Post by Deleted on Nov 3, 2020 15:50:32 GMT -7
CW: Depression, suicide, substance abuse. This is mostly practise for me in describing a feeling so it's gonna hit hard if you're sensitive to that sort of thing.
Darkness.
Even when lookin at the light he could not see it. The mechanical clicking of his obsessive opening and closing of the small necklace he kept twirling in his hands as if it were a wishing star seemed to grow louder with each click. His eyes hurt and his fingers had started to feel raw from prying the locket open over and over again. Click. Open. Click. Close. Click. Open. Endlessly it seemed. He couldn't help but go on, for the sorrow of the day had long since paralysed his senses and taken hold. He knew better, but that had never stopped him before.
The light bulb almost seemed to flicker, although Gus could see the imprint on the inside of his eyelids. The shards of the shattered clock had fallen what could only be hours ago. The ticking of the clock had frayed his nerves as he'd desperately attempted to clutch the warm embrace of sleep and the empty darkness that she offered in order to escape. Sleep brought nightmares yet it seemed better than not even be able to consider escaping to them. He was so tired, yet he couldn't sleep.
They all claimed they cared. People said they were worried. Gus was too angry even in his sadness to believe them. In his mind they had long since forfeitted the right to care when they started gossiping about him behind his back. He too couldn't within his muddled mind find the capacity to say in honest that he could truly be concerned about those that he had spoken of behind their back. No, they had no right to care or worry. Not that it mattered at all. He was alone.
He'd tried to kill the pain of that solitude, but had only brought more pain to him. Even now he felt his isolation most keenly as he'd shut out the last few people that he thought would have cared. Now he'd lost it all. Click. He clenched his fist around the locket so tightly the metal attempted to bite into his skin to draw from him what he hadn't been willing to give.
All he wanted was to feel the will to live. To truly desire it and not bear it for the imagined belief that some might care if he were to leave this world. To not long more for the company of his deceased mother than the company of the living that were still with him. Click. It was all his fault of course.... He ran his fingers over the locket almost absently as the mental pain was so strong he could feel it not just in his soul but in his entire body as well. Click. It echoed in his mind over and over as he could almost feel his heart trying so hard to save him. To simply cease beating and fulfill that one wish in his soul.
He was beyond a doubt too tired to try anything real to mend the situation, yet his anger and frustration at his state of being infused him with a surge of power, energy that he'd long since spent but supposedly could tap into now. He was angry at himself, but even more so at nothing at all. He was too tired to endure all this. His eyes were drawn to the small bathroom in his apartment and he barely dragged himself out of bed, his feet stepping in the glass. The sting of pain that should have affected him was barely noted. He was too tired and all he wanted to do was sleep. Yet it seemed it was denied to him.
It didn't take long for him to find the bottle once he'd reached the bathroom. He'd been having issues sleeping for longer now. Everything had been falling apart for so long and the stress was too much. He hadn't been able to fulfill his ambitions to become an auror, he hadn't gotten the grades. While starting a company with his best friend had seemed like a good idea they barely got any good jobs. It was nothing but futile investigation into infidelity and parents that refused to care enough about their children to talk to them. To be complicit in starting wars between parents and children for spying on the younger ones had started to consume him, as had seeing all the darker aspects of life. He couldn't deal and had already told his partner and friend he was quitting effective immediately. It wasn't so busy that he'd get in trouble.
Nobody would miss him.
He kicked aside one of the many empty bottles of booze, one of the shards in his foot embedding itself there a little more. The pain was nothing but a numb reminder that there was nothing he'd miss here. He'd made sure of that. He'd long since been icing everybody out, Sienna included. She deserved to be with somebody that would be likely to actually build a life, rather than survive while hoping for the inevitable to hurry along. Night illuminated the darkness further. Pain and sorrow consumed everything they touched, even the most beautiful things and memories.
With a slight huff he opened the cabinet above the sink, absently grabbing the entire bottle of sleeping draught. All he needed was a good night sleep. Things would be equally terrible in the morning.
It was that single thought that stopped him in his tracks towards grabbing a spoon. It wasn't as if they'd get that much better. He felt the pressure of the pain increase, along with the pressure on his chest as his heart desperately seemed to try to end his suffering for him. In the end it would all be for the better. Just a spoon for a night of rest. Not that a night of rest would do him that much good. All he wanted to do was sleep.
He didn't actually care about waking up.
The potion seemed to have been losing effectiveness. He'd spent too much time of late tossing and turning as his endless mill of thoughts kept him awake and suffering through the nights. In what could only be described as a desperate impulse he uncapped the bottle, only hestitated for the shortest possible amount of time before bring it to his lips for a far larger drink that he was ever supposed to take. Almost dizzy with the idea of relief he stumbled back to his bed. He'd sent word to Sienna earlier that day, telling her about the death of his aunt. His last connection to his mother. They had been so alike. He felt another wave of pain and with the bottle in one hand he roared in anger and pain at the loss, sweeping all the bottles and other objects of his nightstand in one desperate sweep. Not today.
Crying, he sank to sit on his bed. He was tired and so deperate for the pain to end. There was still some left in the bottle. As easily as he downed a shot of whiskey most of the remaining content of the bottle disappeared down his throat in what he could only hope would be sweet relief. She hadn't shown up in the end. He just hoped that she wouldn't be the one to find him. Leave that to his useless father. The one moved on before their mother was even dead. He hadn't seen his brother in years. He wasn't even sure the man would recognise him in the state of disarray he was in now. Not that Aymeric was likely to even know his adress.
He felt dizzy and went to lie down, trying to set the bottle on the nightstand but it fell over with the motion. He couldn't be bothered to put it back upright. There was nothing of use left in there either way. He sighed. He wasn't sure how long he lied there, crying as he wished for the potion to kick in. It couldn't even have been half an hour before he felt the slow darkness start to creep up on him. His head rolled over to look toward the door where his salvation had supposed to come to save him, but all he saw was the bottle. He could feel himself slipping, almost sad but in part relieved.
As everything went dark he heard the sound of a key in the lock and the gentle footsteps that could only belong to one person. In the end he'd only needed one reason to hold on. Too bad the reason hadn't come sooner. For her he would change the world, but even that would never be enough. She'd be better off, even if it hurt her now. He'd miss her most of everybody. If he had to choose one single reason not to cease existing, it would be her. She alone was enough. He felt his hand slowly open as he sank away and the locket dropped from his grip. Maybe for the better. He'd clung to it for far too long after all.
;
Darkness.
Even when lookin at the light he could not see it. The mechanical clicking of his obsessive opening and closing of the small necklace he kept twirling in his hands as if it were a wishing star seemed to grow louder with each click. His eyes hurt and his fingers had started to feel raw from prying the locket open over and over again. Click. Open. Click. Close. Click. Open. Endlessly it seemed. He couldn't help but go on, for the sorrow of the day had long since paralysed his senses and taken hold. He knew better, but that had never stopped him before.
The light bulb almost seemed to flicker, although Gus could see the imprint on the inside of his eyelids. The shards of the shattered clock had fallen what could only be hours ago. The ticking of the clock had frayed his nerves as he'd desperately attempted to clutch the warm embrace of sleep and the empty darkness that she offered in order to escape. Sleep brought nightmares yet it seemed better than not even be able to consider escaping to them. He was so tired, yet he couldn't sleep.
They all claimed they cared. People said they were worried. Gus was too angry even in his sadness to believe them. In his mind they had long since forfeitted the right to care when they started gossiping about him behind his back. He too couldn't within his muddled mind find the capacity to say in honest that he could truly be concerned about those that he had spoken of behind their back. No, they had no right to care or worry. Not that it mattered at all. He was alone.
He'd tried to kill the pain of that solitude, but had only brought more pain to him. Even now he felt his isolation most keenly as he'd shut out the last few people that he thought would have cared. Now he'd lost it all. Click. He clenched his fist around the locket so tightly the metal attempted to bite into his skin to draw from him what he hadn't been willing to give.
All he wanted was to feel the will to live. To truly desire it and not bear it for the imagined belief that some might care if he were to leave this world. To not long more for the company of his deceased mother than the company of the living that were still with him. Click. It was all his fault of course.... He ran his fingers over the locket almost absently as the mental pain was so strong he could feel it not just in his soul but in his entire body as well. Click. It echoed in his mind over and over as he could almost feel his heart trying so hard to save him. To simply cease beating and fulfill that one wish in his soul.
He was beyond a doubt too tired to try anything real to mend the situation, yet his anger and frustration at his state of being infused him with a surge of power, energy that he'd long since spent but supposedly could tap into now. He was angry at himself, but even more so at nothing at all. He was too tired to endure all this. His eyes were drawn to the small bathroom in his apartment and he barely dragged himself out of bed, his feet stepping in the glass. The sting of pain that should have affected him was barely noted. He was too tired and all he wanted to do was sleep. Yet it seemed it was denied to him.
It didn't take long for him to find the bottle once he'd reached the bathroom. He'd been having issues sleeping for longer now. Everything had been falling apart for so long and the stress was too much. He hadn't been able to fulfill his ambitions to become an auror, he hadn't gotten the grades. While starting a company with his best friend had seemed like a good idea they barely got any good jobs. It was nothing but futile investigation into infidelity and parents that refused to care enough about their children to talk to them. To be complicit in starting wars between parents and children for spying on the younger ones had started to consume him, as had seeing all the darker aspects of life. He couldn't deal and had already told his partner and friend he was quitting effective immediately. It wasn't so busy that he'd get in trouble.
Nobody would miss him.
He kicked aside one of the many empty bottles of booze, one of the shards in his foot embedding itself there a little more. The pain was nothing but a numb reminder that there was nothing he'd miss here. He'd made sure of that. He'd long since been icing everybody out, Sienna included. She deserved to be with somebody that would be likely to actually build a life, rather than survive while hoping for the inevitable to hurry along. Night illuminated the darkness further. Pain and sorrow consumed everything they touched, even the most beautiful things and memories.
With a slight huff he opened the cabinet above the sink, absently grabbing the entire bottle of sleeping draught. All he needed was a good night sleep. Things would be equally terrible in the morning.
It was that single thought that stopped him in his tracks towards grabbing a spoon. It wasn't as if they'd get that much better. He felt the pressure of the pain increase, along with the pressure on his chest as his heart desperately seemed to try to end his suffering for him. In the end it would all be for the better. Just a spoon for a night of rest. Not that a night of rest would do him that much good. All he wanted to do was sleep.
He didn't actually care about waking up.
The potion seemed to have been losing effectiveness. He'd spent too much time of late tossing and turning as his endless mill of thoughts kept him awake and suffering through the nights. In what could only be described as a desperate impulse he uncapped the bottle, only hestitated for the shortest possible amount of time before bring it to his lips for a far larger drink that he was ever supposed to take. Almost dizzy with the idea of relief he stumbled back to his bed. He'd sent word to Sienna earlier that day, telling her about the death of his aunt. His last connection to his mother. They had been so alike. He felt another wave of pain and with the bottle in one hand he roared in anger and pain at the loss, sweeping all the bottles and other objects of his nightstand in one desperate sweep. Not today.
Crying, he sank to sit on his bed. He was tired and so deperate for the pain to end. There was still some left in the bottle. As easily as he downed a shot of whiskey most of the remaining content of the bottle disappeared down his throat in what he could only hope would be sweet relief. She hadn't shown up in the end. He just hoped that she wouldn't be the one to find him. Leave that to his useless father. The one moved on before their mother was even dead. He hadn't seen his brother in years. He wasn't even sure the man would recognise him in the state of disarray he was in now. Not that Aymeric was likely to even know his adress.
He felt dizzy and went to lie down, trying to set the bottle on the nightstand but it fell over with the motion. He couldn't be bothered to put it back upright. There was nothing of use left in there either way. He sighed. He wasn't sure how long he lied there, crying as he wished for the potion to kick in. It couldn't even have been half an hour before he felt the slow darkness start to creep up on him. His head rolled over to look toward the door where his salvation had supposed to come to save him, but all he saw was the bottle. He could feel himself slipping, almost sad but in part relieved.
As everything went dark he heard the sound of a key in the lock and the gentle footsteps that could only belong to one person. In the end he'd only needed one reason to hold on. Too bad the reason hadn't come sooner. For her he would change the world, but even that would never be enough. She'd be better off, even if it hurt her now. He'd miss her most of everybody. If he had to choose one single reason not to cease existing, it would be her. She alone was enough. He felt his hand slowly open as he sank away and the locket dropped from his grip. Maybe for the better. He'd clung to it for far too long after all.
