A/N: I realize I'm not done with either of the other Kellic stories I'm writing, but this one's been rolling around in my head for quite awhile, and I just thought I'd let it out. Please let me know if you enjoy this chapter, and I'll try to keep regularly uploading on it. <3
[Kellin's POV]
There comes a point in here at which everything becomes messier here than it was on the outside. For me, that was about a month and a half back, when six months here turned into a year. When they decided I couldn't be trusted on the outside yet. To be fair, that's probably because in those five and a half months, I'd only been to group twice and the rest of the time I'd refuse to go or I'd been in solitary. That was my fault... Usually. My fault because I'd been caught doing something I shouldn't, that meaning I'd been saving up my pills for the grand suicide attempt, because I'd been caught somewhere I shouldn't be trying to do something I definitely shouldn't, or because one of the nurses noticed I hadn't been eating- or that I'd eaten and then promptly run off to the bathroom to rid my body of all the calories.
My brain always screamed at me about the calories... Or about the fact that I wasn't someone anyone wanted around, let alone wanted to love. I wasn't ever someone who fit in, which would have been fine had it not been for all the gay jokes. I'm not gay. I mean... I've never had a girlfriend... But I've never had a boyfriend either, and I definitely know I like girls.
Anyways, today's going to be the third trip to group unless I manage to fuck it up between now, which is lunch, and group in half an hour. I'm betting not, though I can't say I've never done it before.
Today there's a new boy here, my new roomie since Gerard left about two weeks ago. I was sad to see him go, but I didn't really know him that well. He didn't talk much. Today the new boy isn't in the cafeteria, every new patient has a supervised lunch the first day. You start at level zero when you get here, which means supervised lunches, not in the cafeteria. All it takes to get to level one is going to group, the first time that is. The second, third, fourth, etcetera, times that you get dropped back to level zero it isn't as easy to achieve level one status. I've somehow done it in as little as two weeks before, but not many do. Most people take two or even three months to achieve level one for the second time. I guess it gets easier the more times you drop back.
This new boy will be in my group and I intend to meet this mystery, maybe even befriend him. Jenna has been talking my ear off about this boy and I want to meet him.
Jenna and I are actually pretty close. She's the only one who will tolerate me and vice versa. Aside from Tay, but she's another story.
Eventually, I finish picking at my lunch and Jenna does too, so we request permission to leave the cafeteria and sit in the hall, a would be normal thing for the two of us had I not been in my room or solitary most of the time, but Jenna always manages to get in there somehow. Not just for me, though... for Tay, too. Tay gets thrown in solitary only slightly less than I do, and she's always in there way longer than I am. Jenna and Tay have been a couple since I got in here, both of them having been here longer than I have, Tay by a year, Jenna by two months.
Tay's been in solitary for about a month now, and Jenna's refused to even try seeing her this time. I'm assuming something went down between them immediately before she went in there this time, as when we push through the doors and I ask I'm answered by a furrowed brow, too concentrated for the girl who loves her more than life itself.
"What was that look?" I ask.
She doesn't answer, only goes to our "usual" spot and outstretches her arms to me, beckoning for me to join her. As I do, she lays her head in my lap, the way I only let her and Tay do.
She looks tired today, and her eyes are glassy. "Jenna, did you sleep?" I ask her, she shakes her head, looking up at me dreamily, before yawning and closing her eyes.
It's an unspoken thing between us that I play with her hair when she lays her head in my lap, and she's out in no time once I do.
I make sure not to move so I don't wake her, because she doesn't sleep nearly as much as she should, but then again, neither do I. Until, of course, about two minutes before the nurse will come out to let us know it's time to head inside for group.
"J, it's time to wake up, the nurse is gonna be out in a couple minutes," I say, shaking her gently.
She groans softly and sits up, rubbing her eyes and running her hand through her hair, looking rather grumpy. Marisa better not ask her to talk in group today, I'm not thinking she'd like the outcome.
Sure enough, the nurse comes out almost as soon as she sits up, "Kellin, Jenna, group is going to start soon. New boy is coming today, better get a move on. Nice to see you out and about again, Kellin."
I smile at her and nod as I stand. I'd help Jenna up, but physical contact is frowned upon in here. Instead, she stumbles as she stands, earning a suspicious look from the nurse and a small, worried sound from me. She's gotten Jack to get her extra pills before, almost killed her then, and I wouldn't doubt she'd try again. I know Jack wouldn't do it for her this time, Alex wouldn't let him do that. Alex knows how important she is to me and Jack is equally important to him so it would be in both of our best interests to keep them both out of trouble and out of solitary.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Jenna says reassuringly, looking from me to the nurse quickly as the nurse retreats to the cafeteria.
I look at her suspiciously, "what was that?"
"I'm fine, Kell, I promise. I'm not doing anything stupid... I just... Haven't slept well since Tay went into solitary," she said.
"Jenna," I say as I push through the door and make my way to a seat in the circle, her right beside me, "what happened between you and Tay before she went into solitary this time?"
Jenna bites her lip and then looks at me, teary eyed. "It wasn't her fault, she... She didn't mean it," her voice broke as she spoke and I swear it looked like she would break down right there. "She didn't mean what she said her... Her brother... She didn't mean it," she shook her head as she looked away from me.
I look around to make sure there's no one here who will scold me for this, then I hug her tightly, allowing her to fall against my chest. I don't like physical contact, but I know it comforts her, so I do what I can. "Jenna, it's okay... You're okay. What'd she say?"
Jenna looks up at me and shakes her head, "I'll tell you later..." She mumbles as another nurse walks in, leading a short boy with messy brown hair and brown eyes that look around like a lost puppy, never meeting anyone else's, and let's him sit down in the only other empty seat, directly across from me.
He sits down and is staring at the floor, he doesn't even look up when Marisa walks in. She doesn't notice him right off anyways, but she notices me. "Kellin! It's good to see you here today!"
I nod, smiling as all eyes, including this new kid's, fall on me. I begin to feel self conscious, so I shake my head so that my hair falls over my eyes and I don't have to see them watching me, though the boy whose attention I've inadvertently caught looks away as soon as I do this and I regret that decision.
The question is, why? Why do I care that he's looking back at the floor? That's what I wanted, wasn't it? I wanted them all to look away from me, right?
Pretty soon, Jenna's elbowing me in the ribcage and I look over to her, glowering. She jerks her head in Marisa's direction as though she's asked me something, so I brush my hair away from my face and look at her apologetically, "I'm sorry, what?"
"How are you feeling today, Kellin?" She asks again, a sympathetic look in her eyes.
I contemplate telling her I'd like to kill myself, but I don't want to be placed on suicide watch, so I go simple, "neutral."
She writes something down on her stupid clipboard, brow furrowing as she looks back to me, "care to elaborate?"
"What's there to elaborate on? I'm neutral. That's not good and it's not bad. It's a state of being where nothing particularly bothers me but I'm not exactly happy either. I'm existing, but I'm not really living," I say, noticing the boy's eyes flicker up to me a few times while I'm speaking, looking kind of shocked, but I don't know why. Why am I so fascinating to him?
"Thank you, Kellin," she says and looks over to the new kid, finally bothering to acknowledge his existence.
"So, Victor," Marisa begins, "I know it's your first day, but how are you feeling?"
"It's Vic," he mumbles almost inaudibly, but says nothing more and doesn't even look up at her.
"Okay... Vic, how are you feeling?" She asks again.
He shrugs, not speaking.
Marisa scribbles something on her clipboard and sighs, moving to Jenna. "How are you feeling today, Jenna?"
"Like hell," she says, her tone acidic enough to make me wince, "I don't want to be here."
"Define here, Jenna," she asks.
"Maybe I don't want to define here," Jenna says and I sigh, having known from the start that Marisa shouldn't have tried with her today.
"Ms. McDougall, please cooperate, define here."
"I mean in group... Obviously." Jenna says, and I know she's lying. I'm not an idiot and Jenna isn't as hard to read as she thinks.
"Thank you, Jenna." Marisa accepts it, then tries to go back to Vic, but I've tuned out, so I don't know if he actually says anything.
This is how group usually goes, she'll ask us questions, but she won't ask everyone, though everyone is supposed to speak. I say supposed to, because there are always the ones who refuse to say anything, like Vic.
Anyways, now it's the time where we get to do whatever, go to the lounge, sit in our room, until dinner, which will be in about four hours.
I get up to leave with Jenna when Marisa calls me back. I sigh, looking over my shoulder at her, then to my friend, "don't wait up for me I guess..."
I go over to see what she wants and notice that she's still got Vic with her, as well. Great. Since he's my roommate, I'm probably being forced to show him around. Now I'm never going to know what Tay said to Jenna that's got her so worked up.
This is just lovely. "So, Kellin, I thought that since Vic will be rooming with you that it might be nice of you to show him around, help him meet some people."
"You're under the impression that I know people here, but you forget how often I'm in my room or solitary. What makes you think I'm the one who should show him the ropes?" I ask, and he looks up from the ground, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. I send him a small smile back and he turns a bit red, quickly looking back to the floor.
"I was hoping you'd just say yes, but you're Kellin. I should have known you'd have responded that way," she sighs, "at least introduce him to Jenna, please? And still show him around."
"Sure, whatever," I say and she smiles, pleased that she's gotten the response she wanted out of me, thinking that I'm being obedient.
"Okay, so... Vic, this is Kellin, Kellin, Vic."
"Hi," I offer, but he doesn't look up, which is fine since I'm not the most outgoing person.
I gesture for him to follow me before turning to exit the cafeteria, Marisa pushing him gently to follow me. "Come on. I'll show you around."
As we leave, he takes up a spot next to me, the place where Jenna or Tay usually would be. This is also fine, because he's not in my bubble, and he's not talking to me. Until, that is, we get about ten feet from the lounge.
"Actually," he begins, sounding nervous, "can we stop off at the room, first?"
I nod at his request, "certainly. Did you need something from there, or...?"
"No, I just... Don't like crowds. Don't want that many eyes on me at once."
"Don't I know it. But trust me, the people in here aren't that bad. Most of us don't like eye contact, so I don't think that many people would stare."
He shrugs as we round the corner to go into our room. "Still, though..."
I shrug and lean against the wall next to our door, not expecting that we're going to be in here for all that long. But he looks really lost.
"You okay there?" I ask.
He shakes his head without looking at me.
I sigh, pushing off the wall and going a bit closer to him, though not too close. I learned a bit from befriending Tay. You don't know what a person's going to do, she was the sweetest girl until she swung. Not the point, but still. He seems on edge anyways, and I don't know him, why he's in here, or what he might do. "So what's wrong, then?"
"You're naive. That's what."
"How am I naive?" I'm not even sure where that came from.
"You believe that just because all of us are in here for a reason that we're not all secretly judging each other. I mean, come on. Every time someone looks at you they're assessing how close to the edge you are, or what your condition is, why you're here. Everyone wants to know and don't you dare pretend you don't do the same."
So he's got me there, but I'd never admit that to him. He just got here, who does he think he is to tell me what I do? Then again, I'm not really one to fight. "I guess you're probably right. But honestly, I don't look at anyone in here, so I probably don't."
"I guess we're one of the few and far between then," he says, "people like us gotta stick together. Especially in a place like this."
"I don't think you'll think that in a few days," I say softly, and maybe a bit darkly as well.
He looks at me, brow furrowed, for a moment. "What does that mean?"
"It means I'm a moody piece of shit who constantly thinks of suicide and you don't want to deal with that. I don't know why Jenna or Tay do."
He nods, looking away again. "Maybe because that's what a friend does. There's that naivety again. I said what I did because I truthfully believe people like us should stick together. And I'm interested in being your friend. I'm the same way. Why else would I be here?" He tugs at his jacket sleeves, and I'm almost surprised I've gotten as many words out of him as I have so far.
I shrug, "I guess you have a fair enough point. But still... There are plenty of reasons people come in here. But that's beside the point. We've gotta go now, because I promised Marisa I'd at least introduce you to Jenna. We can come back here as soon as I do that, if you want, but I have to do that."
He heaves a sigh and walks out the door in front of me as I close the door. Jenna's probably back in her room, but who knows.
We walk into the lounge. And oddly enough, she's there. In a chair alone in the corner, sure, but there.
I walk over to her, gesturing for him to follow me. He does so, though exceedingly reluctantly. I can't exactly say I'm surprised.
"Hey Jenna," I say brightly, and she looks up.
"Marisa wrangled you, huh?" She asks, referring to the fact that Vic is now less than four feet from me at all times.
I sigh, "Jenna, be nice."
"Sorry," she mumbles, looking down, then between Vic and me. "So, you gonna introduce me or what?"
"Right, that's what I was about to do," I say, almost having forgotten why I dragged Vic out of our room and into the very crowded lounge. "This is Vic," I say, gesturing to him, "Vic, Jenna."
She waves at him and he does little more to acknowledge her than lift his head for a solid five seconds.
I sigh again, "Vic, can you wave back, at least?"
He waves, looking at me in a way to ask "can we please leave now?"
I give him a small nod and then turn back to Jenna. "Hey, so I'm gonna go show him around a little bit more. So, I'll see you at dinner?"
Jenna nods, "unfortunately."
I sigh, simply turning and walking away. She gets like this sometimes and as much as I want to tell one of the doctors I'm worried, I don't want to get her put on suicide watch. It usually goes away, so I can't do anything.
Once we get out of the lounge, Vic looks over at me. "You're worried about her. You didn't have to come with me, you could've stayed and talked to her."
I shake my head and look back at him, our eyes meeting for a moment before both pairs dart away. "No I couldn't," I say, "Marisa gave me a job aimed at setting me on the road to level two. Not to mention the fact that I didn't want to be in there."
"But you're worried about her," he reiterates.
"Of course I am, Jenna's my friend. But she gets like this sometimes and there's nothing anyone can do to fix it."
"What do you mean?"
"Jenna's in here for attempted suicide and major depressive disorder," I say, "don't tell her I told you.
"I don't think she and I will be doing much talking, to be completely honest."
"She's just in a bad mood is all, she'll warm up to you," I say. I start nervously chewing my bottom lip as we walk, realizing it's probably my fault. I'm the one who brought up Tay.
"What's wrong with you?" He asks, watching me as we round the corner into our room and I sit cross legged on my bed, furrowing my brow as he sits on the edge of his bed, his legs dangling over the side.
"Nothing's wrong with me," I look down, picking at my jacket seams.
"You're also a very bad liar," he observes, watching me.
When I look up, he looks away, scooting to the middle of his bed.
"No I'm not," I say defensively, my hand going to my hair and tugging at it roughly, a nervous habit of mine.
"Maybe not to others," he begins, tugging at his jacket sleeve, "but I'm observant and I know you're lying. Obviously, we just met, so it doesn't matter whether you tell me or not, but I don't want you to do anything stupid."
"I'm not going to do anything stupid," I say, pulling my hand away from my head with a few strands tangled through my fingers. "I don't want to be stuck here for the rest of my life."
"Then talk about it," he pushes.
"No. I have my problems and you have yours. I don't need to bother you with my stupid problems. It doesn't matter anyways."
"If it didn't matter, you wouldn't be upset, and I wouldn't be asking if it were a bother."
"It's my fault Jenna's acting this way," I say, reluctantly giving in.
"How so?" He asks.
"I brought up her girlfriend because I was curious, and I guess she said something to her that upset her and I brought it up," I say, "it's my fault."
"It's not your fault if something happened between the two of them," he says, "that's like taking responsibility for a murder when you weren't on the same continent as the scene of the crime." It's a little exaggerated, but I get his point.
"Yeah, well she was fine until I brought her up."
"Then maybe she should go talk to her."
"Technically, she can't," I say, "physically, she won't."
"What do you mean by that?" He asks, brow furrowing.
"What I mean," I begin, "is that her girlfriend is in solitary, so technically she can't talk to her. However, she gets into solitary all the time. She has her ways, I've never asked, so she could but she won't. She's upset, but she'd never say that."
"Well, who would?" He asks, "no one wants to admit that their mad at their significant other."
"But that's bad for Jenna," I admit, "it's bad for anyone, but especially her."
"What makes it so much worse for her?" He looks so confused by my statement.
"She's here, isn't she?" I ask, "just like everyone else. Like I said, she's here for a suicide attempt and major depressive disorder. And she's attempted suicide in here more than once. I don't want her to do anything to hurt herself again."
"You can't stop her, you know. If she wants to she's going to."
"I know, but..." I trail off, not wanting to finish that thought.
"But you care about her," he observes.
"Yeah. That." I say, trailing off.
"Why does it sound like you're upset by that?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
It's not a lie, I don't. I don't care about anyone but Jenna. But I don't want to tell him that. He doesn't even know me. He doesn't know what I'm here for. He knows no more about me than I do him. We know nothing more than a name and some kind of familiar face.
It's quiet for a few more minutes before I realize something.
I'm the only one he's willingly spoken to and taken direction from this entire time he's been here. I don't know this guy from Adam and yet he's trusting me more than the doctors. Me, a suicidal manic depressive. Not that he knows that.
"So," I begin, "I've got a question."
"Oh god, please don't tell me I was wrong about you," he mumbles, looking up.
"No, no," I say, "I'm not going to ask why you're here. I just wanted to know why you're talking to me but you wouldn't talk to Marisa."
"Oh. That. Right." He shrugs, obviously not wanting to talk about it, but surprisingly enough, he continues to speak. "It's just that I've dealt with therapists before. I was in therapy for several years of my life and it's not like any of them actually care what the fuck is going on in your life. And you can't really tell them what you feel. If they know you want to hurt yourself or kill yourself, they'll send you away."
I nodded in complete understanding. I'd felt the exact same way since my arrival here. I'm not an idiot, so I know that's true. To them, we're just what they have to deal with for a massive pay out at the end of two weeks. We don't mean anything to them. "But why are you talking to me? A lot of patients feel that way, so what made you choose me?"
"I could tell you understood me on that level just by the way you carefully answered her question today in group. And your face told me literally everything I needed to know. That you wanted to die, but of course you wouldn't say that because the second you do, you're on suicide watch. Who really wants that?" He shrugs, "everyone else was too honest."
That's because everyone else wants to get out of here, and they want to get better. I was forced to come here. I don't have anyone waiting for me to get out. I have no reason to leave. I'll be on the streets when I leave. If I leave. If I have my way, I'll die in here. But I wouldn't dream of telling a complete stranger that.
"I guess that's a fair enough point. But I think it's because they have lives to get back to. All I have to get back to is a suicide attempt."
"You have to make them think you're getting better if you want to get out and try again." He says.
"I guess I know that, but... Wait... Why are you trying to help me kill myself?"
"If it's going to make you happy or give you peace or whatever, then do it. Who am I to stop you? Besides, my plan is the same."
"I guess so, but I can't say I haven't tried once or twice while I've been in here. All that's gotten me is a trip to solitary."
"No surprise," Vic says, as if it should have been obvious. But it's not like I meant to be caught by the nurses. I honestly wouldn't have been caught by my parents if my mom hadn't been home.
"Yeah, yeah. I know," I say, "it was stupid, anyways. I did it because I'm an idiot but I needed out. I still do need out. But it's not like I'm going to succeed in here."
"Of course you're not," Vic says, looking at me. "They'd get in trouble for that. They could get sued for that. By your parents, that is."
Little does he know that my dad's absentee and my mom and I have a bit of a crappy relationship. I honestly have to say I blame my dad for that. We were really close before my dad up and left us.
My mom and I don't really see eye to eye on my dad's disappearance.
I wouldn't tell him that, but still, I shake my head. "That's where you're wrong."
"About?"
"My parents wouldn't sue. We'll leave it at that."
"I'm curious though," he says quietly.
"I'm sure you are. But still. I'm not going to tell you. Because that's painful backstory and you still don't need my shit."
"I guess it doesn't matter to me if you don't want to tell me. All things considered, it makes sense."
"Yeah," I mumble, looking down and wishing Marisa had assigned him to anyone else but me. I have too much to hide. I can't risk him finding out any part of it, which would be very much possible with the amount of time he seems to be planning on spending around me. Not to mention I'm probably never going to find out what the fuck Tay said to Jenna that upset her so much.
He looks up to me for a moment, sympathy showing in his eyes. "I'm sorry..." He mumbles.
I simply shake my head. "What are you sorry for?"
"Everything."
"Don't be. Nothing's your fault. Life happens and you just can't be sorry for something that doesn't involve you. It's like you said before about blaming yourself for something that wasn't your fault. I'm fucked up."
"It's still shitty and I'm still sorry about it."
"But you don't have to be. And you honestly shouldn't be. Because I'm okay with it. I've accepted it to be the truth. No questions asked as to why me. Not anymore at least."
"Why aren't you upset about the fact that you're here?"
"I'm fucked up. I failed a suicide attempt. I'm here. I tried twice in here. I failed again. They're keeping me longer because of it. Oh fucking well. It's not like I can change it now."
He nods, "fair enough. I'd have been pissed if I were you though."
"It's my own fault, who can I be pissed at? Myself? Too much of that anyways."
"I guess you're right. I'm kind of pissed I'm here, though."
"Pissed you're here or pissed you got caught? Because I for one am not pissed I'm here. I'm pissed I got caught because had I not been caught I would have succeeded."
"It's a little bit of both, I think," he says, shrugging. "I was as good as dead before my brother found me, but I can't do anything about that now. And I really kind of can't fault him for wanting to keep me from dying."
"Can't you, though?" I ask, "I mean... It's not his choice whether you live or die."
"I'm all he's got. I knew that when I tried. I wouldn't even blame him if he never forgives me for it."
"I guess I kind of understand," I said, knowing what it's like to have nobody, though not exactly having been in his brother's position before. So I can't say I don't blame him. I can say I blame my mom, though. Because she didn't care that much before I tried, but after the fact, she cared a shit ton. And fuck that. I'm not okay with that in the slightest.
How is it fair for someone to openly not care about you and then you try to kill yourself and suddenly they can't live without you? That's not fair, and it pisses me off to no end. I've never been so annoyed at someone in my life. My life that would have been cut short, and before anymore damage could occur, if it hadn't been for my mother's hasty intervention.
"You in there?" Vic asks, and I'm shaken out of my sudden anger and annoyance at the thought of what happened.
"Oh... Yeah. Sorry."
"No worries, you just got really quiet and I wasn't sure if you were going to be okay or not. I've seen that happen a time or two and it never ended too well."
I furrow my brow, but decide not to ask.
"If you're wondering how I know, it's my best friend," he said quietly, "he snapped a few times. And it always started out in complete silence."
I nodded, looking down and picking at the seam in the sleeve of my hoodie. Now that, that I know about. Except one of the times, my only friend didn't just snap.
My only friend killed herself.
She had a lot of problems, so I can't exactly say that I blamed her for what she did, but that didn't change the fact that I missed her. She was the only reason I was still alive and then she went and offed herself. I felt so fucking helpless and I couldn't change her mind, so I did the only thing I thought I could. I attempted suicide. Of course we all know what happened after that. I'm here, even though I really would prefer otherwise. Can't change that.
"You're thinking about something. And it's bothering you," Jesus, I wish he wasn't so observant. He's gonna get really annoying really fast if he keeps doing this. Or he's just gonna get inside my head the way none of the therapists have and the way no one ever should be. But somehow I'm not really affected by him the way I would be normally. I'm not deterred by his presence, and I wouldn't be opposed to telling him if he asked.
"Yeah, you're right," I say quietly, glancing up at him for a moment. Seeing his eyes trained on my face, seeing concern in them.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks carefully, judging my reaction, or at least trying to.
I nod, probably the opposite of what he expected me to do, but for some reason, some part of me is telling me not to shut him out like I do Jenna and Tay.
"Okay," he murmurs, coming over and sitting next to me.
I shift away, somewhat instinctively, but I play it off as just making room for him, facing him. "Well... I mean... You see..." I'm struggling to find the words I need to say, even though mere moments before they were clear in my mind.
"Take it easy," he says quietly, looking over at me. "Just breathe and say whatever's on your mind. It's not like I have the right to judge you in any way."
"Well... You were talking about your friend going from quiet to snapping a few times?"
"Yeah...?"
"My best friend was like that," I say slowly and carefully. "But this one time... She didn't just snap. She... She killed herself."
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to..."
I cut him off, "no, it's fine. She's... That's actually the reason I'm here, though." I mention that more in passing than anything else, but I know from the look on his face that he caught it.
"Is she...?" He's afraid to ask, and who can honestly blame him?
I nod, "she's the reason I tried to off myself. She was my only friend and I felt so helpless after she died. Call it survivor's guilt, I guess. I couldn't help her want to live, so I didn't deserve to."
"That's not really how that works, but I understand," he says softly.
"I guess part of me never really wanted to live either, so maybe I'm not one to talk."
He nods, "it's hard to make someone else want to live when you don't even want to."
"That's kind of where I was at. And where I still am, I guess."
"I understand," he says.
I want to ask him his story, but I know that would be inappropriate, so I don't.
He looks at me then, though, and speaks. "I'm here for a sort of similar reason. Only it's not really... I just wanted to die because I just did. I didn't find life to be worth a damn."
"But people needed you, the same way people claimed to need me," I observe.
"You're not wrong," he says, "though I'm sure whoever saved you really does care. Otherwise they wouldn't."
"Not true. She did it because it was morally correct. My mother doesn't do things because she needs me, she does them because she can't have her name disgraced."
"Technically, wouldn't it still?" He asks, "I mean, you still tried."
"And I almost succeeded, but they think her brave because she saved me. And because she's getting me help. They painted her the hero in my sob story. 'Oh you poor woman, your son has a mental illness and you're getting him help all on your own, you deserve all the praise'. But she doesn't even really care. She never visits, even when she can."
"Yeah, I wish I could say I know how that is, but... My brother would probably force them to, even if they didn't care. But they do."
I shrug, not having anything to say at this point, and not wanting to cry as I felt like I would if I tried to speak again.
He looked at me sympathetically and I looked away, because I didn't want his pity. I didn't want anyone's pity. But that didn't change the fact that most people, even here, pitied me. I was almost sure for the longest time that Jenna was only my friend because she pitied me, but it turns out she really cared. I'm still sure it is that way with Tay. I don't need my own roommate to pity me.
"I know what you're thinking," Vic says.
"Oh really?" I say, my tone harsher than I meant it to be. "And what am I thinking?" I ask him, my voice quieter now.
"You're thinking that I pity you. But I don't. I just understand."
"Is that even possible? You have a brother who kept you alive, you have parents who care about you, who'll visit with you on Saturdays while I sit here in our room doing nothing," I know I shouldn't be so quick to judge, because maybe he really does know. Maybe they're like my mom. Maybe they're not. I wish I could say for sure. But I quite honestly have no idea what the fuck is going on. And I'm allowing small bits of my anger come forth, even though I know I shouldn't. He's done nothing wrong. It's just that I'm confused.
"It is possible. I didn't just get bored one day and decide to kill myself. I didn't have near as good a life as you might want to assume. But I'm sure you don't," he shrugs.
"I don't. And I'm sorry. I'm just pissed," I say.
"I know. And you have your rights to be," he replies quietly, and I know he's got a point. "And you don't have to be sorry. You really, honestly don't."
"But for you, someone kept you alive because they loved you, people are getting you help because they want you to get better. For me it's just because they wanted to look like a hero. Like a saint. My mom's not a saint. In fact, she's the opposite of that."
"I can tell. But trust me, my parents and my brother are practically the only ones who want me alive. School, I don't know if you knew, was hell. I'm sure you get that."
"Yeah. I was considered a freak. I couldn't..." I swallow hard, not wanting to bring up my self harming. No one here has ever seen my arms. No one here will. I don't want them to. I don't want him to.
"It's cool, I get it. Trust me. They're why I tried to commit suicide. I really do understand."
It's probably true. He probably does understand. But I don't get why he cares so much about how I feel.
"Just know that I don't pity you like everyone else. I just understand you," he shrugs.
"Okay," I mumble. I'm still trying to fight back tears, and I just want to be alone, but that doesn't seem likely anymore. I guess that's okay but I don't want him to see me cry.
"Do you want to talk about anything? Because I don't mind talking about what I did to get here, if you don't."
I shrug, "sure. I mean... Yeah." I can't deny that it'd be kind of nice to finally tell someone. And to get things off my chest. Not all of it, but at least some of it.
"I'll go first," he offers, and I can only nod. I don't quite know why he's so apt to tell me, a complete stranger, his story, but I guess it doesn't bother me too much. "So, basically, it was a Friday... A couple weeks ago. School had been particularly shitty that day, I spent most of it in the bathroom, crawling in there after I was pushed hard into a locker and thrown to the ground. I made it into a stall in enough time to throw up the entire contents of my stomach... Anyways, I then proceeded to curl up on the floor and not do anything. No one bothered to look for me, but I didn't expect them to. No one really cared that much. I went to sixth period and that was it, then I went home and locked myself in my room, downing a bottle of over the counter sleeping pills. Because that was all we had. And for good measure, I brought my blade in there with me and sliced up the length of my arm. I didn't, however, take into account the fact that my brother and I always hung out in my room after school on Fridays and he knocked on my door after all was said and done, and I was losing consciousness so I couldn't answer. He couldn't get through the door, so he kind of... Broke it? I think, I can't really remember, but I think so... Anyways, he called 911 and then my parents and, well... I don't want to recall anything that happened after that. But now I'm here."
I nod, knowing. My suicide attempt started in much the same way. "Yeah... I completely get that. In fact, my attempt was pretty similar. I spent most of my days in the bathroom at school. Once or twice that week, I think, I went to about three periods. Um... I think it was a Wednesday... About six months back now. I was walking down the hall, my head down because I didn't want anyone to see my face, because maybe if they didn't, they wouldn't want to fuck with me. Of course, I was wrong. One of the usual kids shoved me into a locker, throwing out the usual 'hey faggot' because for some reason they had it in their heads that I was a flaming homo. Anyways, that's beside the point. He then decided to bring up my friend, this having been about a week after she'd killed herself, so I was in no shape to be fucked with. I was devastated. That turned out to be the last straw. I stayed on the floor in that hall for half an hour after the tardy bell rang and then eventually crawled into the bathroom and stayed there for the rest of the day. I came home early, expecting that my mom wouldn't be home. So I... Well... I don't want to talk about it. But I will just say that my mom was home, she found me, and kept me from dying. Now I'm here. And she's been sainted for no real reason."
"People are honestly shitty, but we can't change what happened or what is now," he shrugs, but his brow furrows, "but... Flaming homo? Really?"
"Oh, no. It's not like that," I say, realizing that the way I said what I had was probably not the best. "That's just what they called me. I don't have a problem with people being gay. Not in the slightest."
He simply nods, "oh, okay. Good to know."
I don't really feel like talking anymore, so I just kind of nod at him. If nothing else, he deserves to know that I heard him. I really do want to be alone, but knowing how he feels about the people in here and how he thinks people like us gotta stick together, which isn't really wrong, I doubt I'll ever be alone again. I don't know why, but I don't necessarily feel like that will be a bad thing. I feel as though I might actually be able to handle him, like maybe we could actually be friends. Like maybe he'll know more about me than anyone ever has. I'm completely okay with that idea. But I don't know why. I don't tend to like most of the people who show up in here. I barely tolerate most of them for long enough to care about them for a little while. I care and then they're gone. There are only two people in here that's not true for. Jenna and Tay. But I still think they care more about me than I do them. Which isn't to say I don't care about them, because I do, but I'm no good at caring for people. No one ever gave me much reason for that.
I'm shaken from my reverie when I feel my bed shift. He sits back on his own bed, and I start to feel a little odd about him knowing so much about me already. This kid hasn't even been here twenty four hours and he already knows my story. Well. Some of it. I know some of his, too though. So I guess it's not too bad. It's what I'd call a fair trade, I suppose. But I honestly can't figure him out. None of this is making sense to me at all. None of it seems to be quite adding up when I try in my head. He's doing things I don't get. He's being way nicer than I foresee anyone being towards me. But I guess I'm more than tolerating him for some unknown reason.
I guess I'm doing things I don't get, either.
"You're not very talkative, are you?" He asks.
So observant, you are, I think. What I say, however, is something entirely different. "Well neither do you."
"Touché."
Credit where it's due, though, he does have a fair enough point. I'm not fond of talking. To anyone, really, if I'm being completely honest. But something tells me he's going to try to get more out of me than anyone else bothers to. Marisa included. I've never been so inclined to try to get to know someone, but some little part of me wants to get close to him. I want to know him and I want to let him into my fucked up little head.
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Vic and I emerge four hours later, since it's time for dinner, and I'm surprised to see that Tay's out of solitary.
"Oh wow," I mumble, half tempted to wander past them to another empty table as far away from them as possible. I don't want to deal with their shit because they're always as lovey dovey as possible when Tay first gets out. Which will still be easy for Jenna even though she's upset with her. This has all happened before, and Jenna always just brushes off whatever happened before she went in and everything goes back to the way it was before. Now, I may never have been in a relationship before, but I do know that doesn't make for a healthy foundation for one.
Vic looks over, "what?"
"Tay's out of solitary. And I don't think I want to deal with the two of them," I say.
"You don't technically have to," he shrugs as we get into the line for food.
I shoot one final glance in the direction of the two girls before looking back to him and sighing. "If the nurses saw me hanging off by myself and not helping you out and it got back to Marisa, she'd tear me a new one."
"Well, I didn't exactly plan on letting you sit completely alone," he replies, rolling his eyes.
"That might actually be worse, if I can be completely honest with you," I say, an unamused laugh spilling from my lips.
He nods, chewing his lower lip in thought, probably trying to find a way out of hanging with the girls more for his sake than my own. Which is cool, I don't blame him. "Well... What do you say we go over there and talk to them... Say you introduce me to Tay? But then we go somewhere else. Then technically you still did your job and you're off scot free."
I chew on my cheek as I get my food, looking back over to them and then to Vic. "Right. Technically I still did what I was supposed to if I introduce you to her. So I'll do that and then we'll leave."
"I'm honestly fine with that. I don't want to deal with people," he says.
"Follow my lead and we'll be out of that mess in no time," I say, taking my tray and wandering over to the table at which the (un)happy couple is sitting.
He simply follows silently behind me and stays there as we reach their table.
"Hi Jenna," I begin, "hey Tay. Good to have you back."
"Hey Kell," she says gently with a smile and Jenna just nods.
"Just wanted to introduce you to Vic," I say, and it's then that he steps out from behind me.
"Nice to meet you, Vic," Tay says.
Jenna hardly looks up but mumbles something unintelligible.
"What?" I ask.
"I want to apologize for earlier."
"Don't," Vic says, harshly. "I don't need it."
I look at him, but I completely understand where he's coming from. I don't even want to bother trying to stop him, because if he's upset, he has his rights. The same way everyone does. Though, it's true, I don't want to provoke Tay again, because I know she's very protective of Jenna, so I know for a fact that we should be leaving right about now.
"Okay... So... Anyways. Vic and I are gonna go now," I say picking up my tray and wandering off to an unoccupied table as far from the couple as I possibly can get.
"So, I understand you being pissed off and everything, but maybe be careful getting short with Jenna around Tay. She can get real mean real fast."
He nods, "I have to remember to keep my temper... I have a really short fuse and I guess I just snap sometimes and I really wish it wasn't that way. But I guess now was one of those times."
I simply shrug, "it's no big deal. If she gives you shit, I'll talk to her."
"Well I don't need protection... I just need to control my temper."
I shrug again, but I'm a little annoyed. He doesn't know the things I do about Tay, she can be a pretty big asshole and she's known for her violence, so he doesn't know what he's getting into with her. He's making an enemy he doesn't want, and if he won't let me tell him that, then he's going to get hurt.
"Just... Be careful around her..." I say quietly.
"I can handle myself, you know," Vic says, as if I were even remotely trying to say he needs me.
"I don't doubt that you can, but she's an asshole, and if you make enemies with her, you make an enemy you don't want, because she's more than just a little bit violent. Can you at least trust me on that?"
He nods, "I'll take that into account next time."
I nod, but I just want to sigh and shake my head at him. He shouldn't just be taking it into account. He should be trying to get along with her. For everyone's sake and for his own most of all. No one wants to deal with Tay in a bad mood and the last thing he needs is to end up in solitary because he gets the shit beat out of him by her. I actually like him, and I don't want to get rid of him.
"I feel like we're going to end up in a lot of arguments or disagreements at the very least. And I wouldn't be surprised," he says, shrugging.
"I'm willing to bet that you're not wrong, but that's beside the point."
"Well then what is the point?" He asks.
"Never mind that, it doesn't matter," I say, sighing as I pick at the food on my plate. I know I should eat it, because if I don't, I know the nurses will say something to the good ol' doctors and I'll be put on supervised meals. The last thing I need is someone to stare at me while I force myself to eat so they can put weight back on me. And the last thing I need is more weight on me. If I at least appease them by eating and then slipping off to the bathroom, I'll be okay. I just have to wait a reasonable amount of time to make it seem like a routine bathroom trip and not one to purge.
"You don't look like you want to eat," Vic observes as he takes a bite of his food.
"The food here is awful. And I'm not hungry," I say.
"Whatever... I guess it doesn't matter and it's certainly none of my business."
"It's not, but trust me. There's nothing good about this food and there's nothing extra that I'm not saying. It's just that this food gets worse the longer that you're here."
He shrugs, "I don't doubt that it does, but at the moment this is the first solid food I've had in about a week and for that reason alone, it's not bad. I'll leave it at that."
"I suppose that makes enough sense," I shrug.
"Of course it makes enough sense," he replies.
"Whatever. I'm not into this. So I'm going to pick at this for a little while longer and then I'm going to throw it away," I say quietly, looking down.
"So far it seems to me as if you're the only one who has problems with the food here. Are you sure you're just not into food in general?" He observes.
Unfortunately, he'd be right, but I wouldn't dream of telling him that. Why would I want to? Besides. It's none of his business. But now I'm just sitting here silently staring at him like an idiot, probably fairly easily proving his point. But whatever, it's still none of his business. I'll deal with it if he thinks he knows what I'm all about.
"You gonna speak, or...?" He raises his eyebrows at me, like he's expecting something.
"What should one say to an accusation of such? I don't have anything to say to that, honestly," I reply, though I'm lying and I'm sure he knows it.
He just sort of looks at me and sighs, shaking his head. "You're really thin, you know. You don't need to be as tough on yourself as you probably are. But that's none of my business, of course."
"Nope, it's not," I say, looking at him before finally actually taking a bite of the food that's been sitting in front of me for the past twenty minutes now.
He sighs and looks down, going back to his food.
The rest of dinner is silent and then it's to the meds line where we're all given our nightly meds and then we go to retrieve our toothbrushes, a system I've grown accustomed to since my arrival.
It's once we're back in our rooms before the nurses come around that he finally speaks again.
"I'm sorry... About earlier. I can be a real asshole and I know that," he says.
I simply shrug at him, "trust me. Worse has occurred than someone being an ass to me."
"I guess so, but I still feel bad about it," he says looking down. I simply pick at the sleeve of my hoodie, trying to avoid the inevitable. I'm going to have to change eventually and if it's in front of him, it's not going to be pretty for either of us. My arms look... Less than desirable, not that it's any of his business. Or anyone's for that matter, but once people see it, they act weird about it. I'm tired of that. I've had enough of that for probably the rest of my life. But I don't think it'll ever stop. If I get out of here, that is. Which I doubt greatly. I'm a little too fucked up and I've done a few too many things to be generally accepted in society. I'm too crazy to be allowed back outside. I think, for me at least, this was a one way ticket. Never to be released, never to live a normal life.
I'm honestly worried about what's going to come when someday I feel ready for release and it turns out that I'm not. I don't know how I'll handle that. You'd think I would, seeing as I've already dealt with that. But I was sure then that I wasn't ready to be let out. But maybe someday I won't feel that way.
I don't know why any of this matters to me as much as it does. It's not really a big deal, I guess... When you know you're crazy, why should it matter so much? I guess that technically it shouldn't. But it does to me.
"I've got to go to the bathroom," I say, stopping off at the closet to grab a change of clothes and another hoodie, which I grew used to sleeping without because Gerard didn't care. And then when I was alone, there was no one to care.
So the next few nights are going to be uncomfortable for me as I grow used to sleeping in hoodies again.
As I slip into the restroom, I think about when I first came here. How the therapists, nurses, doctors, all tried to get me to wear no hoodie. I always refused, they eventually got used to it and gave up trying. They decided it wasn't really worth it. They'd all seen it when I first arrived here, so what difference should it make if I wear a hoodie or not? They told me it was in order to get me 'not to care what people thought of my mistakes' except I did care and I always would. Not what others thought, but what I thought. It just added to my ugliness of which I had enough. I didn't need any help. Or anymore. Other people's eyes on my arms wouldn't have made life any easier. And the same is still true. It still wouldn't.
I know I shouldn't let it bother me, because I can't do anything to change my physical appearance. Especially now. I remove my hoodie and my t-shirt, making sure not to look in the mirror as I do.
I'm told I have a distorted sense of self image, which I suppose should make me feel better about how I perceive myself, however it really doesn't. Rather it just adds to the list of what's wrong with me. And it's not even on the list of things I can change about myself. Not even with therapy or medication. I'm what they call a "lifer" which means I'll be on medication for my whole life because what I have is too severe for me to be able to live a normal life without meds. Though at this point I'd think they'd rather just let me die since I'm not really leading a normal life on the medication either. In fact, I think I've tried to kill myself more often on the medication then I did when I was going untreated.
Maybe that's just a mental thing though.
As I exit the bathroom, Vic looks at me, confused. It's then I notice that I'm scowling.
"You okay?" He asks me.
"I'm fine," I say simply sitting on my bed, leaning against the headboard. I'm really just not in the mood to discuss it, so it's for that reason that I hope he doesn't ask any questions about the situation. Knowing him, however, I'm not going to get off so easily.
I shouldn't know that already. But regardless of that fact, I do know that and I feel as though I'm only going to learn further as time passes.
I can't exactly say that I feel as though I wish that weren't the case, but I don't know exactly what I do want from this.
I want to say I don't give a shit about him, but that's not true. I wish it were, and I wish I knew where I stood, but I don't have time to think about that as the nurse walks in.
"It's lights out, boys," she murmurs and I nod, turning off the lamp on the nightstand between his bed and mine, curling myself into a ball and laying down under the covers.
"Goodnight, Vic," I mumble before rolling over and closing my eyes, knowing good and well that I'm not going to find sleep easily.
"Goodnight, Kellin," he replies.