hospital, the beeping already pissing me off. My wrist ached as soon as I moved, but it was reassuring for some reason. I couldn’t remember what had happened at all.
I groaned, a crick in my neck, and turned to the side and was surprised to see a boy with curly brown hair asleep on a chair next to the bed. He had his arms crossed by my side and was laying his head on them.
Arrun looked so peaceful. I wanted to reach out and stroke his hair, but as I did I remembered everything.
My wrist had been wrapped in a bandage. There was a blood stain coming through so I figured that the dressing needed changing.
I swallowed and looked down at Arrun again. His usually neatly applied eyeliner was now in streaks down his pale cheeks, and his brow was furrowed, as if he was worried even while he slept.
It was my fault. I had done this to him. Why was I so fucking stupid? I tried to fucking kill myself!
I whimpered, the full situation hitting me like a ton of bricks, and then an unstoppable flood of tears made their way onto my cheeks. I cried violently, shuddering and shaking. My sobs must have woken Arrun because I felt his arms around me.
“Shh.” He whispered. I didn’t deserve him. He was so good to me. Even after I tried to practically abandon him. I clung to him.
Words weren’t needed.
We needed each other’s comfort. I’ve only ever had this connection with Arrun, where all I needed was him. I didn’t need soothing words, or money, or anything. Just him.
After a while, when my sobs had turned into hiccups, he pulled away a bit to look into my eyes. He was close to tears; the suicide note was clutched in his hands.
“Bri....Why?”
“I love you...” I whispered hoarsely.
“That’s not a reason.” He said through gritted teeth. Could I tell him why I did it? No. I couldn’t even do that in the note.
His eyes searched my face, as if the answer could be found there. When he didn’t find it, he looked down at the bed.
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have tried to kill yourself, Brian.” I flinched when he said that. I had truly shocked myself with the whole suicide. And I still didn’t know what had happened between now and then.
“What....what happened?” I asked, quietly. Arrun sighed but explained that mother had found me bleeding to death. She had apparently bound my wrist and called an ambulance. They stopped the blood flow on the way to the hospital and I had been out cold for roughly two days because of the amount of blood I lost.
And then there was also the fact that the stitches they had put in my wrist kept breaking and it wouldn’t stop bleeding.
“You cut so deep, Bri.” He finished. “How could you do that to me? How could you do that to yourself?” I shrugged.
Arrun stood, apparently fed up with me. I closed my eyes, waiting for a blow to the face, or for him to spit something scathing at me and then leave, but that didn’t happen.
He placed a light kiss on my bedraggled hair and wiped his eyes.
“I’m going to bring your mother, brother and sister in.” He mumbled. “They’re as worried as me.” I shrugged again, decidedly not caring what mother did to me after this.
Arrun went to fetch them while I lay there. I took this time to peel back some of the dressing on my wrist. It had almost stopped bleeding. And it scared me how deep it had gone. No wonder it hurts so much, I found myself thinking. I began to contemplate making it bleed again when my mother ran into the room, her husband close behind. She was actually in tears.
“Brian!” She shouted, running to me and hugging me. I stayed unresponsive in her grip while she cried into my hair. I noticed even her husband seemed somewhat worried about me. Their care was scarier than their wrath. Jess and Adam each gripped one of my shoulders, showing me that they were glad I was okay. Jess even mouthed “love you” at me, which made me smile.
I waited patiently for my mother to regain some composure. I even began to wonder how many days of school I’ll manage to miss. I was busy counting how many days I could milk the whole “invalid” act when mother began talking to me.
“Huh?” I asked, because I wasn’t listening.
“Why did you do such a thing?” She repeated. Oh the nerve. I glared at her. I couldn’t bring myself to forgive her for what she had done to me. She caused this. And I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of telling her so.
“Oh I dunno.” I said. “Just got fed up ‘spose.” She raised her hand, as if to slap me for my arrogance, but then realised where she was. Instead she stroked my cheek. I flinched.
Jess and Adam watched this sadly.
I knew that they knew the truth.
I knew they saw me flinch.
They knew they could have helped prevent this.
Before anyone could say much else, a doctor came to check on me.
Apparently, I was a “very sad, bad boy” and that I was now to see a psychiatrist (they can just try to make me) and that I could leave that day so long as I promise to behave myself.
Mother and her husband took me home, and acted as if they loved me for a while. And then, the alcohol made its way into their bloodstream, and their fists found their way to my body.
After the beating I put a Placebo CD on and fell asleep to it.
“It always stays the same, and nothing ever changes. English summer rain seems to last for ages....”