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***
Part 1
My scars itch.
Okay, so they're not exactly scars. They're at that awkward in-between
stage. No longer new wounds, but not completely healed, either. My head
knows that the itching means they're healing, that the skin so violently
sliced open is trying to knit itself back together. But it's driving me
crazy, and I want to rip the bandage off my arm and scratch until it bleeds
again.
I can't help but chuckle at that. "Driving" me crazy? I've been crazy for a
long time. Sometimes I wonder if I was ever sane, though I guess I must have
been, at some point. No one is born crazy, are they? Well, maybe they are.
Maybe I really never was sane. It would make sense. Sense. Like anything
about me made sense.
Oh, the damn itching! I look down at the bandage, and it takes all my
self-control to stop myself from ripping it off right then and there. Again,
I have to chuckle. Aren't I a funny guy? If I had any self-control, I
wouldn't have the cuts in the first place. And I wouldn't be sitting here on
the floor of this ridiculously opulent bathroom in one of Quatre's many
estates, about to do it again.
Yeah, do it again. That's right. I'm in this itchy predicament because I
sliced my arm open myself, on purpose, with the razor blade I am once again
holding in my hand. I stare at the blade, fascinated by its sharpness. I
study every facet of the edge, moving it back and forth to see how the
overhead light glints off the stainless steel. I let out a sigh, my heart
constricting in my chest. How did I ever get so fucked up?
My left hand absently rubs over the bandage on my right-upper arm, in a vain
attempt to banish the itch. Underneath the gauze and adhesive are four deep
slashes, maybe two inches long, and two days old. They are the result of
that blade running through my skin, parting it easily and cleanly with a
hiss of pain. It had been so fascinating to watch the blood well up, forming
dark red beads where the blade had cut deepest. How comforting the chill
that ran down my spine when I brought my lips to the cuts and licked that
blood away, tasting it on my lips. My blood. My blood that I had spilled.
The cuts were deep, deep enough that they probably should have had stitches.
But how to explain them to Quatre's medical officer? No, I had just bandaged
them up myself, like I always did, using the first aid kit I'd found under
the bathroom counter. They would scar horribly, new bright pink skin filling
in the gaping slits, but I am no stranger to scars.
No, no stranger to scars. I look down from the razor blade to look at my
body. I'm clad only in boxers. It's the middle of the night, after all. I
should be in my room, sleeping. But instead I'm sitting on the bathroom
floor, surveying the roadmap of scars that is my skin. They begin on my
skinny thighs. Angry red lines that stand out boldly against the pale skin.
Some long, some short, some thin lines, others wide and gaping, where the
skin had been so efficiently parted that it had been unable to knit itself
back together, forced instead to fill in the slit. Like the new ones on my
arm. Dozens of scars, covering both thighs, disappearing up under the line
of my boxer legs. Some were years old, and fairly faded, others had been
there for only a few weeks.
My gaze travels upward, to my arms. Again, dozens of lines marred the pale
skin. I examine each forearm, running a finger along the lines. For some
reason, the scars here seem to fade faster than those on my thighs, and
though most are not as old, some of the oldest are barely visible. Finally
my eyes move up to where the scars are the worst. My upper arms. The left
one was completely covered in long, horizontal lines. Most were thick, where
the cuts had gaped from being so deep. Again I trace a finger along the
lines, marveling at how sensitive they feel, even the older ones. My left
upper arm is not nearly so covered, but the white bandage there was proof
that that would not remain true for long.
I sigh and lean back against the cupboard, the handle digging into my back,
but I don't move. I bring the blade up and look at it again. Why? Why?
WHY??? The question swirls in my brain, and remains unanswered, as usual.
All I know is the need I feel to see my blood flow, to taste in on my lips,
to feel that hiss of pain. I bring my left arm up and gaze at the marred
skin. Gently, I lay the edge of the blade against the forearm, tantalizingly
close to my wrist. I press down, and feel the blade begin to sink into my
flesh. I begin to draw the blade down, closing my eyes and relishing the
small sparks of aching pain. The blade travels slowly, agonizingly, for
maybe two inches, and then I stop. I open my eyes and look down. Blood is
beading along the cut, thick and dark red. I bring my arm to my mouth and
lick the wound, savouring the salty taste. I sit like that for awhile, my
eyes transfixed on the cut, licking it as the precious red beads form. But
all too soon they taper off and then stop altogether, leaving only the
shining red slit that has begun to sting and ache.
I am about to bring the blade to my skin again when suddenly there is a
knock on the bathroom door, bringing me out of my transfixed state with a
start.
"Duo? Is that you in there? Are you okay? It's four in the morning!"
Quatre's voice, laden with concern, travels through the door.
Shit.
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***
Part 3
I walked into the dining room and saw my four fellow ex-gundam pilots
already eating breakfast. They were seated around the large oak table,
helping themselves to the pancakes heaped on a serving platter. I paused for
a moment in the doorway, just looking at them. Quatre was talking animatedly
with Trowa, who listened attentively and nodded every now and then. I noted
the closeness of their chairs, and how Quatre's body almost seemed to lean
into Trowa's. I had been so relieved when they finally got together. Living
with a war and the repressed sexual tension between two of your comrades
was not fun, believe me. Heero and Wufei were chatting with each other as
well, and Heero even laughed at something Wufei said. They'd both loosened
up so much in the six months since the war had ended. It was amazing,
really.
The changes weren't just in behaviour, either. They'd all grown another
couple of inches, gained a little weight, and lost that war-weary look. Only
I was still a shrimp. Not only had I not grown a single millimeter, but, as
I mentioned before, I had actually lost weight. Next to them I must have
looked positively unhealthy. That was certainly the message I'd seen
reflected in their eyes when I'd arrived here yesterday and they'd seen me
for the first time since shortly after the war ended.
It was strange. I trusted these four guys with my life, had fought in battle
with them and risked death with them. I knew we shared a bond of common
experience that was pretty special, which was why Quatre was so insistent
that we stay in touch. But at that moment, standing just outside the room
and looking in at them, I was overwhelmed with such a feeling of isolation
that I shuddered in an effort to brush it off.
Plastering what I hoped was a convincingly cheery smile on my face, I
entered the room and took the empty seat to Quatre's left. "Hey! What's up
guys? Any big plans for the day?" I exclaimed, infusing my voice with as
much feeling as possible. The pills I'd taken had barely even begun to kick
in, so it wasn't a whole lot.
I was unnerved by the sudden silence as all conversation ceased and the four
of them turned to look at me. They had the oddest looks in their eyes.
Confusion? Curiosity? Maybe… concern? My mind quickly dismissed that. They
were probably just not used to my "cheerfulness" after being apart for so
long, that was all. I fidgeted in my seat and reached for the serving
platter, helping myself to some pancakes.
After what seemed like an eternity but was actually only a moment, Quatre
broke the silence. "Well, there's nothing really specific planned for the
day. I thought maybe we could drive into town and go shopping. This
afternoon some more people are going to come, and we're having kind've a
party tonight. Doesn't that sound fun?"
"Yeah, Q-man, sounds awesome! Who else is coming?" I asked as I mechanically
shoveled a forkful of pancake into my mouth. Finally, I was starting to feel
the effects of those pills, so there was actually some excitement in my
voice. I had to force myself not to grimace as I chewed the pancakes,
though. They were good and everything, but I've had little to no appetite
for a long time now, and those pills only made it worse. Eating was the last
thing I felt like doing right now, but I knew it would've looked weird if
I'd passed up breakfast.
"Well," Quatre continued, "Relena and Noin are coming, and Catherine, and so
is Sally Po. Oh, and I asked Hilde to come. She's really looking forward to
seeing you, since it's been so long."
"Wow, that's great man," I said before shoveling more food in my mouth. Just
a little more and I could feign being full. It really would be nice to see
Hilde again. I hadn't seen her since her recovery from the injuries she'd
suffered in the last battle, and she'd been great company when I'd had to
hide out on L2 during the war.
Whoa, I was really starting to feel the effects of those pills now. Energy
was starting to hum along my nerves, and I unconsciously started fidgeting,
my left foot tapping on the floor. The silence from the others was starting
to get to me, too. I had to say something.
"So, uh, what have you guys been up to the last six months, huh? Anything
interesting?" I asked, and then winced internally. My voice was a little
louder than it had to be. I studiously ignored Quatre's inquisitive look.
The rest of breakfast was torture. I listened to Heero talk about his work
with Relena's security team, Wufei describe how he was helping out with an
organization that aided war refugees, Quatre discuss the various charitable
foundations the Winner Corporation was in the process of setting up, and
Trowa relate how well the circus was doing. It's not that I wasn't
interested, I was. I even dominated the conversation with my comments,
questions, and wisecracks. But I could feel the blood rushing in my ears,
and my heart was beating so damned fast because of those pills. I even felt
it miss a beat here and there, a most unpleasant sensation. And it was
depressing hearing how well they were all doing. I was happy for them, of
course, but I felt so damn pathetic and useless in comparison.
Finally, it was over. We agreed to meet in the foyer in an hour to go into
town to get supplies for the get-together that night, and then went out
separate ways. I just barely managed not to run as I fled to the upstairs
bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face and stared at my reflection in
the mirror. My eyes were wide and round, the pupils dilated. I took several
deep breaths. My heart was still beating too fast. My head was practically
swimming, and I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin. Damn it,
Maxwell, you're high! I thought to myself. How could the others not have
noticed? They would have said something if they had, right?
I stepped back from the mirror and leaned against the wall, my rapidly
beating heart constricting painfully in my chest. I had to swallow back
tears that were suddenly threatening to spill out. Why would they have
noticed? They've never noticed anything about me before. They always readily
accepted the clown, the joker I pretended to be, and they never looked any
further. We shared the bond of being gundam pilots, but they didn't know
me, the real me. And they probably didn't care to. I couldn't really blame
them, either. Who would want to?
A little voice at the back of my brain told me that I've never really given
them a chance to know the real me, and I can't deny the truth of that. I
sighed and banged my head back against the wall, hard enough that I saw
black spots for a moment. Why am I so stupid? Any smart person would open
up, and share with the people who supposedly cared about them. But I'd die
before I told anyone about how I felt, and what I did. I'd die if anyone
ever found out on their own. The very thought of someone knowing that
about me was enough to make me weak in the knees. And I couldn't make myself
believe that the others would care. In fact, I was sure that they would be
horrified, disgusted, and repulsed. How could they not be, when I was
horrified, disgusted, and repulsed by the fact that I mutilated my own skin?
No, no one could ever know.
I shuddered, the familiar self-hatred coiling in my stomach. I had to do
something. I couldn't just stand there anymore. I found myself reaching for
the toiletry bag on the counter, for the razor blade case inside. My hand
was trembling, but whether it was from the energy pills or something else, I
couldn't say. I stared at the blade with grim acceptance for a moment before
pulling up my left shirtsleeve. I placed the blade against the pale skin,
practically at the crook of my elbow. I drew a shaky breath and then pressed
it into my skin, the pain sharp and sudden as the blade cut deep. I began to
draw the blade through the flesh, slowly, agonizingly, my eyes going foggy
from the pain. Finally I stopped and looked down. I felt my stomach turn in
on itself. The cut was deep, very deep. Blood was running down my arm in
glistening dark red rivulets, and as I watched it started to drip onto the
tile floor. I hastily brought the cut up to my lips, lapping at it with my
tongue to stop the flow. The taste sent a chill down my spine. Suddenly I
felt faint and I sat down hard on the floor, tongue still licking the flow
of blood. I sat like that a moment, until it registered that the cut wasn't
bleeding as much. I numbly reached out and grabbed a handful of toilet
paper, placing it over the cut and applying pressure
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***
Part 4
I felt sick to my stomach. I don't know if it was because of the pills, or
because I forced myself to eat those pancakes, or because of what I was
feeling. Maybe it was all three. I just sat there and let my mind wander as
I stared, transfixed, at the drops of blood on the floor. My blood. My blood
that I had spilled. As my mind continued to drift, I found myself thinking
back on the time that I had come closest to letting my guard down, and
telling someone the truth....
***************************************************
I slouched into the dorm room Heero and I were sharing and threw my bag down
on the floor in a huff. I flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. It
had been an incredibly bad day. I heaved a world-weary sigh and rubbed my
face with both hands. I was not going to cry. Boys don't cry, especially
not over something as pathetic as a "bad day." I couldn't even put my finger
on any one thing that had me in such a state. It just seemed to be
everything and nothing. I had moved through the day on autopilot, feeling
unbelievably disconnected from the people around me. And it wasn't just
because of the glaringly obvious fact that I was an undercover gundam pilot.
As I looked around at the other students, listening to their inane chatter,
I got the distinct impression that I would have felt isolated from these
people even if I had been just another so-called "normal" student.
Everything was just weighing on me. I felt like I was drowning. I felt
empty, alone, scared.... I was feeling so many things that I just couldn't
explain. Sometimes I wondered why I didn't just explode. It was all just too
much, and I couldn't even say for sure what "all" was.
I looked at my forearms. There was a scattering of long pink scars on the
white skin. My own handiwork. In my opinion, there were more there than
could easily be explained away as accidental scratches, but apparently no
one else thought so, since no one had ever asked about them. It was only
recently that I had started cutting there, in a place that was so visible,
and I had continued to wear my shirtsleeves rolled up, almost daring anyone
to ask, to care. But no one did. Sometimes I thought I'd give anything just
to have someone ask me if I was okay and mean it, so that I could spill
everything. Most of the time, though, I was terrified of anyone finding out.
My chest felt so tight, filled with inexplicable pain. My left food was
tapping rapidly against the mattress, a nervous gesture that reflected how
restless I was. With another world-weary sigh, I sat up, and then nearly
fell off the bed in fright when I saw Heero sitting at his desk. He had
apparently been there the whole time, his attention completely focused on
the textbook he was reading.
He must have heard me come in. Why hadn't he said anything? I thought my
actions had spoken pretty loudly about me being in a less-than happy mood.
He could at least have asked if I was okay. I thought back to my musings of
only a moment before, and suddenly I desperately wanted him to ask me that
question, wanted to spill my guts to him as I had never spilled my guts
before. First, I had to break the silence.
"Hey, Heero, didn't see you sitting there. You studying?" I asked in a
near-monotone, purposely leaving out the false joviality I usually
projected. Ask me, Heero. I silently begged. Ask me if I'm okay.
"Hn," he said. Okay, so he wasn't going to make this easy. I got to my feet
and went to stand just behind him and a little to his left, looking over his
shoulder.
"Trigonometry, huh? Got a test or something?" Not exactly sparkling
conversation, but that was the message I was trying to convey, after all.
That something was wrong. Ask me, Heero. Please, for the love of God, ask
me.
"Hn," he said again. I had to resist the urge to shake him. I was in pain
here, how could he not notice? Sure, I still acted the clown for the most
part, but for weeks, months even, the mask had been faltering, cracking,
becoming more and more transparent. At least I thought so. It had gotten
to the point that I honestly didn't know how even a complete stranger could
look at me and not immediately know that something was seriously wrong. But
here was this guy who spend a lot of time with me and was supposedly maybe
even a friend, and he didn't seem to have a clue! Was he really that blind?
Or maybe he just didn't care, was that it?
Frustration and pain that had been building up for a long time came roaring
to the service. I rubbed my hands together to keep them from shaking. That
was it. I had to tell him, someone, anyone! I couldn't go on like this. It
was too hard. He was my friend, wasn't he? He would care, right?
Drawing a shaky breath, I opened my mouth for the third time: "Heero, I -"
He suddenly turned in the chair, eyes ablaze with fury, cutting me off.
"Damnit, Duo! Do you want something? Otherwise could you just shut up! I
have a lot of work to do and your chatter is distracting me!" he snapped.
My eyes went wide as saucers as he glared at me. He clearly wasn't
interested in anything I had to say. My resolve disappeared. "N-no, Heero,
I don't need anything." Satisfied, he turned back to his book. I just stood
there for a moment, feeling stunned. But I quickly started to fidget again.
Suddenly, I had to be anywhere but here, and I was feeling a very familiar
need. Grabbing the little travel shaving kit that held my razor blades, I
gave Heero one last sad look and then made a beeline for the bathroom.
***************************************************
I gave my head a slight shake, bringing myself back to the present. Crap!
The time! I looked at my watch. I had to meet the others in less than ten
minutes and I was sitting on the bathroom floor, holding a wad of toilet
paper to the deep cut I had just inflicted on my arm, and reminiscing on
painful memories from the past. I shook my head again, and tried to focus
on the situation at hand.
First, I lifted the blood-soaked tissue and examined the gash. Damn, it was
deep enough to require stitches. That just wasn't going to happen, so a
bandage would have to do. I shifted away from the cupboard door enough so
that I could swing it open and grab the first aid kit. It was awkward
bandaging the cut with only one hand, but I'd had lots of practice and
managed to get it done pretty quickly. I then hurriedly mopped up the few
drops of blood on the floor and put away the razor blade. Last of all, I
took stock of myself in the mirror. I still looked and felt pretty high, but
the others hadn't noticed before so it was unlikely that they would now.
Experience had taught me that I was the clown to them and nothing but. I was
dismayed to see that my hands were shaking, but hopefully no one would
notice that either. Plastering my grin on, I ran downstairs to meet them.
They were all waiting for me in the foyer, Wufei and Heero looking pretty
annoyed at my lateness. Quatre and Trowa seemed too wrapped up in each other
to care, though. We piled into one of Quatre's vans, Heero taking the wheel.
The trip into town for party supplies was pretty uneventful. I let the
energy pills do their work, chattering incessantly about everything under
the sun without really saying anything at all. Even Wufei's mutterings and
Heero's death glares couldn't shut me up. Okay, so maybe they hadn't changed
all that much. The whole time, though, I could feel the sharp sting from
my fresh cut, and I would often unconsciously pat it with my hand, as if
confirming to myself that it was really there and not just a figment of my
imagination. Maybe I was doing it because I didn't really feel as if I was
there, like maybe I wasn't a real person, and the pain proved that I was.
Weird.
I was a bit more subdued on the trip back out to Quatre's estate. I could
finally feel the effects of the pills winding down. They were intense, but
they didn't last for very long. We had finally finished bringing in the last
of the stuff we'd bought when another van pulled up to the front gates.
"Oh, great!" Quatre exclaimed. "The others must be here!"
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***
Part 5
I quickly quelled a flash of panic. Crap! With the effect of the energy
pills fading, it was becoming harder and harder to keep up my "normal"
façade of the happy-go-lucky joker. It was only going to get harder with
more people around. Suddenly I became aware of my new cuts itching again,
both the one from earlier today, and the ones from a couple of days ago.
Absently, I started to rub the bandage on my upper-right arm through my
shirt as I watched the people start to pour out of the van.
Relena and Noin were the first off the van, giggling like schoolgirls. I
raised an eyebrow, wondering what was up with them. They didn't usually act
like that. They were followed by Catherine, Sally, and finally Hilde. As
soon as she saw she me she ran over and threw her arms around me, and I
returned the hug. Quatre used to tease me about Hilde and I being an item or
something, but it was never like that between us. We were just good friends,
and it really had been too long since I'd seen her, almost six months. I
wasn't sure why I hadn't made the trip out to see her in all that time. She
lived on the neighbouring L2 satellite to mine. I guess I'd been avoiding
her, just like I'd been avoiding everyone else.
Suddenly, she pulled back, holding me at arms' length, and really looked at
me. A frown creased her delicate features.
"Duo? Are you sick or something? You're so thin! And you look like shit run
over twice!" she exclaimed, her voice dripping with worry. I blushed
furiously. That's Hilde, blunt and to the point. I blushed even more as I
realized that all the other conversations and greetings going on around us
had fallen silent, and everyone was looking intently at us.
"I-I'm fine, Hilde. It's nothing," I stammered, uncharacteristically (at
least to them) at a loss for words. Her frown deepened.
"Like hell, you're fine, Duo. Something's obviously wrong. You never weighed
much to begin with, but now you're nothing but skin and bones. And you're so
pale, like you haven't seen the sun in weeks," she retorted. Right about
then, I was wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole. I
squirmed under everyone's scrutiny. Suddenly it seemed hard to breathe, I
felt so trapped. Unconsciously I rubbed at the bandage under my shirt again,
as my eyes flicked nervously from Hilde to the others and back again. I was
about to open my mouth and say something, anything, to end the awkward
silence, but Hilde beat me to it.
"Fine," she said in a voice that signified that this was anything but over.
"We'll talk later." She must have realized that this was hardly the time or
place for this. Her face softened, and she pulled me back into a tight
embrace. "I really have missed you, you know," she murmured in my ear.
I hugged her back, tightly, wincing slightly at the pain that it caused my
latest cuts. "I know. I've missed you, too," I murmured in response. Slowly,
the conversations started up around us again, though a bit more subdued than
they'd been a moment earlier. I was exceedingly glad that the moment had
passed. But I knew with a sinking feeling that sooner or later Hilde was
going to demand answers. I had no idea what to tell her. No one had ever
really asked before.
After all of the girls' bags were brought in and they were shown to their
respective rooms, we all went to the dining room for supper. The meal was
pretty much a blur to me. I really wasn't used to being around so many
people. I had to admit to myself that I'd become sort've a hermit over the
last six months. The earlier energy pill-induced giddiness was all but gone,
and I was still reeling from the incident with Hilde earlier, so it was
quite a struggle to be cheerful and chatty, like I was supposed to be. Maybe
it was just my imagination, but it seemed to me that I was getting a lot of
funny looks from people, which was making me nervous. And I know for sure
that Hilde kept shooting me worried glances. It was all giving me one bitch
of a headache.
I tried to shake it off, and concentrate on the conversations around me,
mindful of making wisecracking remarks wherever I thought they would be
expected of me. Everyone was talking animatedly, clearly happy at the chance
to get caught up. Relena, of course, was very busy with her work as
Vice-Foreign Minister. Noin was the head of her security team. The two of
them kept looking at each other and giggling, like they were sharing a
secret. Catherine was now part-owner of her circus, and was greatly enjoying
the business end of the organization, as well as continuing with her
knife-throwing act. She proudly announced that when the ringmaster retired
in a couple of years, he would be handing over the entire business to her.
Sally was working with a refugee-aid society which was located, surprisingly
enough, on the same L2 satellite on which I'd been living for the past six
months. I hadn't even known. Hilde had started taking college courses. As
the other former pilots filled in the girls'on what they'd been up to, I
deftly avoided talking about what I'd been doing, just as I had when we'd
been talking about the same thing over breakfast. Once again, my evasiveness
raised a few eyebrows, but nobody pushed the matter.
Finally, dinner was over. Quatre announced that everyone should go freshen
up, and that the party would start in the "casual" living room (as opposed
to one of the "formal" living rooms, or which there were several - rich
people are funny that way) well, whenever everyone showed up there. I seized
the opportunity to flee upstairs, much as I had after breakfast that
morning. This time I headed for my room, shutting the door behind me and
leaning back against it with a sigh of relief. Maybe coming here had been a
mistake. I had had my doubts when Quatre had first invited me, a couple of
weeks ago, but had finally given in. I did miss everyone, after all. But it
was becoming increasingly clear to me why I had been unconsciously avoiding
them. I was in no condition to be pretending that everything was okay, when
it most definitely was not. I was just not up to this, any of it.
And it was starting to look as if the others were suspicious. It was obvious
in Hilde's case, but the others were worrying me, too. Though there were
times when I would have given anything for someone to notice, to see past
the mask, to see ME, the real me, and care, most of the time I was still
scared. Scared and ashamed. Man, they'd all been so oblivious during the
war! I walked around with my sleeves rolled up, cuts perfectly visible on my
forearms, and no one said a thing. I relentlessly played the joker, thinking
to myself the entire time that it was a ridiculously transparent façade,
that anyone would see through in a second, but apparently I was wrong. They
all took the joker at face value. It had hurt, badly, that none of them
seemed to care enough to look beyond the surface. But I had learned to more
or less accept it (hadn't I?), and all of this… this concern was freaking
me out. And no one besides Hilde had even said anything yet!
Shit, what was I going to do about Hilde? A small voice in the back of my
head told me that I should do the smart thing when she finally confronted me
and demanded answers: tell her the truth. Tell her all about the pain, the
misery, the unbearable emptiness and loneliness. All about the inexplicable
and undeniable need to try and get those feelings out, somehow, anyhow.
All about how I hurt myself, mostly by cutting, but also by hitting, and
on one memorable occasion, by burning my leg with a cigarette. All about how
I can't explain why I did that, even to myself. All about the disgust and
shame I felt, knowing I did those things to myself. God, the list of things
I could tell her about was endless. But I couldn't do it. I knew I
couldn't do it. I was too afraid. Afraid of the disgust I was sure she'd
feel for me, if she knew all my darkest secrets. The disgust anyone would
rightfully feel, knowing those things.
And how the hell was I going to make it through that damned party tonight?
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***
Part 6
Damn, the party. It was going to be torture. Briefly, I considered weaseling
out of it by claiming sickness or something, but that idea was quickly
dismissed as being way too suspicious. God, I shouldn't have come.
Well, there was no getting out of it, so I figured that I may as well hurry
up and get ready so that I could go back downstairs before Hilde managed to
confront me alone somewhere. I remembered that I needed a shower badly, so I
stripped off my clothes, threw on my robe, grabbed my shampoo and
conditioner out of my bag, and ducked down the hallway to the bathroom.
Thankfully, I didn't run into anyone on the way.
Once I was safely in the bathroom, I let out a sigh of relief. I turned on
the water in the shower and then turned around and took off the robe,
catching sight of myself in the mirror. I wanted to avert my eyes, but my
gaze was strangely transfixed for a few moments, staring with a combination
of disgust and wonder at the roadmap of scars on my skin. No matter how many
times I saw them, they still took my breath away. They still shocked me. I
could not understand how I could have done such a thing to myself. Why I
continued to do it. With slightly trembling fingers I removed the two
bandages on my arms, grimacing at how awful my most recent cuts look. Those
on my right upper arm from a couple of days ago looked particularly bad, the
gaps where the skin was cruelly parted filled with pus, the process of
filling in the gaps with scar tissue well under way. God, they itched so
badly. The cut on my left forearm, near the crook of my elbow, was much
fresher, done only this morning. It was still red and sharply stinging, and
frightening in its depth. It had bled a lot, the bandage caked through with
dried blood.
Cursing myself under my breath, I turned away from the mirror and got in the
shower. I hissed as the water made the cuts sting. I took my time showering,
hoping the deliciously warm water would prove to be comforting and relaxing
as well, but it was in vain. I was just too keyed up. Sighing, I finally
turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, dreading facing my
reflection in the mirror again. I was surprised to see that I'd been in the
shower for as long as half an hour, so I hurried to finish getting ready,
drying and braiding my hair, and carefully putting fresh bandages over my
cuts before throwing my robe on and returning to my room to get dressed.
After I'd pulled on yet another pair of black pants paired with a
long-sleeved black shirt with minister's collar, I stood indecisively in my
room for a moment. I still didn't feel up to a party. They'd all expect me
to be playing the clown big time. I eyed my bag that held my bottle of
Ener-G pills, but I decided against taking any more. The effect from the
ones I'd taken this morning may have worn off, but my heart was still giving
a little lurch now and then. Oh, well. I figured I'd just have to rely on
alcohol. A lot of alcohol. It was a good thing Quatre had bought so much for
the party when we'd gone into town earlier. Sighing resolutely, I turned to
leave the room.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when I opened the door to find Hilde standing
there, about to knock. She jumped as well.
"Oh! Duo, you startled me. Listen, I was hoping we could talk before -" she
began, but I cut her off quickly, my mind racing.
"There's no time to talk now. There's a party to get to! Come on, you don't
want them to start without us, do you?" With that, I brushed past her and
hurried down the hall, not giving her a chance to respond. I heard her
trailing behind me.
"But, Duo, this is important -" she started again, rushing to catch up to
me. I didn't slow down, and I called back to her over my shoulder, cutting
her off again.
"It can wait! Tonight's for having fun," I said with a joviality I didn't
feel. I heard her exasperated sigh, and felt a pang of guilt, but what could
I do? I couldn't talk to her now, if ever. She didn't say anything else,
following me downstairs to the room where the party was being held.
As we entered the large wood-paneled room I noted with surprise that we were
the last to get there. I must have taken even longer getting ready than I'd
thought. The others were standing around in little groups, chatting. I took
in the large, self-serve bar at the end of the room appreciatively. God, was
I going to need it. When Relena saw us walk into the room she beamed.
"Oh, great! Everyone's finally here! Before things get underway, could I
have everyone's attention for a moment? Noin and I have an, ah, announcement
to make," she giggled. Silence fell over the room as everyone turned their
attention on Relena. Noin went up to stand next to her, and I blinked in
surprise when they linked hands.
"Noin and I are... engaged. We wanted all of you to be the first to know,
since you mean so much to us." Relena announced, a gleam of happiness in her
eyes.
The room was locked into stunned silence for a moment, but then exploded in
a chorus of cheers and exclamations as people rushed forward to hug and
congratulate the happy couple. I blinked back my own surprise as a smile
crossed my face. So that's why they'd been giggling and carrying on like
schoolgirls since they'd gotten here. I really was happy for them. They were
obviously ecstatic together. My smile faded as I bit back a loneliness than
ran so deep I swear it ached in my bones. Okay, time for a drink.
"This calls for a toast!" I yelled with forced cheerfulness, capturing
everyone's attention. They all agreed, and we moved to the bar, and soon
everyone was holding a glass of champagne. I raised my glass to the air. "To
the happy couple, who so successfully hid their relationship from all of us,
and managed to take us completely by surprise!" Everyone laughed. "May you
have a long and happy life together!" With that, everyone took a sip from
their glass. Except for me. I downed the whole glass in one shot, much to
everyone's amusement. I resisted the sudden urge to toss the fluted glass
over my shoulder, and instead I set it back down on the bar.
"Okay, let's get this party started! Where's the music?" I called, making my
way over to the massive stereo system. I heard more chuckling behind me.
Yup, no problem here. Just me being the crazy party animal everyone
expected. I rifled through the stacks of CDs, looking for something that
both matched my mood and would be appropriate for a party. Finally I shoved
on an old 20th century band called Limp Bizkit. It was nice and loud for a
party, but also appropriately angsty. After cranking the volume I returned
to the bar.
I poured myself a shot of tequila and threw it back in one smooth motion,
then I poured another and threw it back as well, though the first one was
still burning a path down my throat. The plan was to start out fast and then
coast through the rest of the evening. I had just poured another when Hilde
suddenly appeared at my side. I eyed her warily before forcing a smile. She
returned my gaze steadily before picking up a shot glass and indicating that
I should fill it, so I did. We threw the shots back together. I let my eyes
roam over the others. Most were still sipping on their first glass of
champagne. Quatre, Trowa and Catherine were already on the dance floor,
Quatre and Trowa moving closely together, with Catherine dancing with them,
but a little ways apart (1), smiling at them indulgently. The rest of them
had taken their drinks and gone over to the little sitting area to talk,
though I supposed they were shouting to hear each other over the music.
Finally, Hilde broke the silence between us as I poured my fourth shot.
"You aren't wasting anytime getting plastered are you?" she asked, even as
she held out her glass for a refill. Again, we threw back the shots in
unison. The tequila was filling my stomach with a decidedly pleasant warmth,
and I could feel it starting to work it's magic on my brain. I shrugged at
her.
"It's a party," I replied, grinning. "You're supposed to have fun." Her
expression remained unreadable. Damn, she was making me uncomfortable. I
absently rubbed the bandage on my arm through my shirt. It was itching
again. Suppressing a scowl, I turned away from her and helped myself to yet
another shot.
"Yeah, well the party's barely started and you've already had six drinks,"
she commented dryly. Ignoring her, I grabbed the vodka bottle and filled a
tall glass halfway, and then topped it off with coke. I took a long drink
from it, savouring the burning sensation down my throat, even as I winced
from how strong it was. I closed my eyes and felt the warmth spreading
through my body, the numbness beginning to envelop me as the alcohol hit my
bloodstream and traveled to my brain. Oh yeah, getting absolutely wasted was
exactly what I needed right now.
Suddenly I became aware that one of my favourite Limp Bizkit songs had come
on, "Nookie." Taking my glass with me, I grabbed Hilde's hand and hauled her
out to the dance floor. Grinning like a maniac, I began to dance wildly to
the music, periodically taking drinks from my glass. I could see that Hilde
was still concerned, but she began to loosen up a little, dancing with me,
and even laughing when I would make a face at her, or when I would mimic
being a guitar player. I even sang along to the chorus, eliciting laughs
from everyone in the room. As drunk as I was getting already, it wasn't too
hard to play the clown for them.
As the night progressed, I remained the life of the party, periodically
singing along and carrying on like a madman. Most of the others were getting
pretty tipsy, but I don't think any of them were even coming close to
approaching the levels of drunkenness I was reaching. And I was still
throwing them back. I kept the loud, angsty music going on the stereo, and I
danced wildly, stopping only for trips to the bar to refresh my drink. None
of the others had my stamina. They're was always at least a couple of them
sitting off to the side, taking a rest. I kept playing the clown, randomly
pulling other dancers into my embrace and grinding with them. I'll never
forget how Heero blushed and pulled away when I pulled that with him! Mostly
people took it in stride, laughing along. I was only doing what was
expected, after all.
At one point, late in the night, I stumbled over to the bar for a tequila
shot. I was so drunk that my whole body felt numb. The room was spinning
crazily, and for the past little while it had become quite the struggle to
remain upright while dancing. Hilde joined me at the bar, frowning.
"Hhhheyyy, Hilde," I slurred, "Having fun?" I mentally kicked myself. I
couldn't believe how drunk I sounded! I was still in complete control,
wasn't I? Her hand shot out and grabbed my hand, which had been about to
lift the shot glass to my mouth.
"Don't you think you've had enough?" she asked. Anger flared in me and I
scowled at her. What right did she have to say that? I jerked my hand away,
nearly falling over in the process, and spilling half the tequila all over
the front of my shirt.
"Fuck! Now look what you made me do!" I snapped, louder than I had intended
and still slurring my words. Hilde reached forward to take hold of my arm.
"You're really drunk, Duo. Why don't I take you to your room and you can go
to bed?" she suggested evenly. I jerked away from her again, and this time I
did fall, smacking my head on the edge of the bar in the process. I saw
stars, my vision swimming even more than it had been before. I lifted a hand
to my temple and felt blood. I stared dazedly up at the ceiling, feeling
incredibly disoriented.
"Duo! Are you okay?" Hilde exclaimed, crouching down beside me, her face a
mask of concern. Suddenly I was surrounded by a sea of legs, as people
gathered around to see if I was okay.
"Leave me alone! I'm fine!" I yelled, pushing her away and trying to get to
my feet. Man, why was I yelling so loudly? My voice rang in my ears,
intensifying the pain from the gash on my head. My legs were like rubber and
I slumped back to the floor. Suddenly hands were all over me, trying to help
me up. I pushed them away violently. "Christ, get the fuck away from me!" I
was so angry. Why was I so angry? A moment ago I'd been having fun, the last
one on the dance floor, still dancing wildly. Now I was sprawled
unceremoniously on the floor, unable to get up, and filled with inexplicably
rage. What the hell was wrong with me?
"Duo, we're just trying to help you get up," Wufei said slowly, as if
speaking to a particularly dense child. He reached for me again. I smacked
his arm away wildly.
"I don't NEED your help! I don't need ANYBODY'S help! I'm perfectly fine!" I
cringed, not only at the volume of my voice, but also at how badly the words
were slurred. Christ, I could barely talk. I tried again to get to my feet
unaided. My body was so numb, my limbs like rubber. I couldn't seem to get
them to do what I wanted them to do. Somehow, I got to my feet, but was only
managing to remain so by clinging onto the bar like it was a lifeboat. Not
only was my head swimming, but now my stomach was turning over on itself,
and I was feeling distinctly ill. More hands reached out to steady me. I
spun around, nearly falling again, my back making painful contact with the
edge of the bar. I flailed my arm wildly in the air, smacking the others
away. "Leave me ALONE!" I bellowed.
They were all staring at me, like I had three heads or something. What was
their problem? Okay, so I'd had a little too much to drink. What was the big
deal? Okay, so maybe it was a lot too much. Still no reason to be
looking at me like that. I had the sudden crazy thought that they could
see right through me, right inside to the real me, and they were horrified
and disgusted at what they saw. I could hear the cacophony of their voices
as they spoke to me, but I couldn't make out what they were saying.
Condescending, placating voices, like they were speaking to a child. My face
burned with embarrassment and anger.
"What the FUCK is everyone staring at? Get away from me!" I screamed. My
eyes were burning with tears, and I didn't even know why. I launched myself
away from the bar, intending to storm out of there, but I didn't make it.
Didn't even make it one step, in fact, as my legs gave out from under me and
I hit the floor on my hands and knees hard, sending bolts of pain up my
numbed limbs. Suddenly, I was emptying the contents of my stomach all over
the floor. I think I was still throwing up when I passed out.
(1) This is how we dance when my friends Jeff and Joey and I go
out to a club. Since they are a couple, they dance *together*, while I
just kind've dance with them/next to them, so that we're a little group of three. ^_^
(back)
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***
Part 7
My head was one massive knot of pain.
That was my first coherent thought when I woke the next day. "Woke" is
putting it kindly. Clawing my way back from the dead may be a more accurate
description.
I sat up gingerly, shutting my eyes against the harsh daylight. I rubbed
both hands against my aching head, and slowly opened my eyes, giving them
time to adjust to the light. What the hell had happened? I examined my
surroundings. I was in my room, at Quatre's estate. I was on the bed, but
still fully clothed. Only my boots had been removed. I spotted them over by
the door, arranged neatly. The next thing I became aware of was the
absolutely horrible acidic taste in my mouth. Had... had I thrown up or
something? I struggled to remember what had happened. Slowly, things started
to come back to me.
The party. I remembered going to the party. And tequila. I remembered
drinking lots of tequila. I groaned. What had I been thinking? My memories
after that got murkier and murkier, but... yes. Hilde. Hilde had approached
me, concerned. And I had reacted badly. Yelling? Vaguely I remembered
yelling. But at who? As I struggled to remember, more vague images came to
mind. Of everyone standing around. Looking at me. And falling. And more
yelling, at everyone and no one in particular. And worst of all, I
remembered throwing up. In front of everybody.
Oh God.
Icy fear gripped my heart. Had I really behaved like that, in front of
everyone? What must they be thinking? How could I have been so stupid? How
the hell was I going to get out of this mess???
Suddenly, a wave of nausea overwhelmed me. Choking it back, I stumbled out
of bed and made my way to the bathroom. Thankfully I didn't encounter anyone
on the way. I vomited into the toilet for a few moments, though it was
mostly dry-heaving, as I had already thrown up the night before. Afterwards,
I brushed my teeth to get the awful taste out of my mouth, and then
plundered the medicine cabinet until I found a bottle of aspirin, swallowing
four of the little white pills in hopes of subduing my pounding headache.
I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked like shit. There was a small,
bruised gash on my temple. Oh yes. I had hit my head on the bar the first
time I fell down. Idiot! I cursed at myself. How could I have let myself
lose control in front of the others like that? Lord only knows what they
were thinking. My stomach twisted with shame and embarrassment at that
thought. I glanced at my watch. After one in the afternoon. Well, I couldn't
hide up here all day, as much as I would like to. My blood icy with fear and
anticipation, I made my way downstairs.
I heard voices as I approached the dining room. Everyone must be at lunch.
I paused outside of the door, glancing in, but making sure I couldn't be
seen. My stomach twisted again when I realized the topic of their
discussion: me.
"We can't just ignore this. There's obviously something very wrong here. He
needs our help," Hilde said, her voice radiating concern.
"I don't know why you're so concerned. The baka just had too much to drink.
Shameful to be sure, but hardly a reason to be alarmed. This is Maxwell,
after all. He's not known for his self control," Wufei stated dryly. I
bristled.
"Hn. I think that Hilde may have a point. We've all seen Duo drunk before,
but this was... different. He was really upset," Heero said. There was
silence for a moment as everyone digested this. No one was used to
expressions of concern from Heero. I could hardly believe my ears.
It was Quatre who finally broke the silence. "Well, what should we do? I
agree with Hilde and Heero. I think there's a real problem here." His face
twisted a little. "I don't think people get that drunk and upset without
there being some underlying cause for concern." Trowa reached out and patted
the blonde's hand reassuringly.
I leaned back against the hallway wall. My heart was pounding with panic. I
hated it that they were talking about me like that. I was so embarrassed.
What the hell was I going to do?
"I'm not sure," Relena remarked thoughtfully. "It was definitely upsetting
seeing Duo like that. But it's possible that he simply had more to drink
than he could handle. You could be reading too much into it. He could have
just gotten carried away."
"How can you say that! God! Have any of you looked at him since he's been
here? He looks terrible! Something is really wrong with him," Hilde said
with vehemence. "I mean, thing about it! Have any of you actually seen him
in the past six months, before you all came here? Do any of you even know
where he's been living, or what he's been doing? All I have is a phone
number and an e-mail address, and I'm guessing that's all any of you have,
too. God, he doesn't even use vidphone, or else we would have seen the state
he's in. I'm scared for him, guys. Something's really wrong. He needs our
help. I don't understand how any of you can have seen him last night and not
think the same thing. It was… horrible seeing him like that. He must be in
so much pain…" She turned away, obviously fighting tears.
"I have to agree. Duo was dangerously close to alcohol-poisoning last
night. And he's lost so much weight. I think those are signs of a deeper
problem," Sally said.
"But this is Maxwell! I respect his skills as a pilot, but as I stated
before, he's not exactly known for his self-control. Why does one occurrence
of poor judgement, which is not exactly out of character for the braided
baka, have to be a sign of some serious underlying problem? What exactly is
it that your are suggesting, anyway?" Wufei argued.
"That he needs help! He hasn't been himself at all, and no one has said
anything! Why didn't any of us become concerned when he has so little
contact with us? Shouldn't we have seen that as strange? But we were all too
wrapped up in our own little lives to notice, and he's been paying the
price. God, it's so obvious to me now, why can't you see it, Wufei? Relena?
I think... I think Duo's depressed." Hilde replied, her voice shaking.
My heart twisted in my chest, and panic curled around my brain. Oh shit, oh
shit, oh shit. I was so confused. They were concerned? Now?! Why hadn't they
cared before? But it was obvious that some of them, at least, cared. I
didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve their concern. I was a horrible person.
Last night was proof of that. What kind of pathetic loser gets that
unbelievably drunk and freaks out like that? A small voice in the back of my
head told me that this was my chance, my chance to tell them everything. But
icy fear washed down my spine at that thought. No. No one could find out.
They didn't deserve to have to deal with my shit. They'd abandon me when
they found out just how fucked up I was anyway. How could they not? I was
disgusting. No. They were too close to finding out, and I couldn't handle
that. I was too scared. I had to get out of here.
I took off running back up to my room, though my head pounded violently in
protest. I knew that they must have heard me, but I didn't care. My
suspicions were confirmed when I heard people scrambling to their feet, and
Hilde's voice singing out behind me.
"Duo! Duo, come back!" I ignored her and continued running up the stairs,
not stopping until I'd reached my room and slammed and locked the door
behind me. I leaned back against the door for a moment, panting, my mind
racing. Yup, I had to get out of here as fast as I could. There was no way I
could handle this right now. I moved forward and started throwing the few
things I'd brought with me into my bag, pausing for a moment to change
shirts, as the one from the night before smelled vaguely of vomit. As I was
buttoning the fresh shirt, there was a tentative knock on the door.
"Duo? Please open the door. We need to talk to you." Hilde called. Oh shit.
We? What were they doing, ganging up on me?
"Go away." I said as I continued packing. Someone tried the knob, only to
find it locked. There was a shuffle outside, and then I heard Heero's voice
call through the door.
"Duo, if you don't open the door right now, I'm going to break it down."
Geez, Heero, so nice of you to care. Now.
"Go AWAY!!!" I yelled, surprising even myself with my voice's vehemence.
God, this couldn't be happening. I noticed with horror that my hands were
shaking as I threw stuff into my bag. There was murmuring outside, and then,
just as promised, there was a crash against the door and it flew inwards.
They all came pouring into my room. And I mean ALL of them, my four fellow
ex-gundam pilots, and the five girls. The room seemed suddenly much smaller.
I had never felt so trapped in my life, and I must have looked it, too,
judging by the way they were staring at me. I tried to ignore them, tossing
the last of my stuff into the bag and jerking the zipper shut shakily.
Hilde approached me warily, almost as one would an injured wild animal.
Maybe that's what I was. "Duo, you're not leaving are you? There's no reason
for you to leave. In fact, we'd really like to talk to you. We're
worried..."
"Save it," I spat out, cutting her off. She flinched. I hated being so rude
to her, but God, I just had to get out of here. "It's time for me to go, and
you can't stop me." I grabbed my bag and took a step towards the door, but
Heero moved to block my path. Though my eyes were suddenly burning for some
strange reason, I met his gaze evenly. "Out of my way, Heero. I'm leaving."
"No, you're not," he replied, just as evenly. "You're not leaving until
you've heard what we have to say. Hilde is very worried. We're all
worried..."
Suddenly anger flared up within me, the same anger as last night. And just
like last night, I was at a loss to explain where it came from. All I knew
was that it was all consuming, and it made my chest feel uncomfortably
tight. I exploded.
"You're WORRIED??? What, about me? You all sure have a funny way of showing
it!" I screamed, my face contorted with rage. Nine shocked faces stared back
at me. Oh yeah, I'd surprised them now. Duo, acting decidedly un-Duo like.
But, damnit, I was sick of that mask. It was too tiring. And with how I was
feeling right now I just didn't have the energy for it. "You all think
you're my friends, but you don't even know the real me. You don't know
ANYTHING about me! Last night was a mistake, nothing more. I'm FINE! Not
that any of you would notice or care anyway. As long as I'm the joking clown
you're all happy. I make ONE mistake and now suddenly you're WORRIED! Give
me a break!" Damnit, my eyes were absolutely stinging now. I was on the
verge of tears. Oh God, not now. But sure enough a moment later they
overwhelmed and a few tears began to track down my face. I think that, more
than anything, was what was making Heero's eyes look like they were about to
fall out on the floor.
Silence reigned in the room for another few moments as they all continued
to stare at me in mute shock. Hilde tentatively reached out to touch my arm,
but I brushed her off angrily and stalked around the still stunned Heero
towards the door. Hilde made another attempt, this time lunging forward to
grab ahold of me before I could leave. She managed to latch onto my left
arm, her fingers clamping shut right over the bandage covering the deep
slash I had made the previous morning.
"Itai!" I yelped, simultaneously dropping my bag and jerking away from her,
cradling my left arm against my chest. Hilde looked perpleaxed.
"Duo, are you hurt? Is it something you did last night?" she asked.
"Here, Duo, let me have a look at it," Sally took a step forward.
"NO!" I screamed. It seemed that I had been doing that a lot lately. It was
a wonder my throat wasn't raw. I could feel the fabric of my shirt growing
damp over the bandage. The wound had been reopened and was bleeding again.
Shit. At least they couldn't see it on the black shirt. "I'm fine," I said
through gritted teeth. "It's nothing. Listen, I have no interest in
continuing this conversation. I'm getting the hell out of here." I picked up
my bag again, and hastily wiped the traitorous tears from my cheeks.
"Duo!" Quatre called, stepping forward uncertainly. "Please don't go. If
there's something bothering you, you can talk to us about it. We're your
friends. We care about you, but you're scaring us. Please, tell us what's
wrong." I turned my gaze on him, and my heart softened a little at the
earnest, concerned look on his face. But my voice lost none of its steel.
"Don't you get it? You can't help me! None of you can!" I winced at the
pained expression on his innocent face. No, no, no! My presence alone was
hurting them! I had to get out of here. It was best for everyone. "I'm
leaving. Don't try to stop me. If you don't want one of your cars to bring
me into town, Quatre, then I swear to God I'll walk the whole way." My eyes
locked briefly with Trowa's as I tore my gaze away from Quatre, and what I
saw there surprised me. Understanding, I think, and a quiet acceptance that
this was how things had to be. I gave him a curt nod, and then I turned and
left the room. I stopped into the bathroom to grab the last of my belongings
(my toiletry bag, complete with razor blade case) before making my way
downstairs. The others followed mutely.
Downstairs Quatre called one of the servants to bring a car and driver
round to the front of the estate. I stood stiffly as I waited, refusing to
look at any of them. You could have cut the tension in the room with a
knife.
Finally, Hilde broke the silence. "That's it? We're just going to
let him leave? You're going to HELP him leave by providing a ride into
town?" Quatre just turned away, tears pricking at his eyes, his face a mask
of pain. It was Trowa who answered her, his voice even, his face neutral.
"It's at least 100 degrees out there. He won't make it to town if he
tries to walk there, which I don't doubt he would try to do. Besides, we
cannot keep him here against his will."
Exasperated, she made one final plea to me. "Duo, please don't do
this. We can help you, whatever it is! If you're embarrassed by what
happened last night, don't be! We don't think any less of you, we're your
friends! Running away won't solve anything!" All I could do was stare at the
floor, tears tracking down my face again. God, how could I be so weak! This
was for the best! Why did it twist my heart so much to turn away from them?
"Damnit, Duo! At least tell us where you're going!"
The care pulled up then, and I turned to leave without a word. There
was nothing more to say. Hilde threw her arms around me, sobbing, and I
flinched a bit as she put pressure on the bleeding cut again. Gently but
firmly, I disentangled myself and strode to the car. "Go," I murmured to the
driver as I climbed in, and he started to drive away from the estate. I
couldn't stop myself from glancing back one more time. They were all
silently watching the car drive away, their faces grim, obviously at a loss
for words. The last thing I saw before quickly turning away was the look of
shock and horror that came over Hilde's face when she noticed the blood that
had been smeared on her shirt when she hugged me.
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***
Part 8
My head was one massive knot of pain.
Hmmm. This was getting to be a bit of a habit. That was my first thought
when I awoke one day about a week and a half after I fled from Quatre's. Or
maybe it was one night. As I blearily looked around my dreary bedroom, I
wasn't quite sure if it was night or day. Or even exactly what day it was.
I sat up slowly, wincing at my pounding headache. I gave a small cry of pain
as the movement set off unexpected pangs of sharp pain in my arms. I looked
down. I swallowed back the sudden lump in my throat. Oh, shit. My arms
were covered in dark dried blood. I even had to unstick my left arm from the
sheet, which was also caked with blood. That caused several of the cuts
there to start bleeding again. Crap, how much damage had I done?
I fumbled for the bedside lamp. Stretching my arm out like that sent waves
of pain up my arm. Finally I found the switch and the room was bathed in
light. I blinked back tears until my eyes adjusted, and then was finally
able to examine my arms more closely. I sighed sharply.
It was pretty bad. Both the front and the back of my forearms were covered
in long, deep cuts. Fresh wounds criss-crossed old scars. Most of them
looked as if they really should get stitches. A couple even looked to be in
the beginning stages of infection. Great. Just great. Just what the hell had
I been doing?
The last crystal clear memory I had was leaving Quatre's. I had a cocktail
on the shuttle back to L2 in the hopes of easing my hangover, but that one
cocktail had turned into half a dozen. By the time I'd gotten to my colony,
I'd been thoroughly smashed. I had stopped off at a liquor store on the way
to my apartment, and it all pretty much went downhill from there.
There were vague memories of drinking, cutting, and more drinking. I think
I'd ordered liquor in when I'd run out. I took stock of my surroundings a
bit more carefully. The sheets were bloodstained. You'd think there'd been a
murder in here or something. And it wasn't just my arms. My thighs ached as
well. Sure enough, they were covered in long deep gashes as well. I was only
wearing boxer shorts and a tank top, so I could clearly see all the damage.
My stomach flip-flopped, and I knew it wasn't just from my hangover. It
was shocking to see so much done in such a short span of time. Empty beer
bottles and vodka bottles were strewn about the room. The digital clock read
7:23. But was it morning or evening?
Moving very carefully, so as not to disturb all my cuts too roughly, I made
my way to the window and peered behind the heavy room-darkening privacy
shade. Aah. Evening. Now I just had to figure out exactly what day it was.
Suddenly I became aware of an intense need to use the bathroom. It was
probably what had woken me up. The nausea rising up through me in waves also
told me that getting to the bathroom would be a good idea. I gingerly made
my way to the bathroom, every movement of my mutilated limbs agony, my head
pounding. I vomited in the toilet, but my stomach was all but empty, so I
ended up dry-heaving for about five minutes. I couldn't believe how sick I
felt. After I finished that and emptied my bladder, I peered at myself in
the mirror, and I flinched at what I saw reflected there. If Hilde thought I
looked unhealthy before, she should have seen me then. I was downright
ghastly. I'd lost even more weight. I looked practically skeletal. There
were flecks of blood dried on my face. My hair hung about my shoulders in
clumps, half out of its braid. It needed to be washed badly. My eyes were
bloodshot, and there were dark circles under them. They almost looked
bruised. I turned away, unable to stomach the image any longer.
I quickly washed the dried blood off my hands and face, but ignored the rest
of my body. Maybe I would shower later. Maybe. I supposed those cuts needed
to be cleaned out sooner or later. I couldn't make myself really care.
In a daze I wandered out to the living room. I was a little sickened to see
the drops and smears of blood scattered everywhere. Apparently in my drunken
state I hadn't exactly been careful about bleeding all over the place. Just
like my bedroom, there were empty bottles scattered about, adding to the
general mess. Christ, I'd gone on quite the little bender, hadn't I? They
weren't all from the past week, over-indulging in alcohol had been
something I'd been doing more and more often over the past couple of months,
but a lot of them were.
I went over to the phone. The display gave the date as Saturday, and it was
eleven days since I had left Quatre's. Hooray for me, I knew what day it
was. It also indicated that I had almost two dozen messages. Hilde, Quatre,
and maybe a few of the others, trying to check up on me no doubt. They had
the number, but I had meticulously rerouted it so that it couldn't be
traced. I was sure no one would be able to find me.
In the kitchen I found a pot half-full of rice in the sink. It was dried
into a rock-hard mass. I wondered when the last time I ate was. Judging from
the state of the rice in the pot, it had been at least a couple of days
since I'd last cooked. I supposed I should be hungry, but I didn't feel like
eating. I just felt hollow inside. Instead, I just mechanically went through
the motions of putting some coffee on.
While the coffee was perking, I went in search of a liquor bottle that
wasn't empty. I knew perfectly well that the reason I'd gone on such a
bender was to avoid thinking about what had happened at Quatre's, and I saw
no reason to start thinking about it now. I just wanted to feel numb again.
My hands were trembling as I poked through the cupboards and then turned my
attention to sorting through the bottles strewn about the living room. I
winced as each movement sent needles of pain stabbing through me from all
the cuts. Despite my best efforts, my search didn't turn up a single drop of
alcohol. I was disappointed, but not terribly surprised. Why would I have
sobered up like this if there had still been anything left to drink in the
apartment? I would have to call the liquor store and arrange another
delivery. I certainly wasn't in any shape to go out. I did, however, come
across a couple of blood-encrusted razor blades, which I took back to the
kitchen with me.
As I sat sipping black coffee from a Scooby Doo mug, I stared down at the
blades, which I had laid on the table in front of me. My limbs were a mess,
I would even go so far as to say they were mutilated, and I had done it to
myself with those blades. The thought filled me with shame and
self-loathing. God, I was a freak. What kind of a person does this to
themselves? I looked at my wrists. None of the cuts there were too deep.
It seemed that even drunk I had subconsciously avoided accidentally opening
a vein. Pity. I flinched at the thought, but could not deny its truth. It
would be better if I had not woken up, if in my drunken slashings I had
laid open a vein and spilled my blood until I passed out for the last time.
Setting down the mug I picked up one of the blades and wiped as much of the
dried blood off of it as I could onto my shirt. I held up my left wrist and
gazed at it for a moment, then I brought the blade up and rested it against
the pale skin. Why not? The words whispered quietly in my mind. I
swallowed hard, my chest tightening. Why not just go ahead and do it? I
could not think of a single good reason why I shouldn't just sink that blade
into the vein right now. I traced the blade against my skin, following the
path necessary to lay open the vein, but not pressing very hard, just enough
to break the skin. Small red droplets of blood formed along the line. Sure,
some of my friends would be upset, but they'd get over it, and they'd be
better off without me anyway. My chest tightened even more, and I could feel
tears prickling at my eyes. I traced over the line again, pushing a bit
harder, cutting through a few more layers of skin. My hand was trembling. A
small trickle of blood started to run down my arm, dripping onto the table.
There was no reason for me to keep living. This was not a life, keeping
yourself constantly inebriated so that you wouldn't have to think, to feel.
And even in the numbness of being drunk, I was still in enough pain to lead
me to slice up my arms and legs worse than I ever had before. I shivered.
Suddenly I felt so cold. I felt a tear run down my cheek. That was it then.
There wasn't really any reason not to. And there were more than enough
reasons to go ahead. One deep slash and it would all go away. The pain, the
loneliness, the misery, the shame... it would all just go away. Still
trembling, I poised my hand over the cut, ready to slice down with enough
force to reach the vein.
And was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing.
I was so startled I dropped the blade. I never have visitors. The only
reason anyone would have for coming to my door was for a delivery, but I
wasn't expecting anything. The doorbell rang again, followed by a voice
calling out.
"Duo? Are you in there? Please open the door!" It was Hilde! I jumped to my
feet, panic gripping my heart. How the hell had she found me? I should just
pretend I wasn't home. I certainly couldn't let her in here. The place was a
mess. I was a mess.
"Duo! You have exactly two minutes to open this door, or else I'm going to
break it down." Heero? Heero was here, too? I couldn't believe it. But I had
to do something before they came in here, I couldn't let them see all these
cuts. The confrontation would be bad, but I would get rid of them as quickly
as I could, and then I'd finish what I'd started. Why couldn't they have
shown up an hour from now, when it was all over? Why'd they have to come
now? Damn! My arm was bleeding. I had to cover it, and the rest of the
damage, and fast. I grabbed a dish towel and wrapped it around my arm.
Moving as quickly as I could, I hurried to the bedroom and threw on the
cleanest clothes I could find. It was all I could do to keep from screaming
as I drew the cloth over the cuts on my arms and legs, but at least they
were covered. My left sleeve looked a little funny with the dishtowel still
wrapped around my arm underneath it, but hopefully they wouldn't notice. I
had no idea how to explain the blood splattered here and there all over the
place, but I didn't have time to think about that right now. Hopefully I'd
be able to make them leave without letting them in. If not, then maybe they
just wouldn't notice. Yeah, right.
I hurried back out, figuring the two minutes were probably nearly up. I
paused in front of the door, taking several deep breaths, but it was no use.
I couldn't quell my panic. My heart a heavy lump in my chest, I opened the
door to face them.
I found not just Hilde and Heero waiting on the other side, but Sally as
well. They all paled when they saw me, even Heero. Like I said before, I
looked ghastly. Man, Hilde looked like she was about to cry. I swallowed
back the lump in my throat.
"How did you find me?" I asked quietly. I nearly flinched at how hollow my
own voice sounded. They continued to stare at me for a moment, until finally
Hilde answered, her own voice sounding hollow and strained.
"Heero tracked down your phone number. It took awhile since you'd obviously
taken a lot of care to make it untraceable, but he persisted until he found
this place. Um... Quatre wanted to come with us, but Trowa and I convinced
him that too many people would make you feel... trapped. Sally lives right
here on this satellite and I want you to see a doctor anyway, so who better
than one who cares about you?"
I was startled to say the least. I knew without a doubt that it would indeed
have taken a lot of time and effort to crack the block on the phone
number. That Heero had bothered to do so was what surprised me. I stared at
him, the shock plain on my face, and to my amazement he looked away, looking
mildly embarrassed. What the...?
"Look Duo, can we come in? I'd rather not have this conversation in the
hall," Hilde said, her voice nearly cracking. I tore my eyes away from Heero
to meet hers, but looked away again quickly. I could not bear the pain I saw
there, pain that I was causing.
"Well, I wasn't really expecting company, and the place is a mess, and I
don't really feel like talking..." My rambling was cut off as Heero pushed
past me to walk into the apartment. I guess that settled that. With a
defeated sigh I waved the girls in as well and then shut the door behind
them. They stood awkwardly just inside the living room. It seemed they
didn't know how to start. I sighed again and went into the kitchen,
retrieving my cup of coffee. My hands were trembling again and I wanted
something warm to hang onto and to keep them busy. The others followed me
mutely. Hilde wrinkled her nose when she spotted the mess in the sink. With
a start I noticed that the razor blade and fresh drops of blood were in
plain sight on the table. As nonchalantly as possible I stepped over to
block them from view.
It was Hilde who finally broke the awkward silence, speaking rapidly and
obviously very nervous. "Duo, we're very worried about you. We think... we
think you're sick and that you should see a doctor. Sally could examine you
if you like, or we could take you to the hospital. You've lost so much
weight, Duo, you... you really don't look well. And well your behaviour at
Quatre's... we think you should talk to someone about that as well. You
seem... depressed or something. We're your friends and we're here for you if
you need to talk. We care about you, and we're just really concerned. You...
you just haven't been yourself...."
The whole time she was speaking I stared down into the swirling black depths
of my coffee cup, which I was gripping fiercely in both hands. I could feel
the rage building inside me with her every word, but that last statement was
the last straw. My head snapped up to look at the three of them, and I could
see that they were all surprised at how angry I was.
"Haven't been myself? HAVEN'T BEEN MYSELF?!?! And just how would any of you
know how I act when I act like "myself"? You don't know me! None of you know
me! All you know is the joker's mask that I put on for you, to help get us
all through the war. Well there's a PERSON underneath that mask, not that
any of you bothered to find that out, not even when I was practically
screaming for your attention!" To my horror tears were starting to roll down
my cheeks. Christ, how many times was I going to cry in front of them?
"Maybe this IS the real me, unhappy, miserable, lonely, anti-social, take
your pick. Maybe you're just finally seeing what's underneath the mask, and
you don't like it. Well you know what? I'VE BEEN HERE ALL ALONG!!!" With
that I threw the coffee mug against the wall, shattering it.
They all jumped at the sound, even the ever-implacable Heero. They all
stared at me mutely, shocked at my outburst. To tell the truth I was shocked
as well. But I was angry, damnit. Every word was true. This was the real
me, always had been, for as long as I could remember. Where did they come
off saying they were my friends now, that they cared about me? My whole body
was shaking, and I wrapped my arms around myself, even as I flinched from
the needles of pain shooting from the cuts.
"Damn. That was my favourite coffee mug." I said softly, and then winced.
There I went again. Try to make everything okay with a lame joke. Like
anything would ever be okay again. It seemed to break the spell, though.
Sally moved away from the others out into the living room, observing the
mess of liquor bottles with a critical eye. Heero continued to stare at me
like he was trying to think of something to say, but was at a loss for
words. I'd never seen him looking so... uncomfortable. Hilde looked to be
deep in thought, even as she gazed at me with sad, wounded eyes. I guessed
she was trying to think of what to say next. With a weary sigh I sank down
into one of the kitchen chairs, rubbing my face with my hands. God, I just
wanted them to leave. I wanted them out of there so I could just finish....
Just when I thought the awkward silence would stretch on forever, Sally
strode back into the kitchen, her face grim. She stopped right in front of
me, and I looked up at her with tired eyes.
"Duo, where did you hurt yourself?" she asked quietly. Heero and Hilde
looked up sharply. I stiffened, and I swear it felt as if the world had just
dropped out from under me. My mind raced, and I opened my mouth to reply but
was unable to make a sound for a few moments.
"Wh-what... do you mean?" I finally managed to get out, swallowing the huge
lump in my throat. Her face softened, but her voice remained cool and in
control, even as I realized with a start that she actually was upset. Over
me?
"There's no use denying it, Duo. Hilde told me about the blood she got on
her shirt the last time she hugged you, and that made me suspicious. And now
I see that there is blood all over the place in here. I did a psych rotation
as part of my medical training, so I have heard of self-injury." I swallowed
hard, my chest tightening. This could not be happening. It just could not
be happening! My startled gaze flicked from Sally to the others. Hilde was
staring at me with her mouth hanging open in shock. Heero had bristled and
was now scanning the room, perhaps in search of the blood Sally had
mentioned. His eyes came to rest on the table and widened slightly. Oh shit.
I hadn't even realized it, but when I sat down I had no longer been blocking
the razor from view. He'd seen it.
Heero strode forward and picked it up, eyes narrowing as he observed the
fresh blood on the blade. Then he turned his gaze on me, and I just wanted
to crawl away and die. His eyes were brimming with emotion, anger, hurt,
concern, guilt. Guilt? He none-too gently nudged Sally aside and hauled me
to my feet. I couldn't help but cry out in pain as his hand fastened around
my left wrist. He looked at me, and then pulled up my shirtsleeve. I just
stood there numbly, knowing there was no point in resisting. He frowned at
the blood-stained dish towel, and then pulled it away, breathing in sharply
when he saw not only the gashes from over the past ten days, but also the
old scars and the new gash from barely ten minutes ago. He looked up at me
again, still gripping my arm, but much more gently, and this time his eyes
were brimming with pain. I looked away, tears spilling from my eyes.
"You were going to kill yourself," He said it simply, a statement of fact,
not a question. His voice betrayed little of the emotion I had seen in his
eyes. Hilde rushed forward to look at my exposed arm, and then turned away,
choking back a sob. Sally's mouth was set in a grim line. "Why?" he asked.
It was too much. It was just too much. The hangover still pounding at my
brain, the sick feeling in my stomach, the shame and self-loathing and utter
misery of a lifetime coming to a head, the decision made only today to
finally put an end to this nightmare, the shock and utter embarrassment at
being discovered, and a million other things. It was all just too much for
my addled brain to handle. I snapped.
I pulled away from him violently, and he wasn't expecting that so he easily
lost his hold on my arm. I backed away from all three of them, my whole body
shaking with anger, shame, and misery. My eyes flashed daggers at them.
"Why? WHY? Why not?" I spat at them. All three of them flinched at the venom
in my voice, but I didn't care. "Give me one good reason why this... this
NIGHTMARE should continue! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of all of it!" I was
sobbing now, the tears running freely, but I barely noticed. "I'm tired of
just going through the motions of being alive, and I'm not even doing a good
job of it anymore. I just want it all to be over! The misery, the pain, the
loneliness... I just want it all to go away! Why can't it just all go away?"
I sank to the floor as the strength in my legs gave out, feeling suddenly
faint. "Don't I deserve some peace? I can't be expected to go on living like
this forever, can I? It's not living, it's not! I'm already dead anyway. I'm
already dead ANYWAY! What difference could it make? I'm already dead...." I
was babbling through my sobs, and barely aware that they had gathered around
me. Hilde had crouched down and was gently shaking me. I looked up at her
through my tears, my face set in an anguished grimace. She was sobbing, too.
"We're going to help you, okay Duo? Everything's going to be okay. God, I'm
so sorry. Everything's going to be just fine, just let us help you, okay?"
she said, her voice shaking. I felt a sharp jab in my arm and turned just in
time to see Sally empty a syringe into my vein. I stiffened.
"It's just a sedative, Duo," she said soothingly, stroking the side of my
face as if I was a child. "It's just going to calm you down and make you
feel better, okay?" She was talking to me like I was a child, too, but it
couldn't hide the pained pitch to her voice. "This is what we're going to
do, okay? We're going to go to my clinic. It's not far from here. I'll
examine you and look after those cuts, okay? Then we're going to go to L4.
There's a hospital there, on the same satellite as Quatre's main estate, and
they'll be able to help you there, okay?"
I closed my eyes, taking deep weary breaths. A mental hospital? They wanted
to ship me off to a mental hospital. But I was too tired to argue. Was that
shot Sally had given me working already? All I could do was nod weakly.
"Okay then. Heero, Hilde, why don't you pack a few things for him?" Sally
sounded distinctly relieved that I wasn't going to argue. I opened my eyes
and watched the two of them disappear down the hallway, Hilde still crying,
but having gotten herself more under control. Heero looked back at me, an
odd look on his face. While they were gone, Sally remained crouched by me on
the floor, the hand that had been stroking my face now reassuredly rubbing
my back, telling me everything was going to be okay. Tears were still
rolling down my face, but I was no longer sobbing either, just taking
labored, hitching breaths. It all felt like some kind of bad dream.
Heero and Hilde returned a few moments later with a packed bag, both looking
visibly shaken. I guessed that they'd seen all the blood on my bed. Sally
helped me to my feet, gently taking hold of my arm. I let myself be led out
of my apartment, watching mutely as Heero locked up behind us. I couldn't
have cared less if he'd left the door wide open, I didn't plan on ever going
back there. Still holding my arm, Sally led me down the stairs and out to
her car. The three of them didn't relax until I was safely buckled into the
backseat. Maybe they thought I was going to try to run away or something.
But I didn't have the energy. I just laid my head against the cold glass of
the window and closed my eyes as the car jerked into movement. They were
probably pleased with how agreeable I was being. Little did they know that I
had no intention of ending up in some loonie bin.
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***
Part 9
By the time the car pulled to a stop in front of Sally's small free clinic,
I was definitely feeling the effects of the drug she'd given me. I felt
almost pleasantly numb, except for when I moved, sending needles of pain
radiating from all my cuts, and I had to concentrate to focus my eyes. The
clinic was closed, since it was late in the evening by then, but Sally had
the keys. We filed inside mutely, Sally once again gently taking hold of my
arm to lead me. I don't know if it was a gesture of support, or if she was
worried I would try to run away.
"You two wait out here," Sally instructed as we passed through a small
waiting area. Hilde flopped into a plastic chair soundlessly, looking
decidedly drained, but for a moment Heero looked like he was going to argue.
He appeared to decide against it, though, and sat in a chair opposite from
Hilde. Sally led me down the hallway and through an open doorway, flicking
on the light to reveal a fair sized room with an examination table and a
counter with a sink. She closed the door behind us and gestured for me to
sit on the table. I swayed a little as I walked over to it, a little dizzy
from the drug
"How are you feeling now, Duo?" Sally asked me.
"Peachy," I replied, attempting deadpan, but it came out a little fuzzy. I
blinked. "I don't know what that shit was that you gave me, Sally, but I
sure like it." Damn, that was a smart thing to say. Now she'd think I was a
major druggie or something. Sure enough, I saw her back straighten a little.
"And do you often take drugs, Duo?" she asked, managing to sound almost
casual. Boy, she was a crafty one, thinking she'd get me to admit to stuff
in my incapacitated state....
"Oh, sometimes," I found myself answering. Well, shit. I scowled, but it
was half-hearted. After all, what difference could it make now? Sally seemed
to decide to move on, though I was sure that she stored that tidbit away to
bring up at another time.
She turned to the small sink and started to wash her hands. "Could you
please take off any clothes that are covering up cuts? I need to clean and
bandage them." Her voice was almost steady. Almost. Grimacing, I reached up
and started to unbutton my shirt, suddenly not feeling quite so mellow
anymore. But there was no way out of this now. I shrugged out of the shirt,
wincing from the pain caused by moving my arms and by the cloth rubbing over
the mutilated skin. God, my arms looked bad, especially under the bright
fluorescent lights. For a moment, I considered whether or not I should show
her my thighs. I figured that at this point, there really was no point in
keeping it from her. It's not as if I could imagine ever feeling more
ashamed and humiliated than I did right then. So I stripped off my pants as
well, leaving me only in my bloodstained boxers.
I turned to look at Sally. She still had her back to me, busying herself at
the sink. She pulled on a pair of latex gloves after she dried her hands.
With an audible sigh, she turned and raised her eyes to look at me. I saw
the shock on her face as she saw the extent of the scars and cuts, though
she tried hard to hide it. She turned white as a sheet, and her lips pressed
into a thin line as she drew in a sharp breath. Though it hurt to do so, I
drew my arms up and wrapped them around my chest, turning away from her. I
was wrong before. It was possible to feel more ashamed and humiliated. Right
then I felt worse than I could ever imagine. I had never felt so exposed and
naked in my entire life. Tears burned at my eyelids.
Sally came up behind me, gently placing her hands on my trembling
shoulders. "Oh, Duo...," she murmured. And then, defying all expectations
yet again, I felt even worse. She was in pain, and it was all my fault. I
should have killed myself months ago and spared them all of this.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. God, I felt like shit. How could this be
happening?
"No," she replied firmly. "You have nothing to be sorry about. It's all of
us who should be sorry. You've obviously been in pain for a long time, and
we should have noticed." She was just trying to make me feel better. I knew
who's fault this all was. Mine. I just wanted to crawl away and die.
Sally returned to the sink to fill a washbasin with water, and I sat on the
exam table. I couldn't take my eyes off my arms and thighs. The harsh
lighting was merciless. Every line stood out starkly against my pale skin, a
roadmap of pain and misery. Faded marks that had all but disappeared, newer
lines laid out in shades of pink and red, some raised and ridged, and
finally the freshest cuts, angry dark red slashes crusted with dried blood.
I could barely wrap my mind around it. The shame I felt was indescribable.
Finally my eyes turned to the freshest cut of all, my interrupted suicide
attempt of less than an hour ago. When would I have the opportunity to
finish it? Should I finish it? I found that my earlier resolve had crumpled
once again into the endless game of "should I or shouldn't I?" But how could
I live, knowing that soon all my friends would know what I had been doing
to myself all this time? Knowing that they all knew how weak and disgusting
I was? God, I was so confused.
I was interrupted from my reverie by Sally returning with the filled basin,
which she set down on the table next to me. She pulled over a chair and a
tray of first aid supplies and sat down in front of me. Taking hold of my
left arm, she dipped a cloth in the basin and began to gently clean out the
cuts, wiping away the dried blood. As careful as she was being, I couldn't
help but flinch every time the cloth came into contact with my skin.
Without taking her eyes off her work, Sally began to speak. "It's still
earlier on L4, so when we're done here, Heero will give Quatre a call, and
he'll contact the hospital about setting up an appointment for you,
hopefully for tomorrow, okay?"
I looked up from watching her clean my arm, confused. "An appointment?
You're not locking me up?"
She looked up at me, startled. "No, Duo, of course not. It is a psychiatric
hospital, but they have an extensive outpatient program. The appointment is
an evaluation of sorts, for you and the doctor to decide together what the
best course of action is. We would never just throw you into a hospital,
Duo. I know we've failed you so far, but we are your friends." She resumed
her work, a slight quaver to her hands. She finished cleaning my arm, and
began to apply an antibiotic cream, along with steri-strips to hold the
deeper gashes closed. She finished by wrapping the arm in gauze. Then the
whole process started over with my right arm.
I felt so guilty. I'd gone and assumed the worst from them. They were only
trying to help. I didn't deserve friends like them. It was too bad that they
didn't understand that. I was a horrible, despicable person, and all I was
doing was causing them pain with my shit. After all, it wasn't really their
fault that they hadn't seen behind my mask. I chose to wear it, and they
just accepted it at face value. Who could blame them? Maybe, even without
knowing the truth, they had subconsciously sensed what a disgusting loser I
was, and had kept their distance accordingly. Now they were finding out the
truth. I hadn't seen disgust from Sally, Hilde, and Heero yet, but surely
they were simply in shock, having just found out. Once the information had
sunk in, they'd change their tune. Maybe even change their minds about
throwing me in the loonie bin.
I observed Sally as she worked quickly but gently, moving on now to my left
thigh. These crazy thoughts were getting me nowhere. I longed for the mental
cotton of the drug Sally had given me earlier, which had been all too
fleeting. Instead, I concentrated on the needles of pain that were
sprinkling my skin under Sally's ministrations. Yes, feel the pain, don't
think about anything else.
Finally, she was done. As I looked down at my gauze-wrapped limbs, I
realized that I looked like half a mummy.
Sally quickly cleaned up the supplies she'd been using, and dumped out the
basin in the sink. "I'll go see if I can find you some clean boxers, since
those have blood on them." She left the room, and returned only a moment
later. "Here we go," she said as she handed me a pair of white boxers. "I
knew that there were usually some in with the scrubs. I'll leave you alone
so you can get dressed. I'll have Heero call Quatre now, and you can join us
out in the waiting room as soon as you're done. We won't tell him about all
of... this quite yet. That's something that should be done in person." She
paused, and then smiled at me reassuringly. I'm not sure if it was me she
was trying to reassure, or herself. Probably both. "Everything's going to be
okay, Duo." With that she left the room again, shutting the door behind her.
I sighed deeply. I didn't think anything would ever be okay. Moving
carefully, I changed my boxers and then pulled my other clothes back on.
After being cleaned and poked and prodded, all my cuts were absolutely
radiating pain. Once again, I tried to focus my mind on it, clearing away
all other unpleasant thoughts. But as I finished buttoning my shirt, my eyes
fell on the medical supply cabinet, and some unpleasant thoughts began to
seep in. I went closer to peer in at the contents through the glass door.
There was a box of scalpels, caps over the blades to protect their
sharpness. Heero and Hilde had probably packed my toiletry bag, but I
couldn't remember if there were any razor blades left in it. Without even
realizing it, I was opening the cabinet door, and had slipped one of the
scalpels into my pocket. Just in case I needed it. Whether simply to cut
more, or to finish what I'd started earlier tonight, I wasn't sure. But I
felt better just having it.
Not two seconds after I closed the cabinet, the door opened and Heero stood
there, looking uncomfortable. He peered at me, frowning.
"Are you ready to go?" he asked.
I rubbed my hands wearily over my face, suddenly feeling incredibly tired
and drained, both physically and emotionally. I grimaced from the pain that
movement caused in my arms, and Heero's frown deepened.
"I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be," I replied, my voice sounding
hollow.
From the clinic it was only another short drive to the shuttle bay, and
before I knew it, we were on our way to L4. When I had woken up only a
couple of hours ago, I had been in complete despair, and had been about to
take my life. But now three of my friends knew my worst secret, the rest
were about to find out, and I was on my way to have an "evaluation" with
some psychiatrist. I was so confused and blown away by the events of the
past couple of hours that it hurt to think about it. So I sat on the
shuttle, hugging my arms around myself so that I could feel the needles of
pain, with the reassuring presence of the scalpel in my pocket digging
slightly into my hip, and staring out the window at the vastness of space,
and my uncertain future.
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***
Part 10
As the shuttle got closer and closer to L4, I felt panic starting to set
in. I couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that I was sitting on a private
Winner Corporation shuttle with Heero, Hilde, and Sally, on my way to a
psych evaluation. It still didn't feel entirely real that the three of them
knew about the cutting, but it was starting to sink in, surely and
painfully. And before the evaluation, we would be going to Quatre's, and he
and Trowa would find out as well. My hangover was also coming back with a
vengeance, causing my stomach to make unpleasant flip-flops. I'm sure it's
possible that it was more than just the hangover that was making me
nauseous. I tried to remain calm, pressing my bandaged arms so tightly
against my body that I had to grit my teeth to keep from crying out, but it
wasn't working. Heero, seated next to me, had noticed my distress. He
frowned at me.
"Are… are you okay?" He sounded so awkward, so unsure of himself. Not like
himself at all. I took a deep but shaky breath, and actually managed to
flash some kind of grin at him. I probably looked like a maniac.
"Fine, fine, I'm just fine. Just have to ah, go to the washroom," I hastily
replied, my voice lilting crazily. I fumbled with my seatbelt, my hands
feeling strangely numb. I finally managed to unclasp it, and I lurched out
of the seat and all-but fled down the aisle to the washroom. I could
practically feel three pairs of eyes burning into my back as I went.
I ducked into the small room and slammed the door behind me. I locked it
and leaned back against the cool steel. I was suddenly aware of how hot I
felt. Sweat was dripping down my forehead. Calm. Calm. You have to calm
DOWN! I scolded myself. I leaned forward over the sink, my hands gripping
the sides so tightly that my knuckles were white. My whole body was
trembling. I stared at my face in the mirror. God, I looked like crap. My
skin was pasty, my eyes looked hollow and sunken, and my hair was a greasy
mess.
I knew how to make the shaking stop. How to ease the tension, clear my
mind, and make everything better.... My hand still shaking, I slowly
withdrew the scalpel from my pocket. I stared at the blade. Already my mind
was slowing down, focusing. With no thought at all my other hand reached up
and removed the clear plastic cover that protects the blade. It was wickedly
sharp, glinting under the fluorescent light. My breathing was slowing, my
whole body relaxing. I felt almost... hypnotized.
There was a sharp banging on the door, and I jumped, torn from my reverie.
"Duo, are you okay in there?" It was Heero, still sounding so damned unsure
of himself.
I shook my head, bringing my hand up to rub my temple. What had just
happened? I stared at the scalpel gripped in my other hand, realization
dawning. My legs suddenly feeling rubbery, I sank to my knees. What the hell
was wrong with me? I shook my head again, this time in disbelief and horror.
Had I really been about to cut? Here? Now? Was I absolutely fucking
INSANE??? After what had happened today, and with my friends right on the
other side of the door, KNOWING about the cutting, I had almost done it
again. Had I seriously thought I'd be able to hide a new cut from them, NOW?
"Duo?" Heero's voice was louder, sounding more urgent. The knob jiggled.
"I'm fine!" I called back, my own voice sounding strained and maybe a
little hysterical. Trembling more than ever I hastily replaced the cover and
shoved the scalpel back into my pocket. I sat back on my haunches, wrapping
my arms around my body, feeling the needles of pain from all the cuts.
Suddenly I felt so cold, the sweat from only moments ago chilling my body.
How could I have been about to do that? How could even I be that stupid? I
fell forward a bit, my head banging lightly against the sink. Stupid,
stupid, STUPID! I banged my head again, harder.
"Duo, open the door," Heero ordered, sounding calm and reasonable. Oh,
yeah, I was definitely feeling hysterical now. My eyes burned, and a few
tears started to track down my face. God, I remembered a time not all that
long ago when I never cried. Now it seemed like I was doing it all the time.
I couldn't stop shaking. Why the hell couldn't I stop shaking? This was a
nightmare. How had things ended up like this? I rocked forward, banging my
head harder still. It felt good. Reassuring. Real. I banged my head again.
There were voices shouting now, but I didn't pay them any attention, I just
kept rocking my body back and forth, hitting my head, trying to stop
shaking, trying to stop crying, trying to stop feeling like this, all
unsuccessfully. Suddenly, my nausea reared its head. I quickly crawled over
to the toilet, just making it as I started to retch.
Dimly I was aware of more voices and shouting, and the door suddenly
slamming open. Then Hilde was kneeling beside me, one hand stroking my back
while the other wiped my bangs from my sweaty forehead. I still hadn't eaten
anything, so I was dry heaving again. There are few things in the world that
feel as awful as dry heaving. Trust me. It felt like my stomach would turn
inside out. I would, in fact, not have been terribly surprised to see my
entire digestive tract come spilling out of my mouth.
"Here," Sally said, handing Hilde a glass of water. She pressed it to my
lips and I gratefully took a few swallows, turning my head to throw it back
up into the toilet. It felt much better than dry heaving. We repeated the
process a few more times until finally, after what seemed like an eternity,
the fit passed, and I was able to keep the water down. I sat back, leaning
against the cupboard, my knees drawn up to my chest. I closed my eyes, my
breath coming in short gasps. Someone wiped a cool cloth across my face.
"If you were sick you should have said something back at the clinic, Duo, I
could have given you something," Sally said.
I gave a short hysterical bark of laughter and opened my eyes. Hilde was
still kneeling on the floor, damp cloth in hand. Sally and Heero were
standing just inside the doorway, seeming to tower over me in the cramped
quarters of the crowded washroom. I couldn't stand to look any of them in
the eye, so I lowered my head and shut my eyes again. Maybe this was all a
bad dream. Maybe I would wake up soon, back in my own bed, and no one would
ever look at me the way the three of them were looking at me now.
"Well," I finally answered, hating how thin my voice sounded, "I had...
other things on my mind at the clinic." Nobody had anything to say to that.
Heero and Hilde helped me to my feet, and we all returned to our seats. I
leaned heavily on Heero as we walked down the aisle, since I was feeling
light-headed and my steps were unsure. I was still trembling, whether from
lingering nausea or for some other, less tangible reason, I could not say.
We spent the remainder of the trip in an awkward silence. I stared out the
window. I had never felt so drained in my life. I still couldn't believe
that this was happening to me. And very soon we would arrive at our
destination, and Quatre and Trowa would find out, too. How could I have let
my life reach this point? I should have quietly ended it all as soon as I
was no longer needed to fight the war. I had no other purpose, after all. It
had been stupid to linger, living a pathetic half-life. I should never have
given the others a chance to find out. They didn't need this. They deserved
better. I should have disappeared, never to be heard from again, or arranged
an "accident" or something. They would have grieved and moved on. They
didn't deserve to have to deal with this shit. How could I do this to them?
The shuttle was docking. "Quatre said he'd meet us here, with a car to take
us back to the estate," Heero said. Panic welled up in me again. This was
really happening. Quatre, sweet, innocent Quatre was going to find out I cut
myself, had been going to kill myself. My pulse raced, blood pounding in my
ears.
"I can't tell him," I said suddenly, knowing that they would know exactly
what I was talking about. "One of you do it. I can't." If I thought I had a
chance in hell of convincing them, I would have begged them not to tell him
at all, but I knew it was pointless so I didn't bother.
"Don't worry about it," Hilde replied, patting my hand reassuringly, and I
wanted to cry. Again. None of this should be happening. She shouldn't be
here. None of us should be here. I should be dead, and they should be going
about their own lives.
I was still unsteady on my feet, so Heero helped me again as we left the
shuttle. Outside in the shuttle bay I groaned as I spotted Quatre. Not only
had Trowa come with him, but Wufei was with him, too. Oh God. The three of
them gaped openly at my appearance. What can I say? I really looked like
crap. Worse even than the last time they had seen me, fleeing from Quatre's
desert estate on Earth after the disastrous party. Old instincts kicking in,
I actually tried to smile at them. It didn't really work, coming out as more
of a grimace than a grin.
"Hey, guys. How's it hanging?" I croaked weakly, my voice thin and ragged.
Oh God, this was going to be bad.
Quatre stepped forward hesitantly, his eyes shining. I realized with a
start that he was holding back tears. Suddenly he threw his arms around me
in a tight embrace. I couldn't hold back a small cry as pain shot out from
my arms, but I hugged him back just as tightly all the same. Quatre was
happy to see me. Quatre had been worried about me, just like the others. It
still didn't feel real. I didn't deserve friends like them. Mostly, they
didn't deserve to have to deal with me. Yet again, tears were burning in my
eyes. Duo Maxwell, the weepy mess. Who would've guessed?
Quatre drew back slightly, his eyes searching my face. He was probably
wondering why I had cried out, and why I was now trembling in his grip.
"I'm sorry," I murmured, unable to meet his gaze. I was too ashamed.
"For what?" he asked, clearly confused.
"I don't know," I replied, my voice dangerously close to breaking.
"Everything?" I finally looked up and let my eyes meet his, but only for a
moment, and then I had to look away again. Before I did, I saw him
practically flinch at the anguish he must have seen in my eyes. He turned to
look at Heero, who I suddenly realized was standing right next to me. Heero
shook his head curtly, presumably meaning that he would explain things
later. His face was grim.
Quatre frowned, and it looked completely alien on his face. Now it was my
turn to flinch, since it was my fault that he was frowning. He quickly
regained his composure though, and smiled warmly.
"Well, it's been a long day, and I'm sure you're all... tired, so let's go
home, all right? Rashid has a van waiting for us." He turned and grasped
onto Trowa's arm as if looking for support. I looked at Trowa and Wufei,
having forgotten for a moment that they were even there. Wufei was staring
at me in open-mouthed shock. It was almost funny. Trowa simply regarded me
with a look of quiet understanding. I remembered that he had looked at me
the same way the last time that I had seen him. I gave him a weak smile and
he returned it.
The drive to Quatre's was short and seemed to go by in a blur. As we walked
into the main foyer, I remarked to myself that after over six months of
avoiding everyone I knew, here I found myself a guest in one of Quatre's
estates, surrounded by friends, for the second time in two weeks. My doubts
about how much they really cared for me clamoured for attention in the back
of my mind, but they had to care, didn't they? Everything that happened
today had to prove that, right? I remembered Hilde's tears, Heero's concern,
Quatre's warmth, and for that moment at least, I believed. But those doubts
still wouldn't be completely quiet.
"Would anyone like anything to eat or drink before you retire? Or maybe
you'd like to wash up?" Quatre asked, ever the considerate host. I grimaced
at the mention of food, but Sally spoke up.
"You really should eat something, Duo. Perhaps just some dry toast?"
I sighed. I didn't have the strength to argue with her. "Fine. What I'd
really like is a shower, but I can't really...." I let my voice trail off,
suddenly not wanting to elaborate with Quatre, Trowa, and Wufei present that
I had bandages all over my limbs that I couldn't get wet. "Even just to wash
my hair in the sink or something, but I don't think that would work,
either...," I mused, mostly to myself. I'd still get my arms wet, not to
mention that I just couldn't move my arms as much as that would require.
"I'll wash your hair," Heero said. Every last person in the room stared at
him.
"Huh?" I said intelligently, blinking at him.
He shifted, uncomfortable now that he was under everyone's scrutiny. "I'll
wash your hair in the sink. Okay?"
"Um... okay," I murmured, too stunned to argue with him.
Quatre showed us to our rooms upstairs, purposely giving Heero and I
adjoining rooms with a shared bathroom, featuring a nice big sink. After
digging through one of the bathroom cupboards for a moment, he produced a
white hose, and showed Heero that by attaching one end over the tap, it
became a shower attachment. He gave us one last smile, said someone would be
bringing toast and juice up to my room, and bid us good night.
Heero and I stood there awkwardly for a moment. Finally I grabbed my
shampoo and conditioner out of my bag, glad that one of them, probably
Hilde, had thought to pack it. I set them next to the sink, and then removed
my hair tie and tried to brush out my gnarled, greasy braid. I looked up,
startled, when Heero moved forward and took the brush from my hand. He must
have seen how much pain it was causing me to move my arms so much. He
resumed brushing my hair, and he was surprisingly gentle. I sighed, closing
my eyes. I couldn't remember the last time someone had brushed my hair for
me. It must have been Sister Helen, and I felt a pang in my heart when I
pictured her kind, gentle face. What would she and Father Maxwell think of
me now?
I realized that Heero had managed to untangle all of my hair. Without a
word, I leaned over the sink, and Heero turned on the water and began
running the shower attachment over my hair, soaking it. It felt heavenly.
I was practically purring under his touch. Again, he was surprisingly gentle
as he worked the shampoo in, his fingers massaging my scalp. I breathed in
the strawberry scent, actually relaxing a bit for the first time in God
knows how long. He rinsed the shampoo out, and then repeated the entire
process with the conditioner. I sat back on the closed lid of the toilet as
he toweled my hair dry. He even combed it out afterwards without once
pulling on a snag. I was strangely disappointed when he was finished. I
slowly opened my eyes, feeling like I was waking from a dream.
I looked up at him. He was staring down at me intently. He hadn't spoken
once the entire time. "Thank you," I said softly, and I wasn't just speaking
about my hair. He nodded, understanding. Then he turned and went through the
adjoining door to his room. I sighed deeply. I rose and gave my pale, gaunt
face one last look in the mirror before entering my own room.
As promised, there was a tray with a glass of orange juice and two pieces
of dry toast waiting for me. I sat on the bed and drank the juice, grimacing
as I nibbled on the toast, wondering how the hell I had gotten myself into
this mess. And if there was any way to get myself out of it.
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***
Part 11
To say that I felt like crap the when I woke the next day would be an
understatement. I turned over in bed, and tried to remember when was the
last time that I hadn't woken up feeling like complete and utter shit. I
couldn't. I turned over again, and my face was buried in my hair. I breathed
in the lingering scent of my strawberry shampoo, and I suddenly remembered
how Heero had washed my hair. It felt... strange thinking about that, so I
quickly moved on. I looked at the digital clock resting on the nightstand.
It was 10:43 am. I didn't know how long I'd been in bed. I wasn't sure what
the local time had been when we'd arrived on L4, and I hadn't checked the
clock when I finally collapsed into bed last night.
I had slept fitfully. If I had not been so emotionally drained I'm sure I
wouldn't have slept at all. I had woken a couple of times, tossing and
turning restlessly. On one of those occasions, I had thought I'd seen Heero
sitting in the desk chair, watching me, but it must have been a dream. My
gaze traveled to the chair, which was in its proper position, tucked into
the desk and facing away from the bed. Yes, a dream. Why would Heero have
been watching me sleep, after all?
I groaned and rolled over yet again, wincing. My arms and legs absolutely
ached, a mix of needle-sharp prickling sensations and the itch that signaled
some of the older cuts were starting to heal. I didn't want to get out of
bed. I didn't want to face everyone. I didn't want to go to a psych
evaluation. I wanted this all to be a bad dream. I wanted my whole damn life
to be just a bad dream.
I dragged myself to a sitting position as I heard a door close down the
hall, and footsteps disappear down the stairs. Some people, at least, were
up and about. If I didn't get up soon, someone would probably be in here
looking for me. Making sure I hadn't hung myself with the bedsheets in the
middle of the night. I climbed out of bed reluctantly. I didn't want anyone
to come in here and see me in just my boxers. Only Sally had seen the extent
of the damage, and I intended to keep it that way. The others seeing the
bandages and knowing just how much I had cut myself would not be beneficial
to my new plan.
That's right, I now had a plan. One that even I knew was probably not
terribly smart, but I was desperate and I didn't know what else to do. Last
night I decided that I would shield my friends from all this… shit. If I
acted like it was all no big deal, then maybe they would, too. I would act
"normal", go to the doctor, and convince my friends that everything was
okay, and that I was better. Then they would leave me alone again, and I
wouldn't be hurting them anymore. I couldn't stand to see them looking at me
like they had been yesterday. So I would act how they expected me to act,
and then they wouldn't look at me like that again.
Of course, I had no idea how I was going to make this work. It was me doing
such a bang-up job of acting "normal" at Quatre's last time that started
this whole mess. And they hadn't known then. My mind fled from pondering
this. The plan had to work. I couldn't accept the possibility that it
wouldn't. I had just been tired, off my game. I can be exceedingly good at
pretending to be happy when I have to be. I'd done it convincingly enough
throughout the whole war, hadn't I? Yes, I could handle this. I would.
There was no other option.
The biggest problem was how I'd acted yesterday. I grimaced, remembering
what a weepy, hysterical mess I'd been in front of Hilde, Heero, and Sally.
It would be toughest to convince them that I was okay, that it had been a
one-time thing. I still couldn't believe I'd cried in front of them. I
never cry. At least that's what I like to tell myself. I couldn't let it
happen again.
Crazy plan, huh? But then again, I never claimed to be thinking straight.
First things first. I wrinkled my nose at how gross I felt. I really would
have loved to get a shower, but it just wasn't possible right then. I hadn't
felt this dirty since my days as a street rat. I must have been getting
spoiled to have even noticed how rank I was getting, though I guess teenage
boys are more, shall we say, "fragrant" than little kids. At least my hair
was clean, and once again I deftly avoided thinking about just how my hair
had gotten clean. I trudged into the bathroom, found a washcloth, and
proceeded to scrub every part of me that could be comfortably reached and
wasn't swathed in bandages. It hurt my arms terribly, but it had to be done.
I even managed to brush out my hair, though there was no way I was going to
manage to braid it myself. Maybe Hilde or Heero... would do it. I did
feel better, though, just being a bit clean.
I returned to my room and pulled on the first clothes I pulled out of my
bag, which were, unsurprisingly, black and priest-style. I took the scalpel
out of the pocket of the pants I'd worn yesterday and stared at it for a
moment. As much as I wanted to take it with me, I knew it would be crazy.
With a lump in my throat I tucked it safely away in my bag. I ducked back
into the bathroom to grab my brush and my hair tie, and to give myself one
last appraisal before joining the others. I composed myself, drawing deep
breaths, and let my mask slip into place. It had been awhile, but it was
familiar, this mask, too familiar, and I knew then that I really could make
this work. I could convince my friends that yes, I was sick, but it was only
temporary and soon I would be just fine again. I opened my eyes and turned
to face the mirror.
I studied my reflection critically. Still too pale and thin, eyes looking
hollow, but if I forced myself to eat then I knew that soon I wouldn't look
quite so haggard. "I am Duo Maxwell," I said out loud. "I am a Gundam pilot.
I am Shinigami. I do not cry, I do not become hysterical, and I most
definitely do not fall to pieces. I am a happy person." I grinned
wickedly, and if it wasn't for the gauntness of my face, I could almost
believe that it was just as convincing as every other false grin I'd ever
flashed my friends.
As I made my way downstairs I heard voices coming from what had to be the
dining room. It seemed that the others were just sitting down to either a
very late breakfast or an early lunch. I couldn't help but pause outside the
door and listen for a moment. I remembered ruefully how I had done much the
same thing the morning after the disastrous party.
"Maybe someone should go see if he's up yet?" Quatre was asking, his voice
laced with concern.
"He needs rest. If he's still sleeping we should let him be for now. The
appointment is at one, so if he's still sleeping at noon someone should wake
him then," Sally responded.
"You still haven't told us what happened yesterday," Wufei said. There was
a pause during which no one spoke. Just as it seemed the silence would
stretch on forever Hilde spoke up.
"Well," she began hesitantly, "I'm not really sure what to tell you. Duo
did say he would prefer for us to tell you than for him to do it himself.
But he didn't say whether or not he wanted to be here when you were told."
"Surely there is something you can tell us? You can't just show up with
Duo looking like... like that and not tell us anything." Wufei pressed,
sounding irritated. I could almost picture the vein on his temple starting
to throb. I actually had to repress a snicker. It always amazed me that even
when I was feeling my lowest, I can still usually find humor in things. And
I could laugh. Really laugh. I didn't understand it. What kind of sense does
it make that someone who seriously contemplates suicide could be able to
laugh? Maybe it's what lent a much-needed air of credibility to my joker's
mask. I really could laugh in the face of death.
I heard Hilde sigh. "We showed up at Duo's apartment early yesterday
evening and things were... bad. Really bad. We argued, but eventually Duo
agreed to come with us. It was necessary to stop by Sally's clinic before we
left L2. That's all I'm really comfortable saying without talking to Duo
first."
"We understand that, Hilde, it's just that we are concerned." Quatre said.
He sounded very tired. "I know that it was best for just the three of you to
go, no matter how much I wanted to go with you. I can't even begin to say
how on edge I was here, waiting to hear from you. And then when Heero called
from the clinic, I didn't know what to think."
"We certainly didn't mean to worry you all further. It's just that certain
things are best discussed... face to face." Sally replied.
"It is really bad, isn't it?" Quatre sounded distraught, and guilt tore
through my heart. His voice lowered then, to barely above a whisper, and I
had to strain to catch his words. They made every muscle in my body freeze.
"Did... did he try to... kill himself?" He was met with silence.
I decided I had listened long enough. I took a deep breath, forced myself
to relax, pasted a bright smile on my face, and strode into the room.
"Good morning! And how is everyone this fine day? I hope there's lots of
food to go around, I'm famished!" I said, surprising even myself with just
how cheerful I sounded. Everyone was looking at me as if I had two heads,
and believe me, that was a funny expression to see on Wufei's face. I
grinned. "What, cat got everyone's tongues?" I seated myself between Hilde
and Sally, and across from Quatre.
"D-Duo?" Hilde asked, staring at me wide-eyed.
"You were expecting someone else?" I joked easily. At least it seemed as if
it was easy. In reality, I don't think I'd ever felt more on edge in my
life. Everyone was staring at me. Three of those people knew, knew the
most shameful thing about me. The others were about to find out. It was
going to take my best performance to play this down. But hearing the pain in
Quatre's voice as he had uttered those last few words had reminded me why it
was important to do so. My resolve was hardened, and I would not fail.
"Of course not, it's just that I wasn't expecting... well, frankly I just
wasn't expecting you to be in such a… good mood this morning," she finally
replied.
"Because of yesterday? Oh, that, yeah, I haven't... been well. I really
hadn't been feeling well for a few months and I guess it all caught up to
me." I didn't feel the need to mention that those few months could more
accurately be described as a couple of years. "But it's not like the end of
the world or anything, you know? I'm sorry I freaked you guys out. I'll go
see the doctor, and I'm sure he or she'll be able to help me out and
everything will be fine." I hoped I sounded sufficiently flippant.
"Duo, this is really serious. You can't just brush it off like this. You
don't have to pretend that everything is fine. We were in fact just
discussing with the others what happened yesterday...," Sally began, but I
cut her off.
"Oh, that," I gave my best embarrassed laugh. "It's really rather
embarrassing. I can't believe you guys saw me like that." I forced myself to
grin, and I practically had to spit out my next words. "You can go ahead and
tell the others, no secrets amongst friends, right?" Another embarrassed
laugh. "Geez, I really don't know what came over me. Nothing like that's
ever happened to me before." The lie tasted bitter, though I tried to tell
myself it was just a white lie, that it was for their own good. I still knew
it was a lie. "And I'm not brushing it off. I know it's serious. I'm here,
aren't I? I'm going to the doctor. It's just not the big deal you seem to
think it is. Everyone doesn't feel well now and then, right?" I poured
myself a glass of orange juice, studiously ignoring Sally's gaze.
"I don't know what you're trying to pull, Duo, but it's not going to work.
We are all your friends here. You don't have to hide from us. You don't have
to be embarrassed or ashamed of what happened yesterday. It's not going to
change how anyone feels for you." Sally said softly.
I swallowed hard. "Hey, who's trying to hide? I'm here, I'm going to see
the doctor like you wanted. It's not like I did it on purpose. Like I said,
I hadn't been feeling well, and I had been drinking too much, not smart, I
know. I didn't know what I was doing. Man, you don't really think I meant to
do it, do you? That it's like, a serious problem?" I forced out some
laughter, though it sounded a bit more nervous than I had intended. I
started helping myself to the scrambled eggs piled in a serving dish.
"You don't expect us to believe it was an accident, do you?" Sally asked in
disbelief.
"For Heaven's sake, what are you talking about? What happened yesterday?
Why did you have to go to the clinic?" Quatre suddenly cried out, startling
everybody. Silence reigned for a few moments.
"Duo... hurt himself," Heero said, speaking up for the first time. I looked
at him. He looked back at me, his face expressionless, except perhaps that
his lips seemed firmly pressed together. And, well, he seemed to be looking
at me rather... intensely. I quickly turned away, flushing slightly.
Wufei's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean... hurt himself?"
I swallowed hard again. It was taking all of my self control not to bolt
from the room. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this... I repeated
the words in my head like a mantra.
Heero didn't seem forthcoming with any more information, so Hilde spoke up,
her voice strained and barely above a whisper. "He c-cut up his arms... all
over his arms, with a razor blade," That's right, she hadn't seen my thighs,
only Sally had. "Right before we showed up, he had been cutting his w-wrist,
he was going to...,"
"No!" I snapped, startling everyone again. "I wasn't trying to kill
myself!"
"B-but you even said..."
"No, I wasn't trying to kill myself. I was still half-drunk if I said
otherwise, or you just misunderstood me! I don't know why I... I... did what
I did," I couldn't bring myself to say the words. "But I'm not suicidal or
anything!" I made myself laugh. The air in the room was just getting too
tense.
"You... cut up your arms?" Quatre asked, his voice hollow, his expression
pained.
I closed my eyes briefly. God, this was horrible. "Yes," I admitted, my
stomach twisting. "But it's never happened before and it most certainly
won't happen again! And I wasn't trying to kill myself. I was sick, out of
it. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't do it on purpose!" I insisted,
using all of my self control to keep the desperation out of my voice. God, I
hated lying.
"What about the scars...," Sally began.
"So I have scars, so what?" I snapped, sounding a lot more irritable than I
liked. "Everyone sitting at this table has scars from the war. Before that I
lived on the street, and life could be rough. It's nothing!" I smiled,
hoping I looked convincing.
"Nothing!? But-" Sally argued.
"It's nothing!" I repeated vehemently, keeping the smile on my face so that
I didn't look desperate. "I had a bad.. incident, but I'm all bandaged up,"
I waved my arms about in the air a bit for emphasis, managing not to wince.
"But everything's okay. Oh, that reminds me. Hilde, would you mind?" I
asked, holding the hairbrush out to her and producing the hair tie from my
pocket.
"Oh, um, sure," she replied, looking dazed. She rose and stood behind me,
brushing and then braiding my hair. Silence reigned in the room for the time
being. I forced myself to eat some of the food I'd piled on my plate, though
I was anything but hungry, and I tried not to think about how nice it would
have been to have Heero braid my hair. I was glad the hoped for distraction
of Hilde braiding my hair had worked, and I took this opportunity to study
the others. Sally looked to be quietly fuming, but then I'd suspected she'd
be hardest to sway. She was a doctor, and she'd seen the damage, cleaned and
bandaged it even. Wufei and Quatre were both picking at their food, both
looking terribly confused, like they didn't know what to think. Quatre also
looked like he might be trying to keep himself from crying, and I felt bad
about that. Trowa looked as unaffected as usual, though he did reach out to
rub Quatre's back in a reassuring manner. Quatre smiled at him gratefully.
Trowa's eyes met mine briefly, and yet again I was struck by the quiet
understanding I saw there. Heero had returned to eating, though he kept
glancing at me with narrowed eyes that made my heart flutter uncomfortably.
The silence was beginning to weigh on me. "So, uh, Quatre, how's business?"
I asked as cheerfully as I could manage. Quatre looked up, looking grateful
for the distraction. We spent the rest of the meal that way, in mindless
chatter about trivial things. At least, Quatre and I did, with the others
adding the occasional comment. I could tell that they still felt
uncomfortable. I couldn't blame them. I can honestly say that I'd never felt
more awkward in my life, but I think I covered it well.
Eventually, it came time to leave for the hospital. It seemed that everyone
was going. I didn't know why everyone felt the need to go, but I didn't
argue, as that may have suggested that I was uncomfortable with the
situation. I most certainly was, but they couldn't know that. I continued to
act as lighthearted as possible as we all piled into one of Quatre's limos,
even though I felt like I was on my way to an execution.
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***
Part 12
During the short trip to the hospital, I chattered incessantly, though
the
only ones who offered the occasional response were Quatre and Hilde.
The
others seemed lost in their own little worlds. The breakfast I'd eaten
felt
like a lump of stone in my stomach, and I was feeling nauseous again. I
kept
punctuating my chatter by waving my hands around, even though it hurt
my
arms terribly, because when I tried to hold my hands still, they
trembled.
In short, I was a nervous wreck.
All too soon the limo pulled to a stop in front of an unremarkable
fake-brick building. The sign out front proclaimed it to be the Everett
Psychiatric Hospital. I swallowed, my mouth feeling quite suddenly very
dry.
I had a moment's panic when I thought that maybe they had lied, maybe
they
really were going to just leave me here or something. I quickly pushed
that
paranoid thought aside, though I was still, well, scared. I couldn't
think
of a single time in my life when I had been as scared as I was right at
that
moment.
Though we were only going to the outpatient wing, we still had to go
through some pretty heavy security, and we were issued clip-on passes
that
identified us as visitors. All of it was just making me more and more
uncomfortable. What was I doing here? Just visiting or not, I didn't
belong
here amongst crazy people that needed to be kept under lock and key,
did I?
I… I wasn't like them, was I?
"These things should say 'Sane', not 'Visitor'," I joked weakly,
flicking
the blue pass clipped onto my shirt. No one laughed.
After security there was a reception area. Sally spoke briefly with a
stern-looking woman who sat in a cubicle surrounded by plexiglass. She
passed a clipboard to Sally through the small rectangular slot at
counter-level. I eyed Sally suspiciously as she began to fill out the
forms,
fears of being committed rising once again.
"What are those?" I asked, my eyes narrowing. She looked up.
"I'm the referring physician. I just have to fill in some information
on
your medical history and the reason for the referral. It'll just take a
moment," she replied. We waited in awkward silence while Sally quickly
filled out the forms. Once she was finished, she spoke to the
receptionist
again, asking for directions, and then finally, she turned to us.
"Dr. Mitchell's office is down this hallway and to the left," she
said,
indicating the corridor to our right. Without a word, we started to
walk
towards the doctor's office. It is... nearly impossible to describe
what I
was feeling right then. I was walking down the hallway of a mental
hospital,
on my way to see a psychiatrist. I was accompanied by six of my
friends.
They had just discovered that I was not exactly the person they thought
I
was. Despite my efforts at damage control, the fact remained that they
knew that I had cut myself. Even if they believed that that was the
one
and only time, they still knew. Lord knows what was going through
their
minds. It all felt so unreal. Terrifyingly, suffocatingly, all-too-real
unreal. If you know what I mean.
We arrived in front of a door marked 'Dr. Valerie Mitchell', and Sally
knocked. She was answered by a heavyset woman who looked to be in her
mid-thirties. She wore a white lab coat and wire-frame glasses. Her
bright
red hair was twisted into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. She
smiled
brightly, though she did look a little confused by the large number of
people outside her door.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Sally Po. I referred a patient to you, Duo Maxwell,"
Sally
said, gesturing towards me when she mentioned my name.
"Oh, yes! The last-minute call yesterday from a Mr. Winner, I
believe," Dr.
Mitchell exclaimed. She peered at me over her glasses for a moment
before
turning back to Sally. "You have the referral forms?" she asked. Sally
held
up the clipboard in confirmation. "Great!" She turned back to me,
holding
out her hand. "Duo, I'm Dr. Mitchell, but you can just call me Valerie
if
you like. I'm just going to talk to Dr. Po for a moment and then we'll
talk
for a bit, okay? Why don't you and your, ah, friends take a seat?"
I shook her hand. "No problem," I replied as casually as I could
manage
with my heart threatening to hammer it's way up my throat. It's not
that she
appeared threatening. If anything, she looked and seemed like someone's
ideal doting aunt. But I had just met my psychiatrist. MY psychiatrist.
I
had a psychiatrist. It boggled the mind.
Sally and Dr. Mitchell - I couldn't really imagine calling her Valerie
-
disappeared into the office and the door closed behind them with a
click. An
awkward silence descended over us and we sat on the benches that lined
either side of the hall. I couldn't think of a single witty thing to
say to
lighten the mood. I wondered nervously what Sally was telling the
doctor. My
hands were clenched tightly in my lap to try and keep them from
trembling. I
looked around at my friends and wondered for the thousandth time why
they
had insisted on coming to the hospital, why they had come to Quatre's
at
all. Because they care about you, stupid, they want to support you,
part
of my mind answered. Another part of me balked at that explanation.
There
had been so many times since I'd known them that I would have given
anything
for their support. Where had they been then? On some level I knew it
was
unfair to think that way, but I couldn't help it. It had hurt all
those
countless times that they hadn't noticed how much pain I was in. And
now
they had to go and have it thrown in their faces because I couldn't
hold my
liquor at Quatre's party. Damn, I was such a fuck-up.
"Well, she seems nice," Hilde commented quietly, clearly trying to
break up
the awkward silence. I knew a response would be expected from me. I
summoned
all my energy and flashed a toothy grin.
"Yup, yup, a very nice witch doctor indeed. I'm sure I'll have her
bored in
no time, it's really such a shame she has to waste her time on me
with all
the really sick people running around out there in desperate need of
her
services." I was relieved that I didn't sound half as nervous as I
felt.
Heero cast me a sidelong glance, but didn't say anything. Wufei seemed
to be
studying the floor intently. Quatre offered a half-hearted smile, and I
saw
Trowa squeeze his hand. Just then the door opened and Sally stepped
out,
gesturing me inside. Feeling more nervous than ever, I rose and moved
to
step inside. Sally stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. I looked at
her,
feeling like a deer caught in the headlights but trying not to show it.
"Just be honest, Duo. You don't have to hide anything. She's going to
help
you," Sally said gently. I looked away guiltily, and stepped into the
office, closing the door behind me. I looked around nervously. It was
an
innocuous enough office, bookshelves lining the walls, diplomas hanging
on
the wall, a desk, several comfortable looking chairs, and a couch. Dr.
Mitchell was sitting in one of the chairs, a clipboard in her lap,
smiling
at me welcomingly.
"Have a seat, Duo," she smiled.
"Heh, should I lie on the couch?" I asked, and then nearly winced at
the
lameness of the joke. I bet every nervous person who ever walked into a
psychiatrist's office made that same, predictable joke. She didn't seem
to
mind though, and chuckled lightly.
"Only if you want to. Otherwise you can just sit. Whatever you're most
comfortable with."
Eyeing her warily I took a seat on the couch. I crossed my arms to
hide my
trembling hands and hoped that it didn't look like too much of a
defensive
posture. I even managed not to wince at the pain it caused my wounds.
"Okay. I know this is an awkward situation for you, Duo, but you can
trust
me. I don't expect that to happen right away, after all trust is
something
to be earned, not demanded, but you can be rest assured that whatever
you do
say to me is completely confidential. I can't discuss it with anyone,
even
if I want to, without your permission, or else I'd lose my license,"
she
grinned. I smiled back and tried to relax. I felt like I might be sick
all
over her nice Persian rug. "Getting started is always the hardest part,
so
why don't we just go over what Dr. Po wrote on these referral forms and
go
from there, okay?" she continued brightly.
"Whatever you say, doc," I grinned as cheerily as I could manage. I
could
feel sweat trickling down my temple and wiped at it furiously before
crossing my arms again. Her eyes rested on me for a moment before she
glanced down at the clipboard.
"It says here that your friends first suspected something was wrong
after a
party held at your friend's house almost two weeks ago. You had too
much to
drink and got a little upset. Would you like to talk about that?' she
began.
No, I most definitely did not. But that would make me sound guilty,
right? My mind scrambled for an appropriate comment on the disastrous
party.
Her gaze was gentle but it felt like she was looking right through me.
It
was unnerving.
"Well...," I began slowly, "You're right. I just had too much to
drink. I
made a fool of myself and got sick all over Quatre's nice dance floor.
It's
really very embarrassing," I made myself look appropriately sheepish.
"But
anyone who drinks will overdo it now and then, won't they? Perfectly
normal.
I was just so mortified the next day that I left. My friends mean well,
but
they overreacted, read too much into it. I didn't 'run away' or
anything, I
was just embarrassed. Who wouldn't be?" I made myself stop and draw
breath.
I had been starting to ramble. Dr. Mitchell nodded and wrote something.
I
suddenly wished I had x-ray vision so that I could see through the
clipboard
at what she was writing about me.
"You said your friends 'read too much into it.' Do you think maybe
they
were worried that you'd barely kept in touch for the previous six
months?"
she asked.
Sally really had filled her in on a lot. I fidgeted. Damn my trembling
hands! "Um, well, you know, we all leave busy lives, can't always keep
in
touch. Hilde's taking college courses and all and she's only 16,
Quatre's
got a big corporation to run, the others are busy, too, yeah we've all
been
really busy." Fuck! I had to calm down.
"Oh? And what have you been up to since the war ended? Dr. Po
explained to
me how you all met and your roles in the war. So what have you been
doing,
how have you been holding up?"
I stared at her. I hadn't been doing anything. I'd been living off the
leftovers of my "appropriated" OZ funds, and doing absolutely nothing
useful. I had spent days at a time lying in bed. I had spent hours
staring
at the TV without really seeing it. I had barely eaten, rarely
showered,
rarely even left the apartment since I could have anything I needed
delivered. I had drank too much, too often. I had cut. I had cut a lot.
Six
months of my life had slipped into a black hole. But I couldn't tell
her
that.
She seemed to sense my discomfort and moved on. "So, your friends were
very
worried about what happened. They, ah, tracked you down," she raised an
eyebrow, "and it took them nearly two weeks to do so. Would you like to
talk
about what happened when Dr.Po and two of your other friends showed up
at
your door yesterday?"
I closed my eyes briefly. This was moving too fast. She was going to
ask
about the cutting, about suicide. I wasn't ready to talk about that,
even to
make up some lie. And Sally had probably warned her that I was going to
deny
everything. Damn, damn, damn! I had been so sure this morning that I
could
make this work. I hadn't been in the damn office five minutes and I was
on
the verge of freaking out. I clenched my hands. I hugged my arms
tighter,
feeling the aching pain. It was all I could do not to be sick. I had to
answer, tell her something, anything.
"Look, I'll tell you what I told them this morning. Yesterday was a...
misunderstanding. My friends seem to think I'm seriously depressed and
that
I'm going to off myself or something. They even think I was going to
try to
yesterday!" I tried to make it sound like the most ridiculous notion in
the
world. "What really happened is that I haven't been feeling well for a
while
now. I made the mistake of drinking when I was already physically sick,
and
I guess my body couldn't handle it. So it seems that I did something
really
stupid. I-I... cut my arms some," The words were so hard to say. "I
don't
know why. But that doesn't mean I was trying to kill myself. It's not
like
I'd ever do it again. I'm not crazy! And anything Sally told you I
said,
well, I was still a little out of it, I didn't know what I was saying.
It
doesn't mean anything! I'm not crazy! I don't belong here!" There was
a
note of desperation in my voice that I absolutely hated. So much for
pulling
one over on the shrink.
Dr. Mitchell looked at me levelly for a moment as I practically
panted, my
breathing was so erratic. "You seem rather agitated, Duo, are you
feeling
alright, physically?"
I stared at her. How could I have thought she looked like a doting
aunt? At
that moment I hated her. She was ruining everything. I knew that
thought was
irrational, but it was there nonetheless. "I'm fine," I muttered.
She leaned forward in her chair and looked me straight in the eye.
"You're
obviously not fine, Duo. You're agitated, your hands are trembling, and
I'm
willing to bet you feel like you're about to lose your lunch. Am I
right?" I
glared at her. It was answer enough. She leaned back in the chair, but
didn't break her gaze. "I would guess that you are going through the
symptoms of a minor alcohol withdrawal."
I couldn't stop my jaw from dropping open. What was she implying!?
"I'm not
some drunk who gets the shakes if he doesn't get a drink!" I snapped.
"I
don't drink every day! The past two weeks were unusual...."
"Yes. And you don't think that two weeks of constant alcohol
consumption
would leave you with some level of physical addiction, especially if
you had
been drinking a lot prior to that?" She sounded so calm and reasonable,
like
she was telling me two plus two equals four. But I couldn't deny that
what
she said made sense. I unfolded my arms and looked down at the slight
tremor
in my hands.
"Oh, God," I whispered. I jumped to my feet and started pacing like a
caged
animal. She thought I was agitated before! Ha! "Oh, God!" I yelled.
"Duo, it's alright. A lot of people who are depressed turn to alcohol.
You'll feel better in a day or two. The withdrawal will pass. But it's
important that you not drink anymore." Her voice was still so calm, so
placating.
I stopped pacing and looked at her like she had ten heads. Alright?
How
could anything ever be alright? Like I didn't have enough problems
before,
now she's telling me I'm some kind of alcoholic? "Who said I was
depressed?
I just said I hadn't been feeling well," I muttered darkly, unable to
summon
up a single ounce of cheer, not so much as a half-hearted chuckle.
She gave me a look of infinite patience. "I think it's quite apparent
based
on what Dr. Po has told me. We can work on a more definite diagnosis.
It's
not something to be ashamed of, Duo. It is quite likely that it's
caused by
chemical imbalance. Therapy and medication can help you lead a normal
life,
but you have to take the first step. You have to acknowledge that the
problem exists."
I bristled at her mention of medication. "I don't need pills shoved
down my
throat to make me 'normal'! My life isn't subject to the whims of the
chemicals in my brain! I'm in perfect control! Everything was fine
until two
weeks ago when I went to that fucking party!" I sat down hard. My whole
body
was shaking now, and I knew it wasn't from any withdrawal symptoms. Was
what
she was saying true? Fuck, only this morning I had actually had an
inkling
of hope of fooling everybody that I was fine, including the shrink. It
had
taken her no time at all to make me very upset. Hell, she hadn't even
really
done anything. I was so defensive I was making myself upset. And over
what? I could have sat here and stared at her for an hour, and the
others
would never even know. She certainly couldn't tell them. How had I
managed
to let this get to me so badly, so quickly? Maybe I was crazy enough to
be
locked away in here. My head was a mess, I couldn't think straight at
all.
It was an uncomfortably familiar feeling. A lump formed in my throat
and
there was a cold knot of fear in my stomach.
Dr. Mitchell reached out and took my hand. Her voice was much warmer.
"It's
scary, I know. But it's never going to get any better if you don't let
it
out. Forget about your friends out there for a moment. Can you admit,
out
loud to me right now, that you have a problem?"
I felt the last of my control slip away. Tears pricked at my eyes.
"Yes," I
whispered. God, I was so weak. I hadn't kept my resolve for more than a
couple of hours.
She nodded encouragingly. "These past two weeks, they weren't the
first
time you'd cut yourself, were they?"
I turned my head away from her, shutting my eyes as a few tears
spilled
down over my cheeks. So much for not crying anymore. Another battle
lost in
a matter of hours. "No," I replied, shame and self-loathing
constricting my
heart.
She squeezed my hand. "It's alright, Duo, it's not something to be
ashamed
of." I didn't believe her, not for one second. "You're sick, and the
cutting
is a symptom of your disease. It doesn't make you a bad person, just
someone
who's in a lot of pain and who needs help. I'd like to help you, if
you'll
let me. Will you let me?"
I still didn't look at her, didn't open my eyes. I wanted to crawl
away and
die. My heart was aching so much it felt like my chest was going to
implode.
How had this happened? Why the hell couldn't I just be normal?
"Fine," I
finally replied. I had no choice. To convince the others I was better,
I had
to be seeing a doctor.
"Good. Only a couple more questions and then I think we can wrap it up
for
today. The deep cut you made on your wrist yesterday, was it a suicide
attempt? And do you feel suicidal now?"
Fresh fear stabbed through my chest. They could lock up suicidal
people for
being a danger to themselves, couldn't they? I couldn't let that
happen. I
wiped the tears from my face, but still didn't look at her. "N-no, it
wasn't
like that. When you've been drinking... you can... c-cut deep without
meaning to. It was... an accident." My face was flushed. I couldn't
believe
I was talking about this, that I was saying the words out loud. I don't
care
what she said, how could she not be disgusted by me, by what I'd done?
Dr. Mitchell sighed. Perhaps she didn't believe me. At that point I
didn't
care. There was no way that I was going to admit to anyone that I had
almost killed myself the previous day, and that it was still looking
like a
very attractive option. I shuddered. It was true. I couldn't keep it
together for a few hours. What kind of life was that? I wanted to stop
feeling this way, stop feeling anything if that's what it took.
"Okay, Duo. I think maybe that's enough for today. What do you say to
sessions at 2pm, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays?" she asked.
I finally turned to look at her. Three days a week? Was she kidding?
The
thought of coming here, to this hospital, even once more, let alone
regularly, was enough to make me start weeping. But again, I had no
choice.
I would have to grin and bear it, for the sake of the others.
"Whatever," I
sighed. I felt so tired again, just like yesterday.
"Great!" Her tone had returned to its previous brightness. "I could
have a
nurse change your, ah, bandages if you like."
"No!" I said quickly. "I can do it myself." I certainly didn't want
anyone
seeing that again.
"Are you sure? Bandaging your own arms is not very easy...."
"I've had lots of practice," I said dryly, and then nearly choked.
God, had
I really said that!? She raised an eyebrow, and actually seemed amused,
but
she didn't comment. She handed me a card.
"That's the phone number to the office here, and my emergency pager
number.
Please, make use of either if you feel the need. And if you feel the
urge to
cut, go talk to one of your friends. You don't even have to tell them
about
needing to cut. Just be with another person. Okay?" I nodded
obediently.
"And have a look at these. We can go over them in session tomorrow."
She
handed me a couple of pamphlets. Pamphlets. I resisted the urge to
shake my
head. "So I'll see you tomorrow then. Remember, today was just an
informal
evaluation. Tomorrow the real work will begin." She smiled brightly.
I stood to leave the room, taking deep calming breaths. My hands still
had
a slight tremor to them, but other than that I was fairly composed. As
I
reached for the doorknob, I threw Dr. Mitchell one last look over my
shoulder and sighed. I knew she meant well, but I also knew that she
couldn't help me. No one could help me.
"Thanks," I mumbled to her before turning back to the door. I summoned
a
cheeky grin and stepped out into the hallway. I may have blown it with
the
doctor, but I was still determined to convince the others that there
was
nothing seriously wrong.
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***
Part 13
As I stepped out into the hallway, I stuffed the pamphlets Dr.
Mitchell had given me into my pocket without looking at them. Sally passed me and stepped into the office again, closing the door behind her. Everyone else quickly stood and looked at me expectantly. I eyed the closed door warily before turning to face the others.
"Well, that didn't take too long, how did it go?" Quatre asked, trying to sound cheerful. It took every last shred of my willpower to keep my cheeky grin in place. I was feeling quite shaken from my time with the good doctor, but I couldn't let them know that. My mind scrambled for something to say.
"Oh, it went just fine. She's... nice. She wants me to have sessions three times a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday," It was all I could do not to grimace at that part. I didn't want to come back here,
ever.
Hilde frowned slightly. "Really? So often? Did she say why? Is... is it that serious?"
I had the sudden realization that Hilde was very scared. She was
scared for me. My heart ached, and my grin wavered for a moment. It was so unfair of me to be doing this to her. God, why did they have to find out about all this? Now, when it was too late? I had to shield them, all of them, from this whole damned mess. But I didn't know anymore if I could do it. Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes with the doctor and I had fallen apart, admitted to cutting before. Already it stung that I had allowed that to happen. I shouldn't have told her that! But I still had to try to protect them.
"Apparently it's pretty standard for new patients, you know, get
acquainted and all. No biggie. I told you guys, this is not a big deal. I probably won't even have to see her that long," Damn, I hated lying to them. I wasn't supposed to lie. But I realized then that lying to them wasn't really anything new. Hadn't I been lying to them every time I'd smiled when I wanted to cry, every time I'd laughed when I'd just wanted to scream?
She smiled a little, and seemed reassured. Thank God. Just then Sally stepped back through the door, her face unreadable.
"I guess that's it for today. We can head back to Quatre's. You're expected back here tomorrow at two, Duo," she said.
"I know," I said brightly, successfully fighting back the urge to snap at her. Did she think I was a child? So that was why she'd gone in to see the doctor again, to confirm when my sessions were.
The limo ride back to the Winner estate was uneventful. I
chattered incessantly, as was expected under normal circumstances, though I have no idea what I said. I did notice, however, that Hilde, Quatre, and even Wufei were visibly relaxing little by little. I felt pretty certain that they were buying it. I didn't blame them, not really. It was easier for them to believe that I was the Duo Maxwell that they had always known. That the recent events that had brought us to that point were isolated incidents, well on their way to being taken care of. Sally, on the other hand, spent the ride staring out the window, her face grim, her mouth set in a firm line. Heero and Trowa were as unreadable as always. I had not idea what they were thinking.
When we arrived at the estate, Sally had a message waiting for her, so she left the room to deal with it. The rest of us went to the large living room. There was time to kill before dinner. I wanted nothing more than to retreat to my own room and sleep, but I couldn't. They would expect me to be happy, have energy. I had to keep the mask firmly in place. Besides, maybe a distraction would help.
"Hey, guys, why don't we watch a movie or something? I bet you've got lots of great movies, huh Quatre?" I asked cheerily.
Quatre smiled. "That's a great idea, Duo. I do have quite a lot of movie discs," He walked over to a huge cabinet set in the wall and opened it, revealing row after row of movies. "Why don't we have a look and see if we can find something everyone will enjoy?" Hilde, Trowa and I joined him at the cabinet and started examining the movie titles. Heero and Wufei, apparently not caring which movie we watched, seated themselves on one of the couches.
Sally reappeared. She did not look happy. "That was the clinic.
They're really short-handed, so they couldn't give me any more time off. They need me there tomorrow, so I have to leave for L2 as soon as possible. I'll be back to see how Duo's doing as soon as I can, Saturday at the latest. Thank you for having me, Quatre."
Quatre nodded. "You're welcome, Sally. Thank you for everything. We'll look forward to seeing you again." The others voiced their agreement.
"Duo, could I speak with you alone for a moment before I leave?" Sally asked me. Inwardly I groaned. But outwardly I grinned and nodded. I left the others still perusing the movies as I followed Sally to her room. I felt guilty, but secretly I was very relieved to hear that Sally was leaving. It would be a lot easier to fool the others without her there, doubting my every word.
Once we stepped into her room, she went immediately to her medical bag and started to pull out rolls of gauze, surgical tape, and what looked like tubes of antibiotic cream. She spoke without looking at me.
"When I asked her about it Dr. Mitchell said that you refused to have your bandages changed at the hospital, that you said you could handle it yourself. You'll need these supplies. Are you sure you wouldn't like me to do it for you before I leave?" She finally turned to look at me, her face grim. She knew what the answer would be.
"No, no, that's okay. I can handle it," I replied.
"Fine," she sighed. She moved around the room, throwing the few things she had brought into her travel bag as she continued speaking. "The easiest way to clean up before putting the fresh bandages on would be to shower. I'm sure you're anxious to do that anyway. Make sure you use the antibiotic cream, you don't want to get an infection. Don't forget to change the bandages every day. And
please ask for help if you need it." She was finished packing. She turned to look at me again, a strange look on her face. I realized that she was upset. Fuck, it seemed like I was having that effect on a lot of people lately.
"Everything's going to be okay, Sally." I tried to look reassuring. She gave me an incredulous look. The next thing I knew she had thrown her arms around me, though gently, being mindful of putting too much pressure on my arms. I was shocked. Sally had never hugged me before. The only person who had since... since the Maxwell Church was Hilde. I had playfully slung my arms around other people's shoulders, but no one except her had actually
hugged me. Tentatively, I returned the embrace. She finally pulled back to look at me. Her face was full of concern.
"God, I wish I didn't have to go. Please Duo, talk to Dr. Mitchell, let her help you. And don't hide from the others, either. I think I can understand why you seem to be trying to deny that anything's wrong. You're embarrassed. But Duo, something
is wrong. You can try to brush off what happened yesterday as 'nothing', but it's obvious to me that it wasn't nothing. Maybe the others will believe it if you persist in denying that a problem exists, but only because they'd rather believe it than believe that you've been in such pain for so long without us knowing. Please, Duo, don't persist in denying the truth. Please let us help you, all of us. I'll be back by Saturday at the latest, okay?" she said.
Mutely, I nodded. I didn't know what to say. I felt shamed by her concern. I didn't deserve it. Hell, I was even glad she was leaving, since her concern was causing me trouble. I felt lower than dirt.
"And please don't hurt yourself anymore," she added softly. I just looked away, flushing furiously. She sighed.
We stopped at my room to drop off the med supplies she was leaving me before making our way back to the living room. I took the only available seat that was left, on the couch next to Heero. The others said their good-byes.
"Take care of him, guys," she said, and then she was gone. I
struggled not to blush again, and just grinned goofily as the others
looked at me.
"It's a shame Sally had to leave," Quatre remarked.
"Actually, I will have to leave in the morning as well. The foundation will be needing me back. But I can return on the weekend, to see how Duo is doing," Wufei said, shooting me a glance.
"You know guys, it's always great to see you all, but you don't have to rush back on my account. Why did you all feel the need to be here for this anyway? It's no big deal," I said, hoping I sounded casual. I really was confused as to why they
all had shown up at Quatre's like this.
Hilde chuckled. "Well, that's a stupid question, Duo. We're you're friends and we care about you."
I grinned sheepishly, but I didn't think it'd been a stupid question. They hadn't shown such concern during the war. "Well, don't the rest of you have lives to get back to, like Sally and Wufei?" The less people actually hanging around here the better in my opinion.
"I can do most of my work for Winner Enterprises right here, and it's not like the office is far even if I do have to go in," Quatre replied.
"The circus is performing here on L4 for the next several weeks," Trowa added.
"I'm only doing a couple of courses right now, and I told my
professors I would be missing some classes. They were very understanding. A lot of the course material is online anyway, and I can e-mail any assignments right to them," Hilde said.
"Things have been quiet lately. Barring an emergency, Noin can handle Relena's security for the foreseeable future," Heero said.
"Great," I said with a smile, my hopes of any more of them leaving dashed. This was going to be hell, with the four of them hanging around me all the time. "So, um, did you guys decide on a movie?" I asked, changing the subject.
We ended up watching a bland comedy from a couple of years before the war. Afterwards we ate dinner, roasted chicken that looked wonderful, though I had to choke it down since I had no appetite, and was still feeling slightly nauseous. But convincing the others that I was okay included a healthy appetite, so I ate. I also chattered incessantly through the meal, and was even gratified to get a few irritated glances from Wufei and Heero, just like the old days. Maybe this could work.
After dinner we returned to the living room, and this time I picked out a couple of old vampire movies from the 20th century, "The Lost Boys" and "Near Dark." Once again, I sat next to Heero on the couch. The movies were a couple of my favourites, and a welcome distraction. Particularly once I noticed that every now and then, Heero would shift in his seat, and each time he would end up ever so slightly closer to me. Finally, when we were well into the second movie, his knee actually touched mine. I tried to ignore it and concentrate on the shootout between the vampires and the cops that was playing out on the screen. He shifted a little closer. A blush started to creep into my cheeks, and I was suddenly very grateful that it was now evening and no one had bothered to turn on any lights, so the room was dark except for the glow from the television. What the hell was he doing? And why the hell was I blushing?
About ten minutes later, Heero shifted again, and his whole thigh was in contact with mine, our shoulders almost touching. Was he doing it on purpose? I couldn't see how he could possibly be doing it without meaning to. I had to consciously keep my muscles relaxed. He was making me very nervous! He'd never done anything like this before. Thankfully it wasn't long after that that the movie ended. As casually as possible I rose to my feet.
"Well, guys, I'm pretty bushed. I'm going to get a shower and go to bed. Good night!" I said brightly, then all-but fled up the stairs.
I sighed with relief when I was safely in my room. Heero had been freaking me out. And despite how nervous he'd been making me, I had kind've liked his thigh touching mine, which was even more confusing. I shook my head. I really was pretty tired, and I had to shower and change my bandages. It was best not to think about this crap right then.
I gathered the supplies Sally had left for me and went into the
adjoining bathroom, making sure the door to Heero's room was locked, since we shared the bathroom. The last thing I wanted was Heero to walk in on me naked. Just the thought of it made me blush harder than ever, though my foremost concern was that he would see the extent of the damage.
I looked at myself in the mirror. The extent of the damage. I hadn't really seen it myself, at least not with a clear head. I'd still been fuzzy-headed from my hangover when I first woke up at my apartment. Then, at Sally's clinic, there had been the sedative she'd given me. I knew it was bad, but suddenly I didn't want to see just how bad. With more than just a little trepidation, I slowly removed my clothes until I was staring at myself in the mirror wearing only the gauze wrapped around my arms and thighs.
I swallowed hard, and with resignation started to pull on the tape holding the gauze onto my left arm. I wrinkled my nose at the resistance the adhesive gave before letting go of my skin and the fine hairs. Slowly I started to unwrap the gauze. Inch-by-inch my arm was revealed, until finally all the gauze had been removed. I stared, the food I'd forced myself to eat at dinner turning over uncomfortably in my stomach. I leaned back against the wall, suddenly feeling a bit faint. It was bad. Of course it was bad. I had
known it would be bad. But it was still nauseating to actually see it. I was more grateful than ever that I was the one doing this, not Sally or some anonymous nurse at the hospital.
I took a deep breath and brought my arm up to examine it more closely. The freshest cut was the one on my wrist from yesterday, when I had… when I had been going to kill myself. God, was it really only yesterday that that had happened? There were more cuts, of course, from as recently as a couple of days ago on up to a couple of weeks ago, in various stages of healing. The more recent ones were still gunky and crusty, really rather disgusting looking. A lot of them were fairly deep and gaping, and Sally hadn't been able to steri-strip closed the older ones that had already started healing. I knew from experience that they would heal into thick, tough scars. Old scars, ranging from thin, barely noticeable faded lines to fresh, angry red slashes, criss-crossed the new cuts in a roadmap of pain. I couldn't wrap my mind around how many there were. And that I had done them all to myself. I
knew that deep down, on some level, I felt a certain stirring of
perverse glee that I had done this to myself. Like I was screaming
hysterically at the world, 'Look! Look how much pain I'm in!' God, I was fucked in the head. My chest ached, and it was hard to breathe. I blinked back moistness in my eyes. My mind was spinning.
I noticed a small patch on the back of my arm that was actually
unlined, by either old scars or fresh cuts. My mind wandered to thinking about the scalpel I had stashed away in my room….
I blinked. What the...? I hadn't really just been thinking
that, had I? I sat down hard on the closed lid of the toilet. I had. Fuck, I really had been thinking it. Literally seconds after contemplating the mess I'd made of my arms, and feeling all the disgust and self-loathing at what I'd done, I see an unmarked patch of skin and start imagining what it would feel like to run a blade through it. Like it was a blank canvas, just waiting for the blade. I held my head in my hands, rocking back and forth slightly and taking deep, measured breaths to keep from screaming or sobbing. It was then that I knew with dead certainty that no matter what Sally or anyone said, there was absolutely
nothing that anyone could do for me. I was too screwed up to save. I didn't even deserve to be saved, so why bother trying?
I sat back, clenching my fists in front of me. I had to pull myself together. This was pointless! I stood and moving as quickly as I could, I removed the rest of the gauze from my other arm and my thighs. I carefully avoided looking at myself more than was absolutely necessary. I also chose to studiously ignore how much I was trembling, and how much I just wanted to curl up on the floor and bawl.
The shower helped a little. It had been days since I was really clean. The water stung my cuts, but I ignored that as well and concentrated on the hot water pounding down on my head as I washed my hair and body. I wished my soul could be cleansed so easily.
I stepped out of the shower reluctantly, and began the arduous process of re-bandaging my wounds. First carefully patting them dry, then applying the antibiotic cream, and finally rolling on the gauze and securing it with surgical tape. It was awkward doing each arm one-handed, but as I'd told Dr. Mitchell, I had lots of practice. I tried not to think about what I was doing, though. I mean really, one has to maintain a certain level of detachment when tending to nasty-looking injuries one has inflicted on oneself, or else said person will fall apart. I barely managed to repress the sob that threatened to break free at that thought.
Finally I was finished. I hurriedly cleaned up all the evidence of what I'd been doing, burying the old bandages deep in the trash can. As I straightened up from performing that task I accidentally made eye
contact with myself in the mirror. For a moment, I was frozen. Then I quickly turned away, and just managed to lift the toilet lid before vomiting the entire contents of my stomach into the bowl.
After brushing my teeth I gathered up my clothes and went into my room. I put on a clean pair of boxers and a tank top that I retrieved from my bag. As I was folding my clothes to put them away, I found the pamphlets Dr. Mitchell had given me in my pocket. I rolled my eyes. I still couldn't believe she'd done something as lame as give me
pamphlets to read. Who did she think she was, a high school guidance councilor? I sighed. I may as well have a look at them. She'd said she'd want to talk about them tomorrow.
I finished putting my clothes away and sat down on the bed. I looked at the first pamphlet, titled simply 'Depression.' I sighed again and started to read. 'Everyone feels sad or down at some point in their lives. But these feelings shouldn't go on for weeks or months. You shouldn't feel down or anxious and worried for no reason at all. If you've felt like this for some time, you may be suffering from depression. Millions of people do. Many don't even know it. Others are reluctant to discuss it. Depression is an illness like diabetes or asthma. It can happen to anyone. You may feel that you should be able to get out of it on your own. Don't. The earlier you seek help, the sooner you may begin feeling like yourself again. Your doctor understands and can help.' (1)
I resisted the urge to rip the paper into tiny shreds. I didn't like the way reading that had made me feel, like a cold knot of dread twisting in my chest. Why should a stupid pamphlet be doing that to me? I grit my teeth and continued reading. The rest of the pamphlet seemed to be some kind of checklist, 'The Aurora Depression Self-Test.' The instructions for the eleven questions said that you should answer them based on how you had been feeling for the past two weeks, and that if you answered 'yes' to five or more, then you were probably suffering from depression and should see a doctor. Pretty simple, huh? Except that I barely remembered the past two weeks. I figured I may as well take the test and answer based on how I'd been feeling for the past few years. It was all pretty much the same, only steadily increasing in intensity. I reached over and found a pencil in the nightstand drawer.
Okay, question one. 'Have you been feeling sad, depressed or down most of the time?' Well, that was an understatement. Definitely a yes.
Question two. 'Have you been less interested and less able to enjoy the things that once gave you pleasure?' I thought about that for a moment. It was true that over the months I'd had less and less energy to do things that I liked, like read or hang out with the others. I had actually used to like spending time with them, before it had just become too much of a drain, trying to act 'normal' for them. Another yes.
Question three. 'Have you felt tired or without energy most of the time?' Another understatement. I was tired all of the time. I never had energy for anything. Sometimes not even enough to get out of bed.
Question four. 'Have you had trouble sleeping or do you sleep too much?' Both. Sometimes for weeks I'd barely be able to sleep a wink, and I'd just lie in bed staring at the ceiling for hours on end. Other times I might sleep twelve or fourteen hours at a stretch. Though I still usually had no energy, regardless of how much or how little I'd slept. Yes number four.
Question five. 'Have you found it difficult to concentrate or make decisions?' I thought about that one, too. Near the end of the war it had been increasingly difficult to maintain my focus. I should probably count myself lucky that I hadn't ended up getting us all killed or done something stupid like blowing up some hospital or school instead of an OZ base. That was definitely an unpleasant thought. So another yes. Five questions in and I already had my five affirmative answers that said you probably had a problem. What a surprise.
Question six. 'Have you had an increase or decrease in appetite or weight?' No question there. I had no appetite to speak of, and hadn't had one for months and months. I'd lost so much weight I was little more than a skeleton.
Question seven. 'Have you had feelings of worthlessness or guilt?' I chuckled without humor. You could say that.
Question eight. 'Have you felt frightened or panicky for no apparent reason at all?' That one was tricky. Did practically having a panic attack over how fucked you are count? I thought back to how reluctant I'd been over the past few months to even leave my apartment. How I could find myself becoming very tense the few times I'd
had to go out for some reason. A sinking feeling in my stomach, I marked that one as a yes as well.
Question nine. 'Have you felt restless and found it difficult to sit still?' Another definite yes. There had been times when I'd felt so
restless that I'd thought I'd jump right out of my skin. It had been quite convenient when the others had been around. They'd mistaken it for me being energetic and lively, not agitated and fidgety.
Question ten. 'Have you been feeling anxious or worried?' Christ, was I going to end up answering every question as a yes?
Question eleven. The last one. 'Have you felt like you just cannot go on, or had thoughts of death or dying?' I stared at the word on the page. There was a special note that if you answered yes to that question, you should see a doctor no matter how you answered the other questions. Had I had thoughts of death or dying? My eyes strayed to my left wrist, where underneath the layers of gauze was the flesh and blood proof that I had. But there was no way I was marking that yes on the paper. I tossed the pamphlet on the floor without marking yes or no.
Eleven for eleven. When five meant you 'probably' had a
problem, what did eleven mean? Abandon all hope? It's not like I was surprised the thing said I was depressed. Anyone who needs a test to tell them they're depressed can't be all
that depressed! But eleven out of eleven? That cold knot of dread in my chest twisted tighter. It was just more proof that I was fucked beyond belief. I glanced at the other pamphlets. There was another one about depression, one about alcohol abuse, and one about self-injury. I eyed the last one curiously for a moment, but finally tossed all three of them on the floor with the first one. I didn't need to get into that right now, not with the way I was already feeling. I could look at them in the morning.
I reached up and flicked off the lamp, then climbed into bed. I
was exhausted, but my mind was racing with so many thoughts that I knew
that it would be a while before I fell asleep, if at all. And my chest just ached so much. It was not a feeling I was unfamiliar with. It was the awful, cold certainty that I was beyond help, that I would never feel any better than I did now. That there was, in fact, no reason to believe that things would not continue to get worse. It was the pain of being
alive. I turned my face into the pillow, fighting back tears.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, startling me. I
composed myself as best I could, and called out for whoever it was to come in, relieved that my voice didn't crack. The door opened a little, a shaft of light spilling into the room from the hallway. I rolled over on my back to look, and I could see the dark outline of someone poking their head into the room.
"Duo? We're all going to bed now. Are you okay? Do you need
anything?" It was Heero. I swallowed hard before answering.
"No, Heero, I'm fine. Thanks. Good night."
I could see from his outline that he gave a curt nod. Then he
seemed to hesitate in the doorway, like he wanted to say something else.
"Good night," he finally said, and closed the door.
I lay quietly for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. It was
too much. It was all just too much. I turned over suddenly, curling up into a tight ball, trying to ease the pain in my chest, and let the tears come. I buried my face in the pillow to muffle the sound of my wracking sobs.
(1) Taken from feelingblue.com, as is the rest of the
information quoted from the pamphlet.
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***
Part 14
I awoke Monday morning with a horrible feeling of emptiness inside me.
It was literally painful to feel so completely and utterly empty. I had
once
again slept fitfully, assailed by terrible dreams that I couldn't
remember.
I sat up like a zombie, my eyes falling to the pamphlets scattered on
the
floor. I reached down and picked up the one about self-injury. Last
night I
had felt mild surprise that a pamphlet existed on the subject. Now… I
felt
nothing. I was just drained. I let the pamphlet fall back to the floor.
Still moving like a zombie, I got dressed and went into the bathroom.
After
relieving myself and washing my hands and face, I stared at my
reflection in
the mirror. I barely recognized the person who stared back at me.
"Are you real?" I asked my reflection, my voice hollow.
Unsurprisingly, my
reflection didn't answer. I reached out and gingerly touched the
mirror. I
felt disembodied, and painfully numb, as strange as that may sound.
"Who are
you? Why are you alive?" I whispered. The figure in the mirror was
pale,
features sharp and drawn. A hollow-faced ghoul. A stranger. Shuddering,
I
drew back my hand and mechanically went through the motions of brushing
and
braiding my hair, barely noticing the tugging pain of the healing cuts
on my
arms.
I opened the bathroom door and went to step back into my room, but
froze
when I saw Hilde sitting on my bed. She was holding the depression
self-test
pamphlet in her trembling hands. When she looked up at me, her eyes
were
brimming with tears. The numbness in my chest sharpened and I swallowed
hard.
She took a shuddering breath and started to speak. "I-I came in to see
if
you were up yet, and saw these lying on the floor... I just picked one
up
and started to read it." She shook her head and chuckled without
humor.
"I'm so fucking stupid, you know? I really almost started to believe
it. I
wanted to believe you so bad, even though I saw you completely fall
apart
Saturday..."
"Hilde..." I began.
"No!" she said. "Don't try to tell me there isn't something wrong
here. I
can see it right here!" She held up the pamphlet. "Are you going to try
to
tell me someone else marked all these 'yes' boxes?"
"Hilde, the test says to answer based on the past two weeks. I told
you I
hadn't been feeling well recently, but that's it! It's just been a
little
while. everything will be fine after I see Dr. Mitchell for awhile." I
tried
to smile convincingly, but I think it came out more like a grimace. My
insides felt deathly cold with dread.
She stared at me with disbelieving eyes. "Stop it! Sally was right.
You
have a serious problem, and we all missed it. Even after Saturday...
and
Quatre's party... you were well on your way to fooling us again,
because we
wanted to be fooled, but it's not going to work anymore. The truth is
right here on paper!" Her voice choked and a few tears finally spilled
from
her eyes. "Why didn't you answer the last question, Duo?" she asked, her
voice low and unerringly calm.
The last question, the one about suicide. My thoughts racing I reached
out
to touch her shoulder. I felt sick. "Hilde..."
She jumped to her feet, her face twisting with anger. "Stop it!" she
yelled
loudly. I winced. "Stop trying to placate me while you scramble for a
believable lie!" I winced again. She'd hit the nail right on the head.
"You
can't hide from this anymore! You really were going to kill yourself
Saturday, weren't you? Don't even try to deny it! Oh, GOD!" She
suddenly
threw her arms around me, sobbing on my shoulder. For the second time
in two
days, I had an upset woman in my arms. It was almost funny. I didn't
know
what else to do, so I hugged her back.
"Shhh, it's going to be okay, Hilde, everything's going to be okay," I
murmured, not believing my own words. The pain from the hollowness
inside me
was palpable.
"Wh-what's going on?" a frightened voice asked. I looked at the
doorway. It
was Quatre, staring at us wide-eyed. Heero, Trowa, and Wufei were with
him,
too, drawn, presumably, by Hilde's yelling. I looked away sharply,
unwilling
to look any of them in the eye. I didn't feel up to pretending
everything
was okay. There didn't really seem to be a point, anyway, not now. The
bottom had fallen out of my big master plan. I didn't feel as upset as
I
thought I would, just vaguely nauseous and so damned empty.
Hilde drew away from me and looked at them, sniffing back her tears.
She
still held that damned pamphlet in one hand. She shot me a glance, but
seeing that I had no intention of trying to stop her, she held it out
towards them. "I-I found this," she said.
Heero took the pamphlet from her and scanned it quickly, his face
growing
increasingly grim. He looked up at me as he passed it to Quatre. I
averted
my eyes guiltily. Why wasn't I panicking? Why wasn't I screaming
denials,
laughing it off, coming up with excuses? Empty, empty, empty, I just
felt
so empty.
Quatre looked over the pamphlet and then passed it on to Trowa, who
merely
glanced at it before passing it to Wufei. Quatre looked at me, then
Hilde,
then Heero, then me again, his expression pained.
"What... what does this mean?" he asked slowly, and it was obvious
from the
tone of his voice that he knew exactly what it meant, he just wanted
someone else's confirmation.
"It means," Heero said, his gaze boring into me, "that Duo's problems
are a
lot more serious than he was letting on." I looked at the floor, the
wall,
the ceiling, anywhere but at them.
"Duo... why... why did you lie to us?" Quatre asked. He sounded hurt.
The
hollow pain in my chest was quickly becoming unbearable.
"Get out," I whispered, crossing my arms over my chest. God, how could
my
heart hurt so much, feel so empty, and go on beating?
"Duo..." Heero began.
"GET OUT!!!" I yelled, still not looking at them. Dimly I could hear
that
Hilde was crying again.
"Guys, maybe it's best if we leave Duo alone for a little while,"
Trowa
suggested gently. I shot him a grateful look before quickly looking at
the
floor again.
"But..." Wufei said.
"Now," Trowa said more firmly, and started herding them out of the
room.
Heero remained staring at me intently, until Trowa pulled firmly on his
arm.
Reluctantly, he followed the others out of the room. Trowa gave me one
last
look before quietly closing the door.
Numbly, I sat on the edge of the bed. God. What had just happened?
Everything had fallen apart. Why wasn't I more upset? I mean, I was
upset,
but in a strange, disassociated kind of way. My chest hurt so much,
but
that, too, felt somehow… unreal. I laid back on the bed, staring at the
ceiling. I should be crying, screaming... something. Somehow, I knew I
should be crying. Something really terrible had just happened. But the
tears
wouldn't come. There was just... nothing. It felt, in a way, worse than
crying. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to think. I didn't
know
what to feel. I was... lost.
I'm not sure how long I lay there, adrift in mind-numbing emptiness.
Hours,
I think. There was a knock at the door, and then it opened. It was
Trowa. I
looked at him with dull eyes.
"It's almost time to leave for the hospital. You should eat
something," he
said simply. Without a word, I climbed to my feet, feeling as if the
weight
of the world was on my shoulders. I followed him to the kitchen. I
didn't
see any of the others. When we reached the kitchen, he motioned me
towards
the breakfast counter. I pulled out a stool and sat down, watching as
he
proceeded to make a sandwich. When he was finished, he set it before me
and
took the opposite stool.
"Thanks," I mumbled. We sat in silence as I ate the sandwich. It
should
have been unnerving, but for some reason it wasn't. Maybe it was
because I
somehow sensed that he didn't expect anything from me. I finished
eating and
just looked at him.
"Wufei's still here. He managed to get a few more days off from the
foundation," he commented, breaking the silence. I quirked an eyebrow,
but
didn't say anything. "I managed to convince them that you didn't need
all of
us to accompany you to the hospital, though. Heero seemed like he was
going
to insist, but even he gave in. I can still go with you, if you like."
"Okay," I said, genuinely surprised, and very grateful that he'd
talked
them into it. Trowa looked at his watch.
"Speaking of which, it's time to go," he said, rising to his feet. I
sighed, and followed him out to Quatre's garage. Apparently Trowa had
already arranged to borrow one of Quatre's cars, because he had the
keys
with him. I sat in the passenger seat as Trowa drove us to the
hospital,
neither one of us speaking. I felt sick when the Everett Psychiatric
Hospital came into view.
Just like yesterday, the trip through the elaborate security set-up
was
unnerving, especially now that I had a new conviction about just how
hopelessly fucked up I really was. I probably did belong in here with
all
the other psychos.
By the time we reached the door to Dr. Mitchell's office, it was two
p.m.
on the dot, so I knocked on the door while Trowa sat on a bench to
wait. Dr.
Mitchell answered and waved me in with a smile. I sat on the couch and
she
sat in her chair, clipboard in hand. For a while we just looked at each
other.
"My, aren't we talkative this afternoon?" she laughed. I just kept
looking
at her. It actually seemed to unnerve her a bit. She cleared her
throat.
"So, did you have a chance to look at those pamphlets I gave you?"
"I... glanced at them," I replied tonelessly. She raised her eyebrows.
"Well, what did you think?" she pressed.
I rubbed my face wearily, suddenly wondering why I was here. There was
no
longer any hope of convincing the others that I was okay, so why keep
up the
ruse of seeing a doctor? It wasn't like she could really help me. I was
beyond helping. Worse even, I didn't deserve to be helped.
"I think... I think this is full of shit," I said finally. I expected
her
to get angry or something, but all she did was lean back in her chair
and
look thoughtful.
"Why do you say that?" she asked after a moment.
I didn't have the energy or the inclination to explain myself to her.
"I
don't know," I replied sullenly, looking away. Out of the corner of my
eye I
saw her jot something down, and I stiffened. I really didn't have the
patience for this. Why the hell was I here?
"What did you think of the pamphlet on self-injury?" she asked.
I sighed. "I just glanced at it, I didn't really read it," I admitted.
She
leaned over and picked up a copy of the pamphlet that was
oh-so-conveniently
on her desk.
"You really should read it, Duo. I think you'll find it interesting.
There's a lot of information on the reasons why people S-I, and there's
also
a list of things to do instead of S-I when you're feeling the urge. I
think
it would be very useful for you."
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. I was getting one bitch of a
headache. "Listen. I don't want to talk about this."
"Duo, you can't just ignore the problem and hope it will go away," she
said. I hated the tone of her voice. So pleasantly understanding. What
a
load of bullshit. My stomach twisted, and I was once again overwhelmed
by
how empty I felt. I suddenly felt sorry for her. She had good
intentions, I
knew she did. But she couldn't help me. I was wasting her time.
"I'm not ignoring anything," I snapped. "It's hammering me over the
head
whether I like it or not. It never goes away." She seemed to consider
this
for a moment. She put the pamphlet back on her desk.
"Maybe it's time we discussed medication," she said, as casually as if
she
were suggesting we discuss the weather. I glared at her.
"I told you yesterday, you are not shoving pills down my throat!"
Suddenly I just had to get out of there. I jumped to my feet. "There's
no
point to this. I need to get out of here. It's been real, doc." I
turned and
strode out of the room, leaving her with a shocked expression on her
face.
The drive back to Quatre's estate was just as quiet as the drive to
the
hospital. I had expected Trowa to inquire about my session, to ask how
it
went or why it was so short, but he didn't, and for that I was
grateful. He
finally spoke up as we stepped out of the car in the garage.
"I know it probably doesn't feel like it right now, but the others
really
do want to help, if you'll let them," he said softly.
I looked at him and almost asked none-too nicely how the hell he knew
that,
but I stopped myself as I was suddenly sure that he did know that. I
nodded mutely.
When we went into the house, we found the others sitting in the living
room. The TV was on, but no one seemed to be watching it. They all
looked
decidedly uneasy, even Heero. Hilde's eyes were bloodshot, as if she'd
been
crying all day. She probably had been. I felt a pang of guilt.
Quatre rose and gave Trowa a hug when he came into the room, and then
they
both sat snuggling against each other on the couch. I sank into an
armchair
and didn't' look at anybody. I didn't say anything either. There just
didn't
seem any point to putting on the joker's mask. The silence threatened
to go
on forever, until finally Quatre spoke up.
"So... how did it go?" he ventured.
I didn't look at him. "Please, can we not talk about this right now?
Can we
just... sit here and watch a movie or something?"
"Okay... if that's what you want." He sounded so unsure of himself. I
guess
none of them really knew what to say or do. What exactly was the proper
etiquette for this situation, anyway? Did such a thing exist? I think
they
were just grateful that I was opting to stay in the living room with
them
instead of retreating to my own room.
We spent the rest of the day like that. Quatre put on a cop movie with
lots
of explosions. Afterwards, we ate dinner, and then returned to the
living
room to watch more movies. No one spoke, except to make an occasional
idle
comment about the current movie. It was... eerie.
I didn't really pay too much attention to the TV. I looked
around
the room at my friends from my perch curled up in the armchair. I
realized
that I loved them, I really did, and that... they didn't need me. In
fact,
they would be better off without me. It hurt to see how much pain I was
causing them, even as a small voice in the back of my mind continued to
balk
at the idea that they really cared about me. My heart ached. The
emptiness
inside me was pure hell. How could emptiness hurt so much? I hugged my
knees
to my chest.
It was then that I thought about dying.
I slowly analyzed the situation. My big plan from yesterday had
failed miserably. In retrospect it wasn't a very good plan. It had,
after
all, crashed and burned within 24 hours. My presence here was hurting
my
friends. I could leave, go back to my apartment on L2, but what was
waiting
there for me? More loneliness, more emptiness, more unending,
unbearable
pain... It hurt to be alive. So why go on living?
With increasing clarity, I knew what I had to do. It was the only
thing
that made sense, really. It's not as if I'd never considered it before.
My
heart constricted so tightly that it was a wonder it didn't explode. It
was
the right choice, the only choice. A strange calmness stole over my
mind.
It would all be over. I would be... free. The others would probably be
sad
for a while, but ultimately... they'd realize they were better off. It
was
the best thing for everyone. I'd never been more certain of anything in
my
entire life. I was even more certain than I had been Saturday. I
felt...
acceptance.
The third movie of the evening ended. I didn't even remember what it
had
been about. Wufei announced that he was going to bed, and the others
agreed
that it was a good idea. We all went upstairs. The magnitude of my
decision
threatened to overwhelm me, and suddenly I wanted to hug them all
good-bye,
but that of course would have aroused suspicion. I just looked at them,
murmured a good night, and ducked into my room. I leaned back against
the
door, taking deep breaths. I had a moment's hesitation, but the black
hole
in my soul reared its head, threatening to split my chest open. My
resolve
hardening, I moved forward as if in a dream.
I looked in my bag and was glad to find the huge bottle of aspirin I'd
brought to Quatre's two weeks ago still in the pocket. I went into the
bathroom and filled a glass with water. I could've been watching
someone
else do it, it felt so unreal. I looked in the mirror. My reflection
was
still the hollow-eyed ghoul, the stranger. This was the right decision.
I watched as the stranger opened the pill bottle. He methodically took
out
a pill, put it on his tongue and swallowed it with a sip of water. He
did it
again. It was mesmerizing. I knew that what he really wanted to do was
take
the scalpel and split his veins wide open, but it wouldn't do to get
blood
all over Quatre's bathroom. So he swallowed another pill. I stood and
watched as the ghoulish stranger with the haunted eyes swallowed pill
after
pill, until the bottle of 100, which had been nearly full to begin
with, was
empty. I felt a peculiar sense of exhilaration when I saw that last
pill
disappear in his mouth. I stared, and those haunted eyes stared back at
me.
I'm not sure how long we stood there, staring at each other. I was
starting
to feel decidedly... peculiar. The world was narrowing, my vision
blurring
and wavering. There was a strange ringing in my ears. I suddenly
thought of
Heero, probably asleep by now, in the very next room, and I felt a pang
of... regret? I wasn't even sure why.
On sudden inspiration, I stumbled back into my room, stripping my
shirt off
as I went. It was a little tricky, considering my peripheral vision had
all
but disappeared and I could feel the blood pounding in my head, but I
found
the scalpel where I had hidden it away in a drawer. I returned to the
bathroom. I had to concentrate very intently, and I was wavering on my
feet,
but I watched as the stranger in the mirror started to carve letters
into
his chest. When he was finished, there were two words visible. From my
perspective, they were backwards, since it was a reflection, but I knew
what
they said. Suddenly my legs could no longer support me and I sat down
hard
on the floor with a very loud thud. The noise seemed to echo through my
head, and I giggled. I actually giggled. Feeling very heavy, I let my
upper body fall back as well, barely noticing when my head hit the tile
with
another audible thud.
I was sprawled out on the bathroom floor, naked from the waist up
except
for the gauze still wrapped around my arms. My chest felt wet, so I
brought
a hand up to touch it. It felt like I was moving my arm through water.
I
brought my hand up in line with my hazy vision, and was mildly
interested to
see that it was covered with blood. I let my arm fall back bonelessly
above
my head. I blinked once, twice, and then let my eyes fall shut on the
world
for what I hoped would be the last time.
[1]
[2]
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***
Part 15
I heard voices. Urgent voices, sounding as if they were far, far away. What
was going on? Where was I? There were hands on me, moving me. More voices.
Was someone crying? I felt like I was floating up... up... up.... Noise. The
bustle of people. Someone was definitely saying my name.
Groggily, I opened my eyes, and was immediately assailed by bright light. I
looked around, confused, my vision a little unfocused. I was on some kind of
stretcher, in a bright, tiled room. People in scrubs were rushing around,
their voices coming to me as if from through a long tunnel. Where was I?
What was going on? Disoriented, I tried to sit up, but my muscles felt so
weak, and I was pushed back down. A woman was standing over me.
"Duo? Duo Maxwell? Can you hear me? You're in the emergency room." Her
voice sounded miles away.
Emergency room? What....? Suddenly, it all came rushing back to me. The
aspirin.... One of the others must have found me, brought me to the
hospital. NO! I was supposed to be dead! This couldn't be happening! I
wanted to scream.
"... put a tube down to your stomach... pump out anything that hasn't been
absorbed...," the woman, presumably a doctor judging from her white lab
coat, was saying. It took a few moments for the words to sink in through the
fog of my brain. Pump my stomach? They wanted to pump my stomach? No! I
couldn't let them! I was supposed to die! I started to struggle, trying to
push her away. I felt my flailing leg come into contact with something and
was dimly aware of the clatter as a tray of instruments hit the floor.
People moved in and grabbed onto me, holding me down. Adrenaline surged
along my veins, causing my perception to regain some of its focus.
"Duo! Please stop struggling! If you don't cooperate, we'll have to
restrain you and put the tube down through your nose rather than your mouth,
and trust me, you don't want that!" she said. She had some kind of tube in
her hand.
I didn't pay attention. All I knew was that I wanted to die and these
people were trying to stop me. I continued to thrash wildly, trying to get
up, trying to get away from them. More hands were holding me down. Next
thing I knew, my arms and legs were being strapped to the stretcher. I could
barely move.
The woman moved in with that tube. "Duo, please open your mouth. I need to
slide this down your throat. Just swallow to ease it down. This will be much
less unpleasant if you cooperate."
"NOOOOO!!!!!!" I screamed, thrashing my head from side to side, my limbs
pulling at the straps in vain. She wasn't getting that thing in me if I
could help it. I was supposed to be DEAD! They were ruining everything.
Panic gripped my soul.
As I tuned my head to the left, I froze for a split second when I saw past
the doctor and through a pair of swinging double doors out into the hallway.
Heero, Hilde, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei were all standing out there, staring
in. Hilde and Quatre were sobbing. Trowa had his arms wrapped around Quatre,
his face grim. Wufei looked like he was in shock. Heero... I don't know how
to describe the look on Heero's face, except to say that he looked like his
jaw was clenched so tightly he was going to grind his teeth into powder.
Damn, damn, DAMN! It wasn't supposed to be like this! I was supposed to
just go to sleep and never wake up. I renewed my struggle, though the
restraints they had strapped onto me were so tight that all I could really
move was my head. Words can not do justice to the anguish I was feeling
right then. It was... agony. I became aware that tears were tracking down my
face.
"Nonononononononononononono...!" I was wailing without even realizing it.
Everything felt so surreal. The doctor frowned and motioned to someone.
Suddenly hands were gripping either side of my skull, holding my head firmly
in place. My eyes flared wide in panic. They couldn't stop me! I HAD to die!
"Duo, if you don't let me slide this down your throat right now I'm going
to put it down through your nose," the doctor said forcefully. Her voice was
sounding dim again, and my ears were ringing. I closed my eyes and clamped
my mouth shut. My breaths were shallow and ragged. I couldn't let them stop
me! How could they do this to me? Why couldn't they just let me die? They
didn't understand, I couldn't live with this pain anymore!
The tube was being forced down my nose. My eyes flew open, the room seeming
to spin around me. All the faces were a blur. I tried desperately to move my
head, but to no avail. The person holding it was strong, and I was just too
weak. They had me trapped and they weren't going to let me die in peace.
Feeling utterly defeated, I started to sob helplessly.
It hurt. Everything else may have seemed fuzzy around the edges to my
addled brain, but I swear I felt every millimeter as that tube made its way
up my nose and down my throat to my stomach. It felt like being choked. I
gagged. Dimly, I heard a voice telling me to swallow. As if I had any choice
in the matter with that damned thing shoved down my throat, my body
swallowing instinctively to try to ease its passage. It still felt as if my
throat was being gouged out.
Finally, it was all the way in. The doctor put a stethoscope to my stomach
and listened for a moment. She gave a satisfied nod and the tube was taped
into place. She pulled a machine over, and hooked the opposite end of the
tube to it. Then, it started. The suction.
The feeling was... hideous. Like someone was trying to turn my whole body
inside out by reaching down my throat, grabbing onto my stomach, and pulling
it, and everything else inside me, out. I imagined I could feel the walls of
my stomach collapsing, the tissues rubbing against each other in a way they
were never meant to do. It was a nauseating feeling almost like vomiting,
but different, and much, much more intense.
All I could do was lay and stare at the ceiling, tears still running down
my face, unable to move more than a few millimeters, as the life was sucked
out of me. Or, more accurately, as the life was forced back into me. Dimly I
was aware that I was making some kind of pained whimpering noise. I probably
sounded like a distressed animal. I didn't care. Everything was ruined. I'd
never felt so helpless in my entire life.
After what seemed like an eternity, the suction stopped. I closed my eyes
and drifted. There was a gentle tapping on my cheek, so I opened my eyes
again. It was the doctor. She was speaking. The adrenaline surge from my
initial panic had faded, and she once again sounded like she was speaking
through a long tunnel.
"... charcoal... faster absorption... tube...." I could only make out a few
words. It didn't matter anyway. The doctor had the end of the tube in her
hand again, and was pouring black liquid into it using a bottle with a
nozzle narrow enough to fit in the tube's opening. It was another strange
sensation, liquid going straight into my stomach, which had so recently just
been forcibly emptied and was feeling decidedly... sore. Next thing I knew
that was finished as well and the tube was being removed. It hurt just as
much coming out as it did going in.
When the tube was all the way out, the hands released my head, but though I
had ceased struggling, they left the restraints on my arms and legs. I
turned my head and coughed until I thought I'd hack up a lung. I couldn't
believe how much my throat hurt. I had to fight to keep from throwing up the
charcoal or whatever it was they'd put in me. I was afraid that if I did
they'd try to stick the tube back in for another round.
I caught another glimpse of my friends' stricken faces out in the hallway,
and quickly turned back to looking at the ceiling. God, I couldn't believe
they'd seen all of that. I felt a horrible, burning shame. Though I was too
weak to sob anymore, there seemed to be no end to the tears running down my
cheeks. I drew shallow, shuddering breaths. It was getting difficult to
breathe.
The doctor got my attention again, speaking loudly like she knew I was
having trouble hearing her. "You're going to be fine, Duo. There's not
enough drug left in your system to cause permanent harm. However, you're
going to be feeling the effects for a while yet as what was already absorbed
works its way through your system. It's affecting you're breathing enough to
cause you distress, so we're going to intubate you to make breathing easier.
Are you going to cooperate?"
I closed my eyes and gave a slight nod. Though the last thing I wanted was
another tube down my throat, there was no point in struggling now. It was
already too late. I was going to live. I didn't open my eyes even when
someone held my head in place again. I obediently opened my mouth and let
the doctor put the new tube down my sore throat and into my trachea. When
she was done, it was indeed much easier to breathe.
I drifted for a little while in a hazy fog. Nurses came and went, checking
my vitals. Someone came and stitched the cuts on my chest. It felt like some
time had passed when the doctor started speaking to me again, still using a
loud voice so that I could hear her.
"We're going to move you to the ICU now. They're going to monitor you until
all the aspirin has left your system. I'm going to go speak to your friends
and let them know how you are." I didn't acknowledge her, just closed my
eyes and let myself drift away into unconsciousness, though this time I was
filled with the bitter certainty that I was going to wake up.
I awoke slowly, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the artificial daylight
pouring through the window, and found myself in a small cubicle of some
sorts. The head of the bed seemed to be raised at about a thirty-degree
angle, giving me a good view of the area. I was hooked up to numerous
monitoring devices, and I was still breathing through a tube.
I tried to raise my arm to rub my aching head, but discovered that though
my legs were free, my arms were still in restraints. I also realized that
the gauze on my arms had been removed, and I was only wearing some kind of
hospital gown. A short sleeved hospital gown. I stared down at my arms, the
scars seeming to stand out as bright as day. Anyone could see them. Panic
coiled in my stomach.
I'll never forget the moment that it really hit me. The magnitude of what
I'd done, of what had happened the previous night. The cold light of day was
unforgiving. My blood seemed to turn to ice in my veins. To put it mildly, I
was horrified, filled with a terrible, all-consuming shame. My thoughts
raced at a mile a minute.
What had I been thinking? How could I have been so stupid? I should have
planned it out better, made sure there was no chance of failure. How could I
have done it in Quatre's house, with everyone there? Was I absolutely
INSANE? Well, obviously. That was a moot point. How could I have behaved
like that in the emergency room? How could I have been so stupid as to
struggle with them, and make it worse, when just being there had meant it
was already too late? Were they going to lock me up? Was that why I was
still in restraints? How could I face the others? How could I ever look
them in the face again? They knew. God, they'd seen me at the lowest and
most pathetic point of my entire life. They'd watched while I had a tube
forced down my nose to have my stomach pumped. They'd seen me scream and
fight and struggle to prevent it. God, had they already seen me like this?
Had they seen all the scars? What could they possibly be thinking of me?
What happens now? What the HELL happens now???
The biggest question of all, though, lurking unvoiced in the back of my
mind, was whether I should try again at the earliest opportunity.
Just then a nurse walked into the cubicle, interrupting my mental diatribe.
I looked away from her, my face flushing with the humiliation of having my
scars on display. It was also more than just a little embarrassing to be
strapped to the hospital bed.
"Ah, Mr. Maxwell, I see you're finally awake. You just missed your friend,"
she said as she checked the monitors. My eyes snapped back to her. What did
she mean? I tried to ask but found I was unable to make a sound around that
damned tube.
"Oh, no, no, no, Mr. Maxwell, you can't speak while you're intubated," she
said cheerily. She continued, seeming to have guessed what I'd been trying
to ask. "Your female friend with the short black hair was just in here.
Patients in ICU are only permitted one visitor at a time so she and the four
boys with her have been taking turns sitting in here with you since you were
brought up. She just left a few minutes ago to get one of the others, but
now that you're awake the doctor needs to examine you first. He'll probably
take that tube out, and if you behave, he might even take these off." She
flicked her figure at one of the straps holding my arms. I scowled. She just
smiled and left the room.
Great. So they had all been in here. They'd seen me lying here
unconscious, a tube down my throat, and scars all over my arms. Did they
know about... that? They must, I hadn't been wearing a shirt last night.
They would have seen it. At least the hospital gown covered the bandage over
the stitches, though now that I was thinking about it, it was starting to
itch. I couldn't even scratch it, not with my arms tied down. I felt cold
fear and dread stealing over my mind. What the hell was I going to do now?
The nurse came back, accompanied by a stern-looking doctor in his
mid-fifties. He didn't even introduce himself, just started examining me and
checking my vitals. He unhooked the breathing tube from the machine.
"I'm going to pull this out. Take a deep breath and then exhale as hard as
you can," he ordered. I did as he instructed, grimacing as the tube slid up
my parched throat. The nurse offered me a cup of water with a straw and I
gratefully took several mouthfuls. The doctor narrowed his eyes at me.
"You don't seem to be agitated. Are you going to give me any trouble if I
let you out of those restraints?" he demanded. Man, what was his problem?
Like I wasn't fucking embarrassed enough as it was, here he was acting like
I was a disobedient child.
"I promise I'll be a good little boy," I croaked out mockingly, surprising
myself. Where had that come from? Looked like Mr. Smart-Alec was back,
coming to the rescue in my time of shame. The oh-so-friendly doctor just
grunted and then removed the straps. I stretched my arms out gratefully
before hugging them tightly to my chest, trying to hide as many of the scars
from view as possible.
"I give you fair warning, though, you pull any of that shit you did in the
ER last night, I'll have you back in these so fast your head will spin, and
we'll have more than enough cause to lock you up in the psych ward for a
nice long stay." With that he turned on his heels and left. I glared at his
retreating back, anger rising up to join the shame and embarrassment.
Christ, who did he think he was? My heart also constricted in my chest when
he mentioned the psych ward. Just how likely was that?
"Don't worry, Dr. Andrews' bark is worse than his bite. He has his head
stuck up his ass. And the psych ward is actually so overcrowded right now
you'd probably have to put on a tutu, kill someone, and say your dog told
you to do it before they'd stick you in there," the nurse said, winking at
me. I just gaped at her. "I'll go tell your friends one of them can come in
to see you now. They were very relieved to hear you'd finally woken up." She
left before I could say anything.
Panic threatened to overtake me and I hugged my arms closer to me. I didn't
want to see anybody. Which one of them would it be? What would they say? How
could I possibly look them in the face after what I'd done? I'd never felt
as screwed up as I did right then. The damned pain threatened to split my
chest wide open. My eyes watered but I fought the tears back furiously.
Would I ever fucking be able to stop crying? I tried to take deep steady
breaths. It simply would not do to fall apart right now. No matter what that
strange nurse had said, I was still deathly afraid that they'd try to lock
me up. There was no way I could let that happen. It felt like every muscle
in my body was tensed and my stomach, still sore from last night, felt like
a huge cold lump. I rubbed my temple in frustration, wishing I could just
fucking think straight. But I hadn't been able to think straight in a very
long time.
I suddenly realized that Heero was standing in the doorway to the cubicle.
Our eyes locked, and I found myself unable to look away, even as the most
intense wave of mortification I've ever felt washed over me. He was staring
at me like he could see right through me. I couldn't read the statement on
his face. It was very... peculiar. And intense. Very, very intense. It was
downright unnerving.
Several emotions warred for dominance within me. A big part of me just
wanted to curl up in a ball and weep in a most undignified fashion. I wanted
to scream, cry, rant and rave, and just generally fall the fuck apart. I
felt acute embarrassment, shame, and regret. But falling apart would only
make things worse. Finally, though, I felt my old defenses slamming down, my
brain's damned instinct for self-preservation taking control. If I put up a
wall, a mask, it wouldn't hurt as much. It was stupid, pathetic, and
hopelessly transparent, but I was trapped, desperate, and had absolutely
nothing else I could think of to do. I smirked, and there was no humour in
it.
"Hey, Heero. What's up?" I said casually.
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***
Part 16
Heero continued to stare at me from the doorway, only now he
had a rather incredulous look on his face. He was really making me
uncomfortable. Or should I say more uncomfortable? It would be an
understatement to say that I was rather ill at ease to begin with. As
the seconds dragged into minutes, I actually began to get impatient. I
don't know what I had expected from him, but I know I didn't like him
standing there just staring at me like that.
"So, uh, you just gonna stand there all day?" I asked, trying
to sound light, but I couldn't keep a note of irritation from seeping
into my voice. I hugged my arms closer, wanting nothing more than to
bury them underneath the blankets. But that would make me look
nervous, wouldn't it? Nope, couldn't have that. I had to play it as
cool as possible.
Heero finally stepped into the cubicle, and sat in the chair
next to the bed. He continued to look at me with that piercing glare.
I tore my eyes away and started to ramble.
"You still haven't told me what's up. Have you been hanging
around here all day? You didn't have to do that. That nurse is pretty
weird, huh? Nice, but weird. That doctor, though, he had a stick up
his ass or something. Have you eaten? Is the hospital food edible? Not
that I'm really all that hungry or anything, but you know how
disgusting hospital food is supposed to be and I've always been
curious as to whether it lives up to its reputation. Or lives down to
its reputation, as the case may be..."
"Why?" Heero interrupted, halting my inane monologue. I looked
at him. I supposed that I could play dumb, pretend that I didn't know
what he was talking about, but I knew what he meant. It was the
question I'd been dreading, the question they would all ask. And I
didn't really have an answer. How could I explain to them what I
couldn't even explain to myself?
I sighed and looked away, suddenly taking great interest in
examining the wall. I carefully mulled over my options. There was no
way I could continue to plausibly deny that I had a problem. The very
idea of doing so was ludicrous at this point. But what did that leave
me? Spilling my guts to them, crying on their shoulders? I nearly
cringed at the idea. They'd all seen me at the lowest point of my life
last night, but somehow the idea of being that open and vulnerable to
them was still... unacceptable. Maybe I could no longer deny that I
was messed up, but that didn't mean that I felt any more at ease with
the idea of them seeing me messed up. So... not act like I was
upset? Tell the truth, more or less. But don't make a big deal out of
it. Hmmm, tell the truth, what a concept for Duo Maxwell, Mr.
Never-Tells-a-Lie, huh?
So I summoned all of my self-control and looked Heero straight
in the eyes. "I don't really know, Heero. I guess it just seemed to be
the thing to do at the time," I replied flippantly, with a smirk on my
face. I was quite proud of myself. Neither my voice nor my gaze
faltered for one second. And every word was true.
Heero's eyes widened, and his mouth opened, then closed again.
My smirk widened into a grin, and damnit if it wasn't partly genuine.
I seemed to have thrown the Perfect Soldier for a loop. But then he
scowled, his eyes flashing anger.
"How... how can you JOKE about this?" he seethed. God, he was
furious! I didn't know what to make of the strength of his reaction.
Now it was me who was thrown for a loop. I concentrated on taking a
few calm, even breaths. I had to keep my cool, not let him see any
evidence of what I was really feeling.
"Well, why not? It's not like it's a life or death situation,"
I said slyly, raising one eyebrow at him.
He glared at me in disbelief. He jumped to his feet and for
one brief moment I was afraid he was actually going to hit me. I
unconsciously sunk back into the bed a bit, but not for a second did
my smirk waver.
"Baka!" he finally spat out, and I just barely managed to
suppress a wince. "I thought you were going to die! I thought I...
I..." He broke off and sharply turned around, stomping out of the
cubicle. I stared after him, baffled. I'd never seen him act like that
in the entire time that I'd known him. There had been something in his
eyes, behind the anger... I couldn't exactly place it, but it made me
very uncomfortable.
I sighed. That hadn't exactly gone well. But should I really
be all that surprised? Even Heero couldn't be expected to take a
situation like this in a stride. I rubbed my aching head. This whole
thing was a horrible mess. But at least I knew I hadn't lost my
joker's mask.
A few minutes later Hilde appeared in the entrance to the
cubicle. Her eyes were red from crying. It was getting to be a
familiar look for her. And it was all my fault. She hovered in the
doorway, looking at me with wide, uncertain eyes. I quirked a smile at
her, and she smiled back, relief washing over her features. She
suddenly rushed forward and threw her arms around me, rather awkwardly
since I was lying in bed. Surprised, I tentatively returned her
embrace, even though it hurt the stitches on my chest.
"Oh, Duo, you scared me so much! I thought you were going to
die! I'm so happy you're okay. Why did you do that, Duo, why?" she
asked, the words spilling from her mouth in a frantic torrent. She
finally pulled back, sitting in the chair as she wiped a few fresh
tears from her eyes.
That question again. Why? I pushed down my embarrassment and
prepared to continue playing it cool. I had to be careful, though,
this certainly wasn't going to work if I made them all angry, like
Heero. I composed a sheepish look on my face and smiled ruefully.
"I guess I went a little loopy. Sorry I scared you," I said
lightly. Hilde raised one eyebrow and looked at me as if I'd suddenly
sprouted a second head. I grinned innocently.
"Um... okay," she said, sounding puzzled. She looked like she
was going to say more, but stopped. Instead, she composed a fake
bright smile of her own. I suddenly realized that she wasn't pushing
the matter out of fear of upsetting me. Great. Just great. That's all
I needed, her treating me like a piece of glass. My mind raced. How
could I fix this? Could I fix this? Damn, damn, damn!
"Look," I said, still grinning vacuously. It took physical
effort to keep my muscles from locking up with tension. "I meant it. I
think it's pretty obvious by now that I'm... not right in the head."
That's it, keep smiling, act casual, not like you're admitting aloud
for the first time that you're a fucking psycho. "Loopy, wacko, not
playing with a full deck, whatever." I crossed my eyes and twirled my
finger in a circular motion next to my ear for effect. Hilde looked
like she didn't know if she should laugh or cry. "And I kind of...
lost it there last night. I really am sorry I scared you. Like I told
Heero, it just seemed like the thing to do at the time. So how is
Heero anyway? I think I really pissed him off." I inquired, grinning
mischievously. I was honestly curious about that, but more than
anything I was grateful for the opportunity to smoothly change the
subject.
Hilde gave me a piercing, yet uncertain look. She knew I was
trying to change the subject (hell, it's not like I was being subtle),
but she was also perplexed by the things I'd just said. She seemed to
be trying to decide whether or not she should pursue the subject or
let it slide. I looked away from her gaze, which threatened to peel
away all my defenses.
"Well...," she began slowly. "Heero stormed out of here with
murder on his face, but he didn't say anything."
"Heero left?" I asked, not knowing how to interpret the
flicker of emotion that stirred up in my chest at that thought.
"I don't think he left the hospital, he just stormed away from
us. What did you say to him, anyway? I've never seen him so angry!"
Hilde replied.
I decided not to point out that she actually hadn't seen him
all that often. "Well, I guess I kind of just joked around with him,
and he wasn't impressed. Then I joked that this wasn't a life or death
situation and he just lost it," I answered.
Hilde stared at me wide-eyed. "You really shouldn't joke
around about it, Duo." She reached out and gripped my hand, pulling my
arm forward a bit in the process, and I resisted the urge to pull away
since she was making my scars more visible. "Heero was very scared for
you. We all were."
I looked at her like she was the one who was loopy. Heero?
Scared? Was she on crack or something? "Hilde my dear, Heero doesn't
get scared. Especially over me. He's Mr. Superhuman Emotionless
Perfect Soldier." I was surprised by the hint of bitterness that had
entered my voice. Why should I care?
Hilde gave me an incredulous look. "Are you really that blind?
Of course he cares about you! He cares a lot! He was frantic last
week when we were looking for you. And you should have seen him last
night..." Her voice trailed off and she lowered her eyes. Apparently
she was about as eager to dwell on it as I was. But I reasoned that if
I didn't seem reluctant to talk about it, then it would reflect better
on me. Ah, the reasoning of the unreasonable.
Besides, my morbid curiosity really made me want to know what
had happened after I had lost consciousness. How had I ended up in the
emergency room before it was too late? I still couldn't decide if it
that had been a good thing or not, and I was reluctant to dwell on
that particular question. And what she was saying about Heero was
confusing the hell out of me.
"So, uh, what exactly happened last night?" I asked brightly,
impressed that I managed to sound so casual while inquiring about how
I had been saved from my suicide attempt. I looked at her, but
couldn't quite make my eyes meet hers. As it turned out, I didn't have
to, since she dropped her gaze to the floor, looking very
uncomfortable. When she finally began to speak, I could tell that it
was taking all or her self-control to keep the slight tremor in her
voice to a minimum. Guilt twisted in my stomach.
"Well, I was woken in the middle of the night by Quatre. Tears
were flowing down his face, and I immediately feared the worst. He
said that they'd just called an ambulance, that Heero had heard a thud
in the bathroom and when he'd investigated he'd found you... p-passed
out on the floor. The empty bottle sitting on the sink made it pretty
obvious what you'd done. I... I can't even begin to tell you how
scared I was as I hastily pulled on some clothes and rushed to your
bathroom. All I could think was that it was too late, that we were
going to lose you. When I got there, Quatre was crying in Trowa's
arms. Trowa's face was pale and grim, and he was holding Quatre so
tightly I couldn't believe he wasn't crushing him. Wufei was talking
urgently to a dazed servant, instructing him to go down and wait for
the paramedics and to quickly show them up when they arrived. He was
trying not to show it, but I could tell he was really shaken. And
then... then I saw you, lying on the floor. And you were so pale... so
pale... and covered in all those scars..." She wrapped her arms around
herself, shuddering. I swallowed hard, morbidly transfixed by her
words even as my stomach was twisting into knots. "I was sure it was
too late. But Heero was kneeling next to you, frantically giving you
CPR. His eyes were shining strangely, like there were tears that
wanted to fall, but he wouldn't let them. And he was chanting to
himself, 'Don't die, don't die, please don't die, you can't die,' over
and over again. Wufei had to pull him away from you when the
paramedics got there, he didn't want to leave your side. Then he just
watched them work, his fists clenched, his eyes blazing. Then I heard
the paramedics say that you were still alive." She looked up at me
then, her eyes glistening. "And I was so relieved, I thought I'd
die. It was when they brought the stretcher in and lifted you on it
that I finally noticed the blood on your chest and on the floor. I
must have asked about it out loud, because Wufei told me what you'd
done, his voice hollow. I couldn't believe it, especially when he'd
told me what the words were." She stared at me intensely, the
confusion written across her face. "Why did you even feel the need?"
I could only shake my head in indication that I did not have
an answer, for her or for myself. My mind was spinning with what she'd
told me. Heero had heard the thud. Christ, he must have come in just
after I lost consciousness. Suddenly I was very glad I hadn't been
awake to see the look on his face when he'd found me.
"Quatre's limo followed the ambulance here, and we had to
watch from the hallway why they worked on you. Then you woke up, and I
guess you know what happened after that. I had to watch while my best
friend in the whole world fought the doctors who were trying to save
his life, fought to die. Watch while they strapped him down and shoved
a tube down his nose to pump the aspirin he'd swallowed out of his
stomach!" Her voice was hoarse from unshed tears, and I flinched at
the anger in it. But she was right. How could I have done that to
them? I hadn't slit my wrists because I'd been worried about getting
blood all over Quatre's bathroom. Christ, hadn't I realized that
finding me dead from an OD wouldn't have been any better? How could I
have tried to kill myself in my friend's house, with everyone there?
How could I have been so stupid as to follow that up with fighting the
doctors in the ER, while my horrified friends watched? How could I
have done that to them!? I should have crawled off somewhere to die
alone...
Suddenly Hilde's face blanched. "Oh God, Duo, I'm so sorry! I
didn't mean it, I didn't mean to blame you! You just scared me so
badly. And please don't ever say that we don't care about you. Any of
us. Especially Heero. You didn't see his face, Duo. You didn't see him
pounding on your chest, begging you not to die."
"It's okay, Hilde, you had every right to say what you said.
I'm not upset," I soothed her as my mind reeled. Christ, this was all
too much to process. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't picture
Heero visibly upset. Then again, if you'd asked me yesterday if I
could picture Heero seriously pissed off, I would have said no.
Confusing. This was all very, very confusing. "Um, is there a bathroom
around here? I gotta take a leak," I inquired, twisting my mouth into
my trademark smirk. You'd never guess I'd just heard the story of my
suicide attempt.
"Uh, yeah, I think there's one just outside the cubicle
actually. But are you sure you should get out of bed? Maybe I should
find the nurse," Hilde replied. She was wiping her cheeks, though
she'd managed not to cry during her story.
"No, no, that's not necessary," I said as I started to ease
myself out of the bed, wishing fervently that I had something to cover
up my arms. But hell, it wasn't like she hadn't already seen them at
this point, huh? I swayed a little on my fit, a bit lightheaded, and
grabbed onto the wall for support. Hilde rushed over to help me. I
felt really pathetic, but I let her help me shuffle out of the
cubicle, pulling the cart with my vitals monitor along with us.
Couldn't disconnect the thing and let everyone think I was dead, now
could we?
We stepped out of the cubicle and I saw that it was in fact a
large medical ward filled with similar cubicles, offering the patients
a fair bit of privacy. From the nurse's station in the middle of the
room, the wacky nurse from before gave us a small disapproving frown,
which disappeared when I grinned cheekily and waved at her. Seeing
that we were okay, she let us continue. There was indeed a small
bathroom in the corner, only a few steps from my cubicle.
"Don't worry, I won't try to drown myself in the toilet," I
quipped as I closed the door behind me, leaving a surprised Hilde
outside.
Alone in the bathroom, I leaned back against the door, letting
out a deep breath. It was all I could do not to scream in frustration.
How had I gotten into this mess? How could I have done this to my
friends? What was going on with Heero? And why did thinking about him
make my stomach flop in a most peculiar fashion? Why, why, WHY? It
seemed like that was the magic question.
I looked at my reflection. Staring back at myself, I suddenly
remembered how it'd felt, watching the other me in the mirror swallow
pill after pill. It had been like watching another person, not like I
was doing it at all. The memory was surreal. But I had done it. And
now I couldn't take it back. I had tried to kill myself. Attempted
suicide. Tried to take my life with my own hands. And I still didn't
know if… if I should try it again, away from the others, so that they
wouldn't be hurt.
I found myself rubbing absently at the bandage on my chest
through my hospital gown. It itched. Suddenly I wanted to see it. I
pulled my hospital gown off, taking care not to dislodge the heart
monitor. Then I carefully pulled back the bandage, exposing the
stitched words to view. I stared at them in the mirror, a lump in my
throat. Though they appeared backwards in the mirror, I knew what they
said. What was it Hilde had asked? 'Why did you even feel the need?'
How could I not? But it had been foolish. What had I been thinking to
write that? Why ask for something you don't deserve, and can't
possibly expect to get? Jaw clenched, heart constricting, I lightly
traced over the letters with my finger.
F-O-R-G-I-V-E M-E.
Forgive me.
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***
Part 17
After replacing the bandage over my stitches and emptying my
bladder, I emerged from the bathroom with a vacuous grin on my face,
giving no indication of the turmoil I felt inside. Hilde helped me
shuffle back to my bed, since I was still a little unsteady on my
feet. Once I was settled back in, she announced that it was time she
let someone else in to see me.
"It wasn't even supposed to my turn now," she said sheepishly.
"I was the last to see you before you woke up. Heero insisted on being
the first to see you then, and I insisted on going after him.
Technically, it was Trowa's turn after mine." The unwelcome impression
of feeling like a circus freak, with everyone taking their turn to
come and gape at me, crossed my mind, but I merely smiled at
her. "Um, I'll see if I can find out where Heero went, too," she
added. She hugged me again, squeezing me so hard I thought she might
fracture a rib, before turning to leave. She paused in the doorway,
giving me one last uncertain look over her shoulder. Then she was
gone.
I practically fell apart the moment she disappeared from
sight. I brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my
legs, hugging them tightly. It put pressure on my stitches, causing
tingles of pain, but I didn't care. If anything, I squeezed harder,
trying to focus on the feeling, and clear my mind. I realized I was
trembling. I had no idea why. Maybe it was all getting to me. Hearing
the story of what had happened last night, Heero's anger, Hilde's
concern… all of it. So where did I fit into all of this mess? What
the hell was I supposed to do now? I rocked back and forth, crushing
my knees to my chest, feeling some serious pain from the stitches now,
and dangerously close to tears.
"Get a hold of yourself, man," I murmured to myself. "You can't
let anyone see you like this!" And Trowa would be there any minute. I
didn't understand what was happening. I'd been perfectly fine, more or
less, only a few moments before. Maybe pretending for Hilde had been
harder than I'd thought. Maybe hearing about my suicide attempt had
upset me more than I'd realized. The words replayed in my head.
'Hearing about my suicide attempt.' My suicide attempt, for Christ's
sake. It was hitting me all over again. The fucking reality of it. I
had really done it. I couldn't take it back. I grit my teeth against
the sudden urge I had to pound my fists against the bed railing, to
smash my head against the wall, to make myself hurt and bleed and
suffer for being so goddamned stupid!
"Duo?" said an uncertain voice, accompanied by a soft touch to
my shoulder. I froze, my eyes snapping open. I hadn't even realized
that I'd closed them, or that I had buried my face in my knees, with
my arms wrapped up around my head and my hands clenched into tight
fists. With great physical effort, I made my body untangle so that I
could lean back and look at the person next to me. It was Trowa,
looking the closest to scared that I've ever seen him. Which, for
Trowa, meant that he still looked pretty damn calm. I made myself
smile.
"Hey, Trowa," I said brightly, hating the falseness in my
voice. He continued to simply look at me for a long moment, then his
gaze traveled downward. He reached out and took one of my hands into
his own. My gaze followed his and I stared dumbly before finally
realizing that my hands were still clasped tightly into fists. So
tightly, in fact, that my nails were drawing blood from my palms.
Trowa gently began to uncurl my fingers.
"It's okay, Duo, just relax," he said quietly. I took a deep,
shuddering breath, and forced the muscles to unclench. I stared numbly
at the red half-moons gouged into my palms, their sting barely
registering in my mind. Trowa had released my hand and had pulled the
visitor's chair closer to the bed. He was sitting there, just looking
at me again.
I couldn't bring myself to return his gaze. My cheeks burned
with shame. I was horrified that he had seen me like that. I took
several more deep breaths, rubbing my chest uncomfortably. There was a
strange ache in my heart, and I could have sworn that it felt like my
insides were trembling. It was taking every ounce of my self-control
not to absolutely fall to pieces. I turned my head completely away
from Trowa, not wanting him to see the stricken look I was sure was on
my face. I heard him shift forward in the chair, and then he spoke.
"Duo, there's something I have to tell you. I... I think now
that it probably would have been better if I had told you sooner. Then
maybe... this could have been avoided." I was shocked by the
uncertainty in his voice, but I still didn't turn my face. I wiped
furiously at the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes, every
muscle in my body feeling uncomfortably tense. I wanted to be anywhere
but here, feeling like this. Trowa continued to speak.
"The only other person I've ever told about this is Quatre. We
talked at great length over the past couple of days about whether or
not I should tell you, but hadn't arrived at any real decision when...
when last night happened. It's clear to me now that I should have told
you as soon as your problem became apparent. In fact, I hope you can
forgive me for not realizing what you were going through much sooner.
I should have known, should have recognized what you were feeling." He
paused, taking a deep breath. I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. I
think that subconsciously I already had an idea of where he was going
with this, though mostly I was just confused. "None of us could really
be described as having an idyllic childhood," he continued, "not even
Quatre. But some of us had it… especially bad. You've never really
talked about your past, but you've never mentioned any family, and
there's just always been something about you that led me to suspect
that you were alone, like me." He paused again. It was obvious that
this was difficult for him to talk about.
"Listen, Trowa, you don't have to..." I started, my voice
catching.
"Yes, I do!" he interrupted sharply, surprising me. I didn't
think I'd ever heard Trowa raise his voice before. I covered my face
with my hands, part of me incredibly curious about what he had to say,
and another part of me just not wanting to hear this right now.
Talking about the past was not one of my favorite things to do. "I need
to tell you this, and I think you need to hear it. I was... alone, my
whole life. I grew up with mercenaries. It... was not easy, being
young and vulnerable and alone with them. You know what I mean?" The
unspoken implication hung heavy in the air. But I knew. Oh, yes, I
knew. "Well, I had a hard time dealing with what happened, even after
it was over. I was... very depressed, Duo. For a long time. And then
one night, when I was about fourteen, I thought I found the answer.
Look at me, Duo." I shook my head, my face still buried in my hands. I
didn't want to know, I didn't want to know! "Look at me!" he demanded.
Resigned, tears clouding my eyes, I looked at him, and inhaled
sharply.
He had rolled up his left sleeve. A single, thick ropey scar
snaked from his wrist almost all the way up to his elbow. A lot of
things fell into place. Like how Trowa had almost seemed to
understand, when no one else did. And the things he'd said to me
yesterday. Trowa did understand, at least a little. He'd gone
through something similar himself. I couldn't take my eyes away from
that scar.
"They say it's a miracle I survived, since I laid the whole
artery open. It was dumb luck that I was found almost immediately. It
was right after that that I went to work on Heavyarms. And I found a
purpose for my life, fighting for the colonies. My depression would
undoubtedly have returned after the war, though, if that had been
that. But I found Quatre. I let him love me. And I let myself love him
in return. I let Catherine love me, and suddenly I had a family, and I
wasn't alone anymore. I let myself believe that I had friends who
cared about me, and I cared about them, too. I meant what I told you
yesterday, Duo, that we all care about you, and that we're here to
help you, if you'll let us. I've probably made it sound a lot more
simple than it really is. I won't lie to you, it's not easy to get
past something like this. And I won't tell you that I know exactly
what you're going through. No two people experience things in exactly
the same way. But we're here for you. And I am truly sorry for having
failed you. I more than any of the others should have known."
"No, Trowa! It's not your fault!" I stammered, even as a voice
in the back of my head wanted to blame all of them for not seeing what
I had thought painfully obvious. "I-I'm the one who has reason to be
sorry. I… I…" Words failed me, and I wrapped my arms around my chest,
clamping my eyes shut and gritting my teeth, fighting with every fiber
of my being against the sobs that threatened to break forth.
Suddenly Trowa was on his feet and standing beside me again,
his hand on my back. "It's okay to cry, Duo. There's no shame in it.
It's not good to let things fester inside of you. You have to let them
out now and then, not keep them bottled inside."
Shaking my head, I let out a bark of hysterical laughter. "Do
you know," I gasped between hitching breaths, "how funny that is
coming from you!?" I rubbed furiously at my face, forcing everything
down, down, down.... I was not upset, everything was just fine,
thank you, and I certainly did not feel like curling up into a ball
and sobbing until I died. After a few moments I managed to get myself
under control. At least I looked like I was under control. In reality,
I was terrified by just how out of control I felt. I couldn't
believe how close I was to just completely falling apart. I couldn't
let that happen, not in front of Trowa, not in front of anyone. I
turned to Trowa and smirked.
"Besides, I'm fine. I really am. Everything's going to be
okay," I said firmly, not believing a single word of it. But what else
could I say? It's not like I could just ask him for help, just like
that. Trowa just looked at me with his usual stoic statement, not
believing a single word of it either. And I could hardly blame him. I
was obviously far from 'fine'. My feeble denials were pathetic even to
my own ears. But I couldn't stop spewing them. "I'm a little loopy,
but it's no big deal. I really am sorry for scaring everyone. You guys
didn't deserve that, though you are over-reacting anyway. I'm sorry
you all had to deal with this mess. It won't happen again." Trowa
frowned slightly. I could have sworn he looked disappointed with me. I
faltered a little, but continued rambling. "Um, thank you for, ah,
sharing your story with me, but I'm okay, you know? I'm, ah, perfectly
fine and everything's okay..." My overly chipper voice trailed off
uncertainly. What was the point, anyway? We both knew it was bullshit.
I turned away, my insides twisting painfully. I clenched my fists
again, purposely digging my fingernails further into the gouges from
earlier. The pain was slight, pathetic. No help at all.
Trowa sighed and walked to the door. He paused, but didn't
look back, even when he started to speak. "You're right about one
thing, Duo. It was strange advice to be coming from me. I'd be lying
if I said I was comfortable sharing my feelings with everyone. Quatre,
and to a lesser extent Catherine, are the people with whom I can truly
be myself. But open up to someone, Duo, and soon. The pain is
poisoning you from the inside out." With that he was gone, and I was
once again alone.
I pounded my fist on the bed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I cursed
under my breath. This wasn't going well at all! I was completely and
thoroughly thrown for a loop by Trowa's revelation. And I was so
fucked up, never more than a step away from being a whimpering,
sniveling mess. How pathetic can you get? Stupid, stupid, stupid! I
was so fucking stupid. I needed to get away from here, go anywhere,
be anywhere but in this place. I was going to explode. I wanted to
cut, I wanted a drink, I wanted out of this skin. Why couldn't
it all just go away? With a half-choked cry of frustration I grabbed
the nearest object, a plastic cup sitting on the table next to me, and
hurled it across the room. It hit the wall next to the doorjamb with
an audible crack, not even a foot away from the head of the young
woman who had suddenly appeared in the doorway. She jumped, startled
by coming so close to being hit by the flying projectile, before
looking at me with a bemused statement.
"Hi. My name's Anne. I'm here to evaluate your mental
stability," she said, grinning.
I couldn't help it. I started to laugh.
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***
Part 18
There was an hysterical edge to the laughter, as if at any
moment it would dissolve into sobs. I knew I had to get myself under
control, and fast. The woman, Anne, was giving me a measuring look,
her bemused statement quickly fading. She walked over to me and put
her hand on my arm. I jerked away reflexively.
"It's okay to cry if you need to. I won't think any less of
you,' she said soothingly. Christ, what was it with everyone wanting
me to cry? Her words echoed the ones Trowa had spoken not even five
minutes ago. I shook my head, reigning in the half-laughter,
half-sobbing until it had finally subsided and I was left taking deep
breaths in an effort to catch my breath.
"I'm fine," I said. "It was just funny, you know, you walking
in and making your pronouncement right after I threw a cup at the
wall. Not exactly a winning first impression, I'm sure." There was no
way I was even going to attempt to explain to her that her words had
been amusing and ridiculous on so many other levels. She smiled
faintly before stepping back and sitting in the chair.
"I won't hold that against you either. Everyone feels
frustrated at times. I would be more concerned if you weren't
experiencing strong emotions right now, considering the
circumstances," she said. I eyed her warily, suddenly realizing the
significance of her visit. She must be the one who would decide
whether or not they were going to lock me up in the psych ward. Fear
tingled in my stomach. I swallowed hard and tried to appear as sane as
possible.
"I'll start off by explaining more fully why I'm here. I'm a
therapist with the hospital. Our normal protocol when a patient is
brought in following a suicide attempt," I barely managed to suppress
a wince, "is to admit them to the ICU until they are stabilized.
Following that we administer an evaluation to determine if the patient
still poses a significant threat to themselves, in which case they are
admitted to the psych ward for a complete two-week evaluation.
Otherwise they are transferred to the general ward until they are well
enough to leave," she explained matter-of-factly. I had to look away.
I wondered if she realized how cold she sounded. Probably not. She
probably thought she was being 'warm' and 'compassionate'. I mentally
cringed. I was being unfair. She probably had only the best
intentions. It wasn't her fault that she couldn't possibly understand.
"Now, Duo," she continued, "why don't you start off by telling
me what happened last night?" I immediately bristled. How was I going
to play this? How could I convince her I wasn't a danger to myself,
when in all probability I was a danger to myself? The thought nearly
made me cringe, as realization sunk in. I was. I really was. I was
exactly the kind of person that they locked away. A danger to myself.
The words echoed hollowly in my head. Someone who couldn't be trusted
not to hurt themselves. Who had to be kept under watch, 'for their own
good'. I shuddered.
"Duo?" Anne asked, her voice breaking through my reverie.
Christ, how long had I been sitting there staring off into space?
"Well, uh, you should know what happened. I'm sure they told
you. I swallowed a bunch of pills, and my friends found me and brought
me to the hospital," I stammered, sounding a lot more irritable than I
liked.
"Well, could you explain to me why you took those pills?" she
asked. I fidgeted. How was I supposed to answer that?
"I, uh, had a bad day," I offered lamely. What, was I supposed
to try to explain to her the awful all-consuming pain that I was
living in, that everything hurt, that just being fucking alive hurt,
and that I had decided that it was too much to take anymore? As if
even that could possibly fully explain it? How could I be expected to
explain it to her when I couldn't even explain it to myself, when I
didn't think there really was an explanation that could fully impart
to her the pain and the suffering and the abject misery I was going
through? There were no words that could sufficiently give voice to the
depth of my agony. I swallowed hard, my chest aching. Anne merely
nodded and wrote something in the clipboard that I hadn't noticed she
was carrying. I grimaced and looked away. There's nothing quite like
having someone writing in a clipboard while you're talking to them to
make you feel like you're a specimen under observation.
"Do you often have 'bad days'? How about those scars on your
arms and legs, are they another way that you deal with bad days?" she
asked. I gave her an incredulous look, but she wasn't even looking at
me, she was still scribbling on that clipboard. God, weren't
therapists supposed to have a bit more tact than that? And what could
she be writing? I'd barely said a thing to her!
"I guess...," I said slowly, measuring my words carefully.
Uneasiness coiled in my stomach. I didn't want to talk about this. At
least she wasn't looking at me. I wrapped my arms protectively around
myself, trying in vain to hide the scars she'd just drawn my attention
to. Not that it worked, considering there were scars on the backs of
my arms as well. I figured I should elaborate a bit more on my answer,
even if I wanted nothing more than to crawl away and hide in a corner
somewhere, anything but be here. "Um, I know it's not exactly the best
way to deal with things, and I am getting help with it. And bad days
come and go, just like with anybody else. I'm certainly not eager to
repeat this... incident."
I reasoned that it was not an entirely untruthful answer. I
certainly did know, all too well, that cutting was a stupid thing to
do. I hated myself for doing it. I just couldn't stop. And
technically, I had gone to Dr. Mitchell for 'help', even if it wasn't
working out, and I knew that there was no chance in hell that she'd
actually be able to help me. And I sure as hell didn't want this
incident to be repeated, but... that didn't necessarily mean I
couldn't make sure I did it right next time. If there was a next time.
Fuck, I sure as hell didn't want to think about that right now!
Anne actually looked up for a moment before returning her
attention to her clipboard. "So you are currently in therapy?" she
asked, sounding pleased. I nodded eagerly, even though she wasn't
looking at me. If she was happy about it, I was sure as hell going to
play on it.
"Yeah, I just started seeing Dr. Mitchell over at Everett
three times a week. I think, given a chance, it'll be really good for
me! Make sure nothing like this ever happens again. I have an
appointment with her tomorrow, in fact, and I have every intention of
being there," I lied. "That is, uh, if you guys let me out of here," I
added sheepishly. I hated lying, but I couldn't exactly tell her that
I was never going to go see Dr. Mitchell again, not if I could help
it. And if she thought I was going to be willingly seeing someone,
that was a better option than locking me up against my will, right?
Anne was nodding again. "Yes, Dr. Mitchell has an excellent
reputation. I'm glad that you are already in the process of seeking
help. It's a very good sign." She finally looked at me straight on. I
met her gaze and tried to appear open and at ease. "So, if you are
released from the hospital tomorrow, are you going to try to harm
yourself again?"
I blinked. It took actual physical effort to keep from
blurting out 'Are you for real?' I didn't think that would go over too
well. But I mean, c'mon! What did she expect me to say? 'Why yes, yes
I will! You better keep me here, because if you let me out the first
thing I'm going to do is go and find a razor and slash my wrists. So
by all means, lock me up and throw away the key!' I couldn't believe
she was asking this. But she was, so I had to give some kind of
answer.
I shook my head gravely. "No, I'm not. I realize what a
horrible mistake this was. I'm going to go see Dr. Mitchell, and do my
best to get better. I don't want to put my friends through this again.
I want to get better. I'm never going to… do this again." There. I had
absolutely oozed sincerity. Hopefully she bought it.
She was nodding again. Christ, was there a spring in her neck
or something? She scribbled some more. "Well, you seem to be in a
positive state of mind. Nothing like what the ER doctors described
last night. You're in therapy and are expressing an honest desire to
recover. I can see no benefit in keeping you here. You'll be
transferred to the general ward for one more day of observation to
ensure you've fully recovered from your overdose. You'll be released
from the hospital tomorrow." She smiled at me. "I'll send a nurse to
bring you to your new room. I'm pleased that you have such a good
attitude about this Duo. Good luck with your therapy." She stood up
and left, leaving me staring dumbly at the door.
That was it? She'd asked me maybe four or five questions, and
had been with me for at most five minutes, and she had made her
decision based on that? Of course I was relieved that she wasn't going
to lock me up, but... it was disturbing on some level that she has
been so easy to fool. She'd held my future in her hands and had
blithely made conclusions about me based on a five-minute
'evaluation'. The wrong conclusions, unsurprisingly. Positive state
of mind? ME? Fuck! How can anyone evaluate anything properly in five
minutes, let alone a person's mental stability! And why was I getting
so upset over this? I should be happy! But I couldn't shake the
feeling that I had been... cheated somehow. Overlooked, invisible,
inconsequential.
Fuck! Why was this bothering me so much? I shook my head in
frustration. This was a good thing, right? I was never going to see
her again, and she probably saw a dozen wackos a day, why should I
have expected her to really care? It was a good thing that she
hadn't asked me about my behaviour in the ER, that she hadn't even
asked me how I was feeling, or if I was okay...
I had to swallow back the lump that suddenly appeared in my
throat. Was that it? I wanted a complete stranger to care about me? To
ask me if I was okay? I hugged my knees to my chest, putting pressure
on the stitches. For the whole year of the war, all I had wanted was
for somebody to ask me if I was okay, and to sincerely mean it. To
care. And why? I probably would have just lied anyway. But they still
could have asked. And my friends did care, didn't they? Hadn't they
shown that today? So why did it still feel like they didn't? Maybe…
maybe because they still didn't even know me, so how could they care
about me? They cared about who they thought Duo Maxwell was. But Duo
Maxwell wasn't even a real person. I made him up. Maybe what was
upsetting me was how easily everyone accepted this façade I put
forward, even now. There was a real person under here, damnit! It's
just that nobody bothered to notice that little fact. I was
insignificant. My friends didn't want me to get better, they wanted
Duo to act the way he had before. I couldn't really blame them,
though, could I? Who wants to deal with a mental case? I wiped
furiously at the tears that had leaked from the corners of my eyes.
Just then a nurse came in, pushing a wheelchair. On reflex, I
smiled brightly for her. She smiled back and motioned at the chair.
"I'm here to move you out of the ICU and into the general
ward. Lucky you, you get a private room all to yourself. Your friend
Mr. Winner arranged for it," she said. I blinked, but then realized I
shouldn't really be surprised. Quatre had never been one to deny his
friends the comfort of his money. The nurse did one last check of my
vitals, while I chatted with her amiably, trying to hide how
uncomfortable I was with my scars on display. She acted like she
didn't even notice them, though. Satisfied, she unhooked the heart
monitor and helped me into the wheelchair. I felt rather silly being
wheeled about like an invalid, but she insisted that it was hospital
policy, and to tell the truth, I was still rather light-headed and
dizzy when I stood up. I guess swallowing a hundred aspirin will do
that to you. Go figure.
When we got to my new room, she helped me into the bed.
Without a doubt, it was a lot nicer than the cubicle in the ICU. It
even had a TV. And I realized then how horrible it would have been
being in a room with other people who had 'normal' injuries and
sicknesses, with my scars on display and them all probably knowing why
I was there. Thank you, Quatre.
"You're friends will be in shortly, but they can't stay long
since visiting hours are almost over," the nurse informed me.
"All of them?" I asked, surprised.
"Yup. There's no limit to the number of visitors you can have
at a time in a private room." With that she was gone. Fuck. Dealing
with them one at a time had been bad enough. How was I supposed to
handle them all at the same time? I wished fervently that I at least
had long sleeves. Then maybe I wouldn't have felt so vulnerable. But
it's not like they hadn't seen my scars at this point. The thought,
unsurprisingly, brought me no comfort.
There was a hesitant knock on the door. I looked up to see a
bunch of people clustered in the doorway, headed up by an extremely
nervous looking Quatre. I had a moment of complete and utter panic,
but quickly swallowed it back. I plastered a grin on my face.
"Hey, Q-man, thanks for the fancy digs! You sure know how to
treat a person right." I said. His lower lip actually trembled for a
moment, then he launched himself forward and hugged me. "Whoa, there!
I'm fine, there's no need to get all worked up." I rubbed his back
soothingly. After a moment he pulled away and smiled at me
apologetically.
"I'm sorry… it's just… for a while there I thought I might
never see you again. You scared me so much, Duo," he said, wiping the
tears from his face. It was my turn to smile apologetically.
"I know. And I'm sorry," I said. It was true. I really was
sorry that I had hurt him, and the others, too. I turned my attention
to the others, who were quietly filing into the room. Trowa, Wufei,
Hilde, and, oh crap, Sally. I noticed with a pang that Heero was
nowhere to be seen. As if reading my mind, Hilde spoke up.
"I looked everywhere for him, but I guess he left the hospital
grounds. I'm sure he'll be back to see you tomorrow," she said
reassuringly. I just nodded, uncomfortable with the disappointment I
was feeling. So what if Heero had left? It just meant that there was
one less person that I had to perform for.
Sally came to stand by the side of the bed, just looking at
me. Frankly, she looked like crap, like she hadn't slept in two days.
Several emotions warred on her face. She turned away. I realized
suddenly that she was blaming herself, that she probably thought this
wouldn't have happened if she hadn't gone back to L2. I reached out
and grabbed her arm, and she turned back. "It's not your fault," I
said quietly. She nodded curtly before going to sit in the chair in
the corner.
Everyone else was standing around in an uncomfortable silence.
I couldn't imagine a more awkward situation. None of them could even
really look at me. I wanted to curl up and die. If someone didn't say
or do something soon, I was going to explode.
As if on cue, Wufei cleared his throat. "So, they tell us
you'll be released from the hospital tomorrow morning." I swear, even
under the circumstances, I couldn't help but feel an evil thrill at
Wufei looking uncomfortable. It's just not something you see everyday.
"Yup, no loony bin for me," I said, then winced. That probably
hadn't been the best thing to say. Everyone looked even more
uncomfortable, and Wufei looked vaguely horrified. "Shit, I'm sorry.
Yeah, they're letting me out tomorrow. They decided I was no longer...
no longer a danger to myself." I couldn't believe I'd gotten those
words past my lips.
"Oh? How did they decide that?" Quatre asked. Then a look of
horror crossed his face. "Not that I meant that they're wrong or
anything! I was just curious..."
I smiled at him, even though what I really wanted to do was
flee the room. "I know what you meant. Some therapist came and talked
to me, said she was 'evaluating my mental stability.' I guess she was
satisfied, cause she said I didn't have to go to the... the psych
ward." My face burned with embarrassment. I hoped it didn't show. It's
just that I couldn't believe I was sitting there, discussing my close
brush with being locked away in a psych ward! The very idea was making
my skin crawl. It left me feeling indescribably exposed and
vulnerable, for them to know that about me. That my ability to
function as a normal human being had been called into question. Not
that I had anyone to blame but myself. There was just something about
having the possibility dangled in front of your face, like people
saying 'You're no good on your own. You can't be trusted. You have to
be shut away for your own good.' I couldn't suppress a shudder. Quatre
looked at me with concern. "I'm fine," I assured him, "just tired.
It's… been a long day."
"How long did you talk with the therapist?" Sally suddenly
asked from her corner. Panic gripped me. Why did she want to know
that? Was Sally going to make a big deal of it, insist that they lock
me up?
"Um, a little while. I'm not sure exactly how long," I said
vaguely.
"And she was satisfied that you were no longer a danger to
yourself?" Sally persisted. There was disbelief in her voice. It hurt.
She had every right to be incredulous, she was right after all, but it
still hurt.
"Yes," I answered, extremely relieved when my voice didn't
break.
"Really?" Sally was on her feet again. I could see that she
was really getting worked up. I swallowed hard, looking away from her
in shame. The others eyed her warily. "Well you know what? I'm not
satisfied. I wasn't here to see what happened in the ER last night,
but the others told me about it. I talked to the doctor who admitted
you. A desire to die that strong doesn't just disappear!" Her voice
warbled, and she took a moment to get herself under control before
continuing. I couldn't look at her, couldn't look at anybody. It was
suddenly hard to breathe. Why was she doing this to me? "You tried to
kill yourself, Duo! You're not fine! Stop telling everyone you're
fine! It's a lie! You're lying! Don't you all see that?" She turned
her attention to the others. None of them would meet her furious gaze.
"You're all tiptoeing around, walking on eggshells because you don't
want to upset him. Would you rather he end up dead? Because that could
happen next time! And there will be a next time, if he doesn't get
help! And this, this treating him like he's made of glass, this is not
helping him." She swung back around to face me. Involuntarily I shrank
back into the bed. "Do you even have any intention of going to see Dr.
Mitchell tomorrow?" I didn't know what to say, so I remained silent.
"That's what I thought." She paused, her gaze dropping to the floor.
She took several deep breaths before coming to my side and placing her
hand on my arm. I stared at it, the smooth unblemished skin of her
hand contrasting sharply with my own marred skin. My stomach twisted.
"I'm not saying this to hurt you, Duo. Please believe that. I
want to help you. Every person in this room wants to help you. If
you're not happy with Dr. Mitchell, then we'll find someone else.
We'll keep looking, until we find someone that you are happy with. But
you have to make an effort, too. I'm not going to pretend I know what
you're going through, but for heaven's sake, Duo, stop hiding! Do
you really think there's any point to it, after last night?" Her voice
was gentle, but her words cut me to the bone. I knew that if it was up
to Sally, I would be staying in the psych ward. In her own way, she
was telling me 'You're no good on your own. You can't be trusted. You
have to be shut away for your own good.' It hurt, even if it was
probably true. Suddenly I wanted to tell her that she was right, about
everything. That I wasn't fine. I wasn't even close to being fine. I
wanted to tell her everything, and beg her to help make it better. I
wanted to ask them all for their help. I didn't want to hide anymore.
But I couldn't say the words. I couldn't be open and vulnerable to
her, or to anyone. I couldn't stop hiding.
"I'm fine," I said helplessly, because there wasn't anything
else I could say. The words, uttered by me so often over the past few
days, were like my shield, shutting me in and them out. She sighed and
closed her eyes, shaking her head, and I felt incredible shame. I let
her down. I let all of them down. I stole a quick glance around the
room. Every last one of them looked disappointed in me. I wanted to
scream at them 'I can't help it! I'm sorry, but I just can't do
this! Please understand!' But how could I expect them to understand?
A nurse poked her head into the room. "I'm sorry but visiting
hours are over." Giving me one last look, Sally turned and walked out
of the room. The others followed silently, Hilde and Quatre stopping
to give me quick, crushing hugs. And then I was alone.
I spent the rest of the evening trying not to think too much.
Easier said than done. I nervously flicked through the channels on the
TV, never staying on one program for more than ten seconds. I was
restless, agitated. Sally's words kept running through my mind. I
barely even noticed when an orderly brought in a tray of food, eyeing
my scars with barely concealed disgust. He returned a half hour later
and took away the untouched tray. I hadn't even lifted the lid. Food
was the last thing on my mind.
The thing was, I understood that Sally had good intentions.
But I couldn't get past her thinking that I should be locked up. Hell,
the others probably all thought the same thing, they just didn't have
the nerve to say it. I tossed the TV remote aside in disgust and
hugged my knees to my chest. I'd never felt so alone. It felt somehow
like they were betraying me. But... but weren't they right? Wasn't I
a danger to myself?
I looked down at my body. Did it deserve to be protected from
me? I had cut it, beat it, burnt it, poisoned it with alcohol and now
with an overdose of aspirin. The idea was disturbing. I felt mild
panic, my mind swirling with thoughts that just didn't make sense.
Suddenly I couldn't get the idea out of my head that my body and I
were separate. What was going on? Was this even real? Somehow I
couldn't really feel the sheets against my legs, the bed beneath me.
Things were... out of focus. Fuck, why was this happening now?
Sally's voice echoed in my head, jumbling together with my own erratic
thoughts. "You're no good on your own! You can't be trusted! You have
to be shut away for your own good!" she yelled.
"No!" I murmured, wrapping my arms around my head, rocking
back and forth. "This isn't happening, this isn't real. I'm not
crazy!" Fear coiled in my stomach. What if I wasn't real? What if I
wasn't really here? I rubbed furiously at my chest, gratified by the
pain that lanced from my stitches, even as it caused me to grimace. My
body was still here, I was here, I was real....
This was far from the first time that I had felt disconnected
from my body. It usually happened when I had been drinking or cutting,
but this was definitely one of the worst incidents. I wished fervently
for a knife or a razor blade. I needed to feel a blade slicing
through my skin, to see the blood flowing. There was no better proof
that I could still feel, that I was real. And that more than anything
was proof that I belonged in the psych ward, for me to want to be able
to cut here and now, while in the hospital for a suicide attempt. My
grip on sanity had never felt so tenuous.
I curled into a tight ball, completely and thoroughly
exhausted. I had to keep touching my stitches to reassure myself that
I could feel something. It was not long before I fell into an uneasy
sleep.
I think I dreamed for a while. Something vague and disturbing
about being tied down, and choking. When I blinked into wakefulness,
the room was dark, except for the pale moonlight filtering through the
window. I felt disoriented, confused, my thoughts still all jumbled
together. But instinct told me that I was not alone in the room.
"Who's there?" I called out. I nearly jumped out of my skin
when Heero suddenly appeared at my bedside.
"Shhhh!" he hissed. "I'm not supposed to be in here."
While my mind was valiantly trying to process the meaning of
Heero's presence, I almost asked him why he hadn't knocked the night
nurse out or something, if he was so worried about being discovered.
But then I realized that this was hardly an OZ facility, where that
sort of behavior would be appropriate, and even Heero the Perfect
Soldier knew that.
I shook my head, still trying to pull my thoughts together.
"What... what are you doing here?" I asked, taking care to speak
quietly. He didn't answer. The silence stretched on. I began to wonder
if he was really even there. This all felt so unreal. Was I still
dreaming? Hallucinating? Maybe he was there, but I wasn't, and that's
why he wasn't answering me. My earlier panic came rushing back.
"Heero," I whispered urgently, "am... am I real?" He stared at
me for a moment, apparently dumbfounded.
"Of course you're real! What kind of question is that?" he
asked irritably, looking away. I realized suddenly that he didn't know
how to deal with this, how to deal with me. I felt guilty. What had I
been thinking, asking him that anyway? I sat up, rubbing my face
wearily.
"I'm sorry. It was a stupid question. I think I'm still
half-asleep. So what are you doing here? How long have you been here?"
I asked. I looked around the room, trying to ground myself. I flexed
my hands, feeling the muscles move. I was here, this was real, I
wasn't dreaming....
Heero fidgeted. He actually fidgeted. I blinked. "I haven't
been here long. Just a couple of hours. I've been... watching you
sleep," he finally answered. I suddenly remembered my first night at
Quatre's, how I had woken a couple of times and thought I'd seen Heero
sitting in the desk chair, watching me sleep. But it had been so
surreal, I'd assumed I was dreaming. Maybe I was still dreaming. Why
would Heero be watching me sleep? I shook my head, rubbing my temples.
Heero was looking at me with the most peculiar statement on his face.
This had to be a dream or something. I flexed my hands again, but
with growing panic I realized I couldn't feel the muscles moving
anymore, couldn't feel the bones working under the skin. I stared at
them in horror, watching them move, but unable to feel a single thing.
Suddenly it seemed as if the world had dropped out from under me, and
I was floating adrift, discorporate.
"Are you sure I'm real?" I whispered. "I can't feel my body
anymore! I can't feel my hands!" I clenched my dead hands into fists
and pounded them against my thighs. I had to feel something, anything!
Pain lanced up my legs but I didn't care, I just brought my fists down
again and again. Swearing under his breath, Heero grabbed onto my
forearms and shook me roughly until I looked at him. My thighs were
throbbing, but I still couldn't feel my hands, and I was barely
registering the iron-grip Heero had on my arms.
"Stop it!" he growled. "Just what the hell do you think you're
doing?! Snap out of it!" Heero was scared. I was scaring him. I felt
bad. I started to cry. I couldn't stop myself.
"I don't know!" I said through the tears. "I don't know what
I'm doing!"
Heero pulled me into an awkward embrace, and the sobs that had
been threatening all day poured out. I just couldn't hold them back
any more. I sobbed helplessly, my face buried in Heero's shoulder,
because there wasn't anything else I could do. He didn't say anything,
not one word. He just stood there stiffly, his arms wrapped around my
shoulders, and let me soak his shirt with my tears. I clung on to him
like he was a lifeline in a storm and let my agony pour out for what
seemed like an eternity, my wracking sobs shaking us both.
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***
Part 19
I must have cried myself to sleep, because the next thing I
knew there was morning sunlight pouring through the window, and Heero
was gone.
I blinked into wakefulness feeling incredibly exhausted and
disoriented. At first I wasn't sure what had happened Then it all
came rushing back. I sat up quickly, looking around the room, but I
was alone. I wondered briefly if the whole encounter had been a
dream, or some kind of hallucination, but the ache in my thighs where
I had pounded them indicated that it had really happened. I swallowed
hard, mortification overtaking me. I was horrified that Heero had
seen me acting like that. What must he be thinking of me? Was that
why he had left, because he didn't want to see me again?
What the hell had been wrong with me last night anyway? The
panic and fear I had felt were still with me, but were nothing
compared to last night. I had never been that disconnected before, at
least not that I could remember. I rubbed at the ache in my chest.
Before, when those feelings had overtaken me while other people were
around, I had always managed to maintain some semblance of normal
behavior. Or at least what others believed was normal for me. But I
had really lost it last night. I shook my head in disbelief. Had I
really asked Heero if I was real??? How could I have done something
so insane? And then to have started pounding on my legs like that,
right in front of him! I was surprised that he hadn't left in disgust.
I blinked. But he hadn't left. He stopped me from hurting
myself, and then he held me while I cried. He held me. He let me sob
on his shoulder. I suddenly realized that I was trembling. I wrapped
my scarred arms tightly around myself and tried to will the trembling
away. My mind swirled with confusing and conflicting emotions.
Unwillingly, I thought of how… comforting it had been to be in
Heero's arms. Well, maybe comforting wasn't the right word. I had
been consumed by utter and abject pain and misery while in his arms.
But still... it had also felt... right somehow. What did it mean? Did
I want it to mean something? God, what was going on? I rubbed at my
temples. This was so confusing. I couldn't deal with this right now.
I couldn't deal with anything, so how could I deal with something like this?
Another thought occurred to me. Would Heero tell the others
what had happened? They'd think I belonged in a mental hospital for
sure if they found out about it. I scared myself so Lord only knew
how badly it would upset them. What would they think? I was trembling
even more violently. I still couldn't wrap my mind around it, that
someone had seen me that out of it, that out of control. And that
that someone was Heero. It was bad enough that he knew about it. It
would be even worse if the others knew, too. I rubbed furiously at
the tears that pricked at my eyes. Damnit, you'd think I'd have cried
enough the previous night to last a lifetime! But I couldn't help it.
I was consumed by shame. After everything that had happened, I would
have found it hard to believe that it could get worse. But it had.
Someone had seen me at my most pathetic, my most vulnerable. It was
unbearable.
So what did I do now? It was the question I had tried my best
to avoid dwelling on yesterday. I pondered the possibilities. The
others would take me back to Quatre's. They would want me to keep
seeing Dr. Mitchell, or if not her, then some other shrink. They
would do their best to act as normal as possible and try not to upset
me. But every time they looked at me they would know. They would
know terribly personal things about me. That I cut. That my body was
covered with self-inflicted scars. That I was suicidal. That I was
crazy. I didn't think that I could bear their knowing, their looking
at me with poorly concealed pity and confusion. And distaste.
I knew that on some level, all of them, even Quatre, had to be
disgusted by me, by what I'd done. They'd never admit it, maybe not
even to themselves, but how could they not be disgusted? How long
could I go on like that, feeling their eyes on me, feeling
their knowing like it was something crawling under my skin? I had
already had a taste of it, when they'd been here last night. The way
that they had looked at me... or not been able to look at me. I
shuddered.
But what were the other possibilities? I could... I could run
away from them. But run to where? Run to what? Back to L2? Back to
the black hole I had been existing in for the past six months? That
option was just as unbearable. Run somewhere else? The black hole
would follow me, no matter where I went. It seemed that Duo Maxwell
could run and hide all he wanted, but he could never escape the
darkness. I fought back a sob.
And then there was... finishing what I'd started, and doing
it right this time. Pain twisted in my chest. It made the most sense.
There was nothing here for me. Nothing but pain, misery, and shame. I
pushed back thoughts of Heero that rose unbidden in my mind. But I
couldn't push away the pain I'd seen in Hilde's eyes. And as hard as
it was for me to swallow, I knew that the others were shaken by what
I'd done as well. Fuck. It would hurt them if I were to succeed in
killing myself. I pounded my fists against my thighs again, this time
in frustration. Fresh pain flared from the bruises I had inflicted
last night. It just wasn't fair! I shouldn't even care what the
others felt. They'd never been there for me before, during the war,
when I had needed them so badly. They had failed me. So why should I
care that my death might hurt them, something which still seemed
strange in my mind? But I did care. Maybe they had failed me. Maybe
they hadn't been the best of friends. But they were still my friends,
and I didn't want to hurt them, even if they had hurt me.
So what did that leave me? Nothing, there was nothing else.
My choices were to continue living in this pain and misery, made
worse now that the others knew, or kill myself and hurt them in the
process. I was trapped. Every choice was a bad one. I buried my face
in my hands and tried not to scream.
An orderly came in and left a breakfast tray. I eyed the food
with distaste. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd eaten, and
was vaguely aware that my body was hungry, but I had no desire to
eat. The orderly returned a short time later and took away the
untouched tray. I lay back and stared at the wall, my mind reeling
with despair from the utter hopelessness of my situation.
At exactly nine o'clock, when visiting hours started, the
others arrived. My heart lurched when I saw that Heero was with them.
Our eyes locked for a moment, but then he looked away, his face
unreadable. My heart sank, and my eyes burned with unshed tears. He
didn't even want to look at me. He must be disgusted with me, must
think of me as horribly weak. I was so ashamed I wanted to crawl away
and die. But then I guess there wasn't anything really unusual about
that, just that I was feeling it quite acutely at that particular
moment.
Quatre approached the bed, a duffel bag in his hands and a
cheery smile pasted on his face. "Good morning, Duo. How are you
feeling today?" he asked.
It was all I could do not to start sobbing. I was suffocating
in a black cloud of unimaginable despair. I clenched my hands in my
lap, nails digging into skin. Somehow I managed to smile at him.
"I'm fine," I said, feeling like I might be sick all over the
bed, even though my stomach was empty. Quatre just nodded, never
losing his smile, but I could tell he didn't believe me. I stared
down at my hands, remembering how they'd felt last night. I quickly
flexed them, panic flaring for a dizzying, terrifying moment, but
everything was okay. I could feel them. When I looked back up, Heero
was staring at me with the most peculiar statement on his face. This
time it was me who looked away.
"Since you're being released from the hospital today, we
brought you some clothes and some other things you might need,"
Quatre said, laying the duffel back on the bed next to me.
"Great, thanks," I said with as much enthusiasm as I could
muster, which wasn't a whole lot. Of course the prospect of getting
out of the hospital was something to be happy about, but the
uncertainty of what was to come after that was more than a little
intimidating. "Hey, do you think they'd let me shower before I get
dressed? I'm feeling kind of funky," I said, twisting my mouth into a
goofy grin.
"I don't see why not, I'll go ask the nurse," Quatre
volunteered. He turned and left the room. I saw him squeeze Trowa's
hand on the way out. For some reason it made my heart twist, and I
was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of loneliness. I
glanced at Heero. He was still staring at me, and I couldn't hold
that intense gaze, so I quickly looked away.
Sally came to stand beside the bed. "Duo, I want to talk to
you about Dr. Mitchell..." she began.
Before I could stop myself, I gripped my head in my hands and
shut my eyes tight. "No! I don't want to talk about it!" I snapped.
Silence reigned in the room, and I was horrified by how crazy I must
look. With great effort I forced my muscles to relax and I lowered my
arms. I looked up at Sally. She was looking at me with a mixture of
concern, frustration, and sympathy. I hated it. "I… I just don't
want to talk about it right now. Just let me get cleaned up and stuff
first, okay?" I offered a weak smile. Sally pressed her lips into a
thin line. She wasn't happy. But she gave a curt nod.
Quatre returned. "The nurse said it was fine. The doctor
won't finish rounds until ten, so you have to wait before you can be
released anyway. She said that there were towels and anything else
you'd need already in the bathroom."
"Great," I replied. I slid off the bed, feeling self-
conscious in the flimsy hospital gown in front of so many people. As
my feet hit the floor, a wave of dizziness washed over me and for a
terrible moment I thought my legs were going to buckle out from
underneath me. Thankfully I managed to stay upright, even if I had
swayed alarmingly. Perhaps I should have eaten some of that breakfast.
Sally gripped my arm, her face creased with concern. "Are you
okay? Maybe you shouldn't be standing up," she said.
I clenched my jaw at her words. How humiliating. I fought to
keep my face from flushing too badly. "I'm fine, just stood up too
fast," I assured her with a false smile.
She looked unconvinced. "Okay... but don't lock the bathroom
door. We'll need to get in there in a hurry if you faint in the
shower or something."
Or something. I suppressed a grimace, instead giving her
another vapid smile. I nodded and went into the bathroom as quickly
as my still-shaky legs could take me, bringing the duffel bag along.
I quickly closed the door, obediently leaving it unlocked, and then
leaned against it, grateful to be alone. I fought back the tears that
threatened to come forth.
I forced myself to step back from the door and turned to look
in the mirror. God. I looked like crap. I was paler than ever, with
darkened circles under my eyes. I brought my hand up to gingerly
touch my face, and in the mirror I saw the scabs that remained from
my most recent cuts on my arm. I quickly turned away from the mirror,
suddenly disgusted by my reflection.
I stripped off the hospital gown and my underwear. I
attempted to brush out my hair as well as I could, though it was
terribly knotted and tangled. I gingerly removed the bandage that
covered the stitches on my chest and avoided looking directly at the
words underneath. I stepped into the tiny cubicle shower and found a
wrapped bar of soap and small bottles of generic shampoo and
conditioner. The hot water felt heavenly. For a long time I simply
stood there, letting it wash over me, wishing it could wash
everything away. I realized that tears were streaming down my face,
and I shook myself out of my stupor and started running my hands
through my hair, making sure it was wet all the way through.
As I worked the cheap shampoo into a lather in my hair, I
thought of when Heero had washed my hair. The ever-present ache in my
chest intensified. I tried to push all thoughts of Heero away.
Rinsing the shampoo out, my friends' voices echoed in my head. `How
are you feeling today?' Quatre had asked. `Are you okay?' Sally had
asked. My chest tightened, and I worked the conditioner into my hair
furiously. There had been times when I would have given anything to
have my friends ask me those questions, and mean it as more than a
greeting. Even then I probably wouldn't have been able to tell them
the truth, but they still could have asked.
The conditioner rinsed from my hair, I started to scrub away
with the soap and a washcloth. I barely registered that I was
scrubbing too hard at my scabs, tearing some away, causing fresh
blood to run. I merely clenched my teeth at the pain. Those
questions. Those damned questions. I hated them. It was
impossible not to lie in response, the glib `I'm fine' an automatic
response, no matter how I was really feeling. The answer was always
accepted without question. How many people really ask that question
expecting an honest, detailed answer anyway? But even if I had wanted
to answer honestly, and there were a few times when I had tried, the
words would not come. Duo Maxwell, speechless. I scrubbed harder.
Droplets of vivid red diluted to pink in the water swirling around my
feet before being washed down the drain. The pain in my chest was
unbearable.
And even if I had been able to make the words come, they
would have been unintelligible anyway. The very act of saying them
would have reduced me to a sobbing mess.
My legs wouldn't support me. I found myself curled into a
ball on the floor of the cubicle, water beating down around me as I
was consumed by wracking sobs for the second time in less than twenty-
four hours. I buried my face in the washcloth, praying that the
others couldn't hear me over the roar of the shower.
Christ! What the hell was wrong with me? I had to pull myself
together! Any minute the others would be in here, wanting to know
what was taking so long. I scrubbed at my face with the cloth,
willing the tears to stop. Finally, they did, and I reached out an
unsteady hand to turn off the water. I climbed shakily to my feet and
stepped out of the shower. For the first time it really registered
what I had done to my arms. Fuck! What would the others think if they
saw it? I grabbed some toilet paper and started to wipe up the blood
still beading out of the reopened wounds. Thankfully, the damage
didn't seem too bad. The bleeding would probably stop on its own
pretty quickly. I sighed. God, I was such a fuck-up.
Realizing that I'd been in here for quite awhile already, I
hurriedly finished up. I wrung out my hair and wrapped it in a towel.
I dried myself off, mindful of getting any drops of blood on the
white towel. I opened the duffel bag and pulled out my clothes. They
were the same ones I'd worn a couple of days ago, freshly washed. I
really needed to get some more clothes if I was going to be hanging
around here for the foreseeable future. Which, I guessed with a
sinking heart, I probably was. I didn't have anything to re-bandage
my chest, so I just threw my shirt on over the bare stitches. The
reopened cuts had pretty much stopped bleeding, and any blood that
stained my shirt wouldn't be visible on the black fabric anyway.
There was a knock on the door. "Duo, are you okay in there?"
Hilde's voice called. I clenched my teeth at the question, but
quickly shook it off and pasted a grin on my face. I opened the door.
"I'm fine," I lied. "It just takes awhile to wash all this
hair, you know? Hey, do you want to help me dry it?" I was surprised
by how cheerful I managed to sound.
She brightened. "Sure," she said. She helped me comb out the
damp mess, then she tackled it with the hairdryer that the bathroom
was thankfully equipped with. I even managed to chatter incessantly,
earning a few chuckles from her in the process. It was unbelievable.
Not five minutes ago I had been sobbing uncontrollably, now here I
was acting like nothing had happened. It seemed that the mask was
always close at hand. Finally, my hair was dry and tamed into a
braid. We rejoined the others and waited for the doctor to come and
release me.
It was awkward to say the least. Hilde and Quatre tried to
draw the others into chitchat, but got little response. I sat on the
bed and tried not to appear too anxious. My arms stung. I looked
around at the others, wondering if Heero had told them about last
night. Somehow, I didn't think so. I looked over at Heero, who was
standing silently at the window, staring out. What must he be
thinking of me? I looked around at the others again. What must they
all be thinking of me? The things that had happened over the past
couple of days.... How did they feel about all of it? Part of me was
surprised that they were even here after all that had happened. Why
did they care? No one had really seemed to before. Why now? I shook
my head. I couldn't even really wrap my mind around it, that they
were here, that I was here, in a hospital room, waiting to be
released after my suicide attempt. The words still twisted my stomach.
Finally, a doctor and nurse arrived to clear me for release.
I had never seen him before. That made him, what, the third doctor to
see me in this hospital? Not exactly what I would call personal care.
But I didn't think I should complain. It could have been a lot worse.
They could have said I couldn't leave.
Even having already been told that I would be released, I
waited with baited breath while the doctor looked me over. The nurse
cleared the room of my friends. She put a fresh bandage over my
stitches. The doctor checked my blood pressure and listened to my
breathing. They were both very impersonal and efficient, not giving
any kind of reaction to my scars, or to the fact that the reason I
was in the hospital was because of a suicide attempt. It didn't
change the fact that I couldn't look either one of them in the eye,
though.
The doctor seemed satisfied and signed my release forms. I
breathed a sigh of relief. I was really free to go. I would have to
be careful. I might not be so lucky a second time. I shuddered.
I met up with the others in the reception area and signed all
the necessary papers. Quatre had to sign some forms, too, since he
was footing the bill for the private room. We filed out to the
parking lot. I don't think I was ever so happy to be outside, but the
sight of Quatre's limo quickly quelled my enthusiasm. The thought of
going back to Quatre's house was incredibly depressing. Sitting
around, feeling unbearably awkward. The prospect of having `serious
discussions', and my appointment with Dr. Mitchell that afternoon,
which I'm sure Sally had no intention of letting me miss. Then I had
an idea.
"Hey, do you guys want to go shopping?" I asked. They all
looked at me like I had ten heads. I actually think I started to
blush. Okay, so maybe it was an odd thing to suggest under the
circumstances. "Seriously. I'm going to need to pick up some more
clothes. I can't keep wearing the same thing everyday. You guys
brought my wallet in the duffel back, so I have my cash card. Why
not? Who knows, it could be fun." Okay, I'm going to have to watch
the nervous rambling.
Hilde shrugged. "Sure. I'm always up for a trip to the mall.
And you're right, we could all use some fun and relaxation."
"You think a trip to a shopping mall would be relaxing?"
Wufei asked incredulously. I laughed. It was a good feeling. It felt
almost like before, when I had played the dutiful clown and no one
had suspected otherwise. And I could almost feel the tension level in
the air falling. Maybe this could really work.
Quatre chuckled. "Sounds like a good idea, Duo. Shopping
would be fun." He instructed the driver to take us to the nearest
shopping mall. Sally and Heero both looked quite displeased, but were
keeping their mouths shut about it, at least for the time being, so I
decided to ignore them.
I sat back in my seat, relieved. I engaged in idle chatter
about shopping with Hilde and Quatre on auto-pilot. In all honesty, I
was quite proud of myself. Not only had I provided a good distraction
for the others from the... situation, but I could also pick up
something else that I needed while at the mall. Something much more
important than new clothes.
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***
Part 20
During the whole trip to the mall, I remained on autopilot, chatting
with Hilde and Quatre. The others remained silent, consumed by their
own thoughts. Even as I rambled on in idle chatter, part of me sat
back and examined the situation. This was all so insane! How was it
that I was sitting here, pretending everything was normal, when I had
just been released from the hospital for my suicide attempt? My
suicide attempt! I still could hardly believe it. Not even a week ago, I wouldn’t have been able to imagine being around people who knew my darkest secrets, that I cut, that I was so consumed by pain that I was suicidal. But now here I was. Here we all were. And they knew.
I fiddled nervously with the hem of my sleeve while listening
to Hilde talk about her college courses. I marveled that she was here,
having not gone running and screaming when she’d found out how screwed
up I was. None of them had. It just didn’t make sense to me. I had
expected disgust, condemnation, and worst of all, rejection. I had
expected them to reject me, to want nothing more to do with me. It
just didn’t make sense! I reasoned that even after all that had
happened, I still hadn’t talked to any of them about how I felt. I had every intention of avoiding that if possible. Their knowing
was terrible enough, I didn’t think I could handle opening my soul to
them. They couldn’t possibly understand how I felt. I surreptitiously
looked around the limo, my eyes resting on each of them in turn for a
few moments. No, they wouldn’t understand. How could they? How could
anyone truly understand if they hadn’t been there themselves? That was
probably why the rejection hadn’t come yet. They still had no
understanding of just how fucked up I was. They... they thought I was
just sick or something, that they could help me and I would get
better. But I had a horrible, sneaking suspicion that I wasn’t just
sick. There was something seriously wrong with me. I imperceptibly slouched a little lower in my seat. There wasn’t anything they could do for me. Nor would they want to help, if they knew
everything. It is a horrible, horrible feeling, to be surrounded by people yet feel utterly alone. I cannot exaggerate the sense of
isolation that I felt.
We finally arrived at a huge mall. I already had a plan in mind. We hit
a few fancy boutiques, and I agreed to let Quatre buy me a few pairs of black pants and shirts. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford them
myself, but he insisted. It took great effort to maintain a casual
attitude, acting like there was absolutely nothing unusual going on,
but I think I pulled it off admirably. The others seemed eager to
embrace a sense of normalcy as well. Who could blame them? Finally, we
found ourselves in a huge discount department store, one of the type
that sold a little of everything. I perked up a little for real. I
knew I’d be able to find what I needed here. Now, if only I could slip
away for just a moment....
We wandered around aimlessly for what seemed like an eternity. I
started to get fidgety. Man, they were stuck to me like glue! How the
hell was I supposed to get what I needed?
Suddenly there was a loud crash and a child started to wail. Everyone
turned to look in that direction. I didn’t miss
a beat. I was gone the second their attention was elsewhere. Luckily
we weren’t too far from the right section of the store. I rushed down
the aisles, weaving around people, my heart hammering in my chest. I
wouldn’t even let myself ponder the consequences if one of them should
catch me doing this....
I skidded to a stop. I was in the right aisle. I quickly scanned the
display, and in the blink of an eye, one of the packages of razor
blades was gone from the shelf, tucked safely away in my shirt. It
seemed that my skill as a thief hadn’t faded with time. I felt
profound relief, but I didn’t let myself dwell on it. I couldn’t let
the others find me standing in front of a wall of razors and razor
blades. When they did finally show up, Hilde’s face frantic, they
found me innocently perusing shampoo several aisles away.
“Where have you been?” Hilde exclaimed, throwing her arms around me. I
played dumb, widening my eyes in surprise.
“What do you mean? I just need to get some shampoo and conditioner,” I
explained innocently. She stared at me in exasperation.
“Some kid knocked over a display and started to cry. When I turned back
around you were gone!” she said.
“So? I’m right here! No big deal, right?” I smiled brightly. She shook
her head, but she was smiling too. Heero was glaring at me, but I was
pretty certain it was out of irritation, not suspicion. I let myself
relax a little more.
“I think we should head back to the house,” Sally said, giving her
watch a weary glance. I looked at my own and barely suppressed a
groan. It was almost 1:00. Surely my 2:00 appointment with Dr.
Mitchell was on Sally’s mind.
“Yes, let’s,” Wufei sighed irritably. I had to grin at that. Apparently
a couple of hours running around a shopping mall was more than he
could bear. Though the idea of returning to Quatre’s, and the prospect
of everyone wanting to “talk”, made me shudder, I nodded eagerly. I
figured the best strategy was to act as normal as possible, and not
like I was purposely avoiding anything. Right.
“Sure! Let’s go back to the house. It looks like Wufei, at least, has
had enough shopping. I’m sure he has to go practice his katas for a
few hours until he feels ‘manly’ again,” I teased with a grin. Wufei
fumed and opened his mouth to say something. But then the strangest
thing happened. He snapped his mouth shut without uttering a sound,
and then turned away, his face flushing. Flushing! I stared at him,
dumbfounded. And then realization struck. Normally, Wufei would have
responded to my teasing by telling me to go jump off a cliff or
something. Perhaps now he thought I really might. I suddenly felt sick
to my stomach.
Hilde was tapping my arm. “Don’t you need shampoo and conditioner,
Duo?” she asked.
“Oh. Right,” I answered. I picked my usual brands off the shelf, and we
went to the front of the store so I could pay for them. I suddenly
thought of the razor blades again when we passed through the security
panels at the front of the store, but no alarm sounded. I was
scott-free. But somehow I didn’t feel as relieved as I thought I would.
The limo ride back to the house was decidedly more subdued than the
ride to the mall. I was unable to summon up much cheerfulness. Wufei’s
reaction was really getting to me. It was happening. They were
treating me differently, thinking of me differently. Things would
never be the same as they’d been before. How could they be? A small
voice in the back of my mind wondered why that was such a bad thing.
It’s not like things had been great before. I had been miserable! And
my friends hadn’t cared enough to notice. But... but there had been...
security in their not noticing, their not knowing. And now I wasn’t
safe anymore. I slumped, feeling the comforting weight of the package
of razor blades hidden in my shirt.
Back at the house, I brought my new clothes up to my room. It was
unreal, stepping into that room. It was exactly as I had left it. My
backpack on the floor in the corner, the bed unmade. Even those damned
pamphlets were still strewn about on the floor. I put the clothes
away. Before shutting the dresser drawer, I took the package of razor
blades from it’s hiding place inside my shirt. I stared at it. It was
innocuous enough. A black blister pack containing a small white case,
in which rested ten individually wrapped razor blades. Ten
double-edged, deliciously sharp razor blades. I suddenly became aware
that my hand was shaking. I quickly hid the package in the drawer and
slammed it shut. Then I slammed my fist down on the dresser, feeling
satisfaction when pain shot up through my wrist.
Damn, why had I stolen those razor blades? I couldn’t seriously be
planning on... on cutting again anytime soon, here, with everyone
knowing, could I? Was I that fucked up? I swallowed hard. It was... it
was true. I hated the way I was feeling, the way I was reacting to
what happened with Wufei. And... I wanted to cut. I wanted to cut so
badly. I pounded my fist again, my body trembling with the disgust I
felt at my weakness. But I had stolen the blades before that. I had
just wanted to have them. It was... comforting, somehow, knowing
that they were here should I need them, even if I had every intention
of resisting the urge to cut. I felt a surge or resentment. Why should
I resist it? For fear of the others finding out? In many ways, they
were the cause of the pain I was feeling in the first place, and now
they were the reason I couldn’t find relief. I tried to summon anger
at Wufei over this most recent incident, but was unsuccessful. It was
my fault, after all, that he would now find it awkward to yell at me.
That he, and all the others, would now find it necessary to tread on
eggshells around me. My chest ached so much. How was it that I found
myself in this situation?
I was broken from my reverie by a sharp knock at the door. Before I
even had a chance to respond, Sally opened the door. I felt a stab of
unease.
“Duo, come down to the living room. We have to talk, and there’s no
postponing it this time,” she announced firmly, then turned and walked
away, leaving the door open for me to follow.
I sighed. What else was there for me to do? This was inevitable. They
wanted to “talk”. Sally, undoubtedly, wanted me to go to my
appointment with Dr. Mitchell. I swallowed hard. I felt incredibly
strange, almost... discorporated or something. I stared longingly at
the dresser drawer I had just shut. It was no mystery to me at that
moment why I had stolen the blades. I needed them. Even if, in my
head, I was vowing that I wouldn’t cut anymore, not in this house,
with everyone around, my heart knew otherwise. I pressed my lips
firmly together, imagining the sensation of drawing a blade through my
softly yielding skin. I needed it so much. But... the others were
waiting. Down in the living room. I knew it would be the confrontation
I dreaded. But what could I do? I sighed again. I couldn’t exactly run
and hide in this situation. I had to go down there. My heart heavy, I
headed downstairs.
When I entered the living room, it was exactly as I feared. Everyone
was there. I suddenly wished that the world would open up and swallow
me. I wanted to be anywhere but in that room. Gingerly, I sat in one
of the empty armchairs. The joviality of the shopping trip was
completely gone, everyone’s faces grim. Sally cleared her throat, and
all gazes turned in her direction.
“Duo, your appointment is in half an hour. Are you going?” she asked.
I looked up in surprise. It was up to me? Did that mean that she
wouldn’t make me go?
“I... would rather not,” I replied cautiously.
Sally pressed her lips into a thin line. “Can you tell me why?” she
asked after a few moments.
I sighed. Why didn’t I want to go see Dr. Mitchell? She was nice
enough, but... but I knew she couldn’t help me. I didn’t know why I
knew that. I just did.
“I... I just don’t want to,” I said lamely. Sally looked at me with an
exasperated expression on her face.
“You don’t want to? Duo, something has to be done here. You tried to
kill yourself,” she said. I winced. “You need treatment. How do you
expect to get better if you don’t try?”
I wanted to scream. “If I don’t try?” God, what was I doing? Every day
was a struggle. Every day for months and months. Years, even. What did
she expect from me? I didn’t know what to say to her. Luckily someone
else spoke up.
“Well, what’s the point of making him see a therapist he doesn’t want
to see?” Hilde asked.
“He has to see someone,” Sally persisted. “He’s sick. He needs help.
The... the self-injury has to stop. And he’s suicidal. We need the
involvement of a professional!” I wanted to crawl away and die.
“A professional? Can’t we help him to stop... to stop hurting himself?”
Quatre spoke up. I wanted to disappear. I couldn’t imagine a worse
possible situation.
“We need a professional,” Sally reiterated firmly. “This is a serious
problem. Good intentions aren’t good enough. If he’s going to stop
doing this to himself he needs help.”
“But we’re his friends. Can’t we help him to stop?” Hilde asked. I
wished I was as invisible as I felt.
“No. We need an impartial professional. We need to get him to stop
doing this. It’s obviously very destructive. A therapist will know how
to handle it. Self-injury is... complicated. He needs help! More help
than we can give him. This has to stop! You... you only got a glimpse
of his scars. I saw them, all... all over his arms and legs... it has
to stop!” Sally said. My face burned.
“But we’re his friends! We just have to show him we love him. Why would
he keep hurting himself after that? He doesn’t need a ‘professional’
to get him to stop, he just needs us,” Quatre said. I closed my eyes.
“It’s not as simple as that! All of you should look into this subject
more deeply. Getting him to stop should be our top priority. He’s
hurting himself! Do you understand that? He has to stop doing this,
now! That’s why we need a professional. Someone who understands the
problem and can help him to stop,” Sally said firmly. I wanted to
scream. It was all too much. I couldn’t take them talking about me as
if I wasn’t there, as if I wasn’t a real person. I was going to explode.
“But I don’t want to stop!” I screamed.
Shocked silence reigned. Even I was shocked. I swallowed hard. It was
true. It really was. I hated cutting. I hated how it made me feel,
what it did to me. The helplessness it made me feel, the shame. I
hated the scars that marred my skin. But at the same time, I loved
cutting. I loved the way it made me feel, what it did to me. The
control it made me feel, the relief. I loved the scars that marred my
skin. They were mine. They were the tangible proof of the pain I was
feeling. I didn’t want to stop. Then I would have nothing, no control,
no relief from the pain. I would be consumed. I stood and fled from
the room.
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***
Part 21
I ran up to my room, and slammed the door behind me. My heart was
hammering alarmingly in my chest. Oh God, oh God, had I really just
said that? In front of everyone? I shut my eyes tightly, grimacing. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. I waited to hear the sounds of pursuit, positive that one or more of them would come after me, demanding to 'talk'. Seconds stretched into minutes and no one came. Perhaps they were wisely allowing me some time to 'calm down'.
I stumbled forward into the room on shaky legs. I needed
something. My eyes settled on the audio player on the desk. I went
over to it and turned on some music, loud and angry music. Music that
screamed, because I couldn’t scream.
God, God, God, what had just happened? Thoughts swirled crazily in my
head, lost in the pounding, driving music. I was in pain. But it
wasn't physical pain. No, nothing so tangible as that. It was a
horrible, soul-deep pain. My eyes went to the dresser. I wasn't even
aware of making a decision. I just found myself standing there, pawing
through the contents of a drawer until I found what I was looking for.
I held up the blisterpack with a trembling hand. I needed to feel
the bite of a razor blade in my skin. I fumbled with the package,
trying to rip the plastic from the cardboard, and suddenly it burst
open all over the floor.
I sat down hard, surrounded by small, white, rectangles of paper. I was
shaking. I hated myself. Why was I so weak? How could this have
happened? Why did this hurt so much? I could barely breathe. I was
choking, choking on my own misery. I picked up one of the
paper-enfolded razor blades. Why couldn't I just sink the blade into a
vein and end everything? I grimaced, dropping the blade and burying my
face in my hands.
I felt it so profoundly. The desire to die, to be away from this
misery, this pain. I clenched my eyes shut, rocking in time to the
hard beat of the music. I was consumed. I was dying, expiring, choking
on something intangible and in-concrete. I was choking on pain.
There was a sudden knock on the door. I cursed. It had seemed too good
to be true that no one would pursue me after that outburst. That
painful, entirely honest outburst. Shuddering, I cried out at the
intruder.
"Go away!" Sharp, maybe a little panicked. I hated myself.
"Duo?" It was Quatre. Fuck.
"Go AWAY!" I reiterated, starting to gather up the little white
rectangles in a panic, afraid he might barge into the room. I couldn't
remember whether or not I’d locked the door.
"Duo, I'm not here to... to bother you. I think we all need some time
to breathe. But... if you do need anything, please don’t hesitate to
ask," Quatre said, his voice soft even as he spoke loudly enough to be
heard through the door. There was a drawn out moment of silence and I
could picture Quatre hovering anxiously outside the door. "Sally said
she would cancel your appointment for today," he finally continued.
"Dinner is at six. We all hope to see you there." Another pause. "We
do care about you, Duo." That so softly I barely heard it. And then I
could hear him moving away down the hall.
I let the blades fall back to the floor. My fists clenched. I was
filled with such overwhelming shame. I was... I was a nuisance.
Christ, why hadn't they thrown me out of the house and gone on with
their lives? What was I to them, really? They were probably only doing
this out of some sense of obligation. I brought my knees up to my
chest, wrapping my arms around my head. I clenched my eyes shut,
wanting to shut the whole world out. I realized I was rocking back and
forth. I wanted to scream, scream, scream.... My fingers were digging
into my scalp. It hurt to breathe. It hurt so fucking much, just to
draw breath.
I’m not sure how long I sat curled up on the floor like that. Long
enough for the CD to finish and begin replaying. The world was fuzzy
around the edges. I just needed to focus, to clear my head so I could
think. I lifted my head and looked at the razor blades scattered on
the floor around me with dull eyes. I reached out and picked one up
with numb fingers. I climbed unsteadily to my feet. In a fog, I made
my way into the bathroom. Made sure to lock the door, and the door
adjoining to Heero’s room, though I doubted he was in there. They were
probably all downstairs, 'discussing' me. My lips tightened.
Finally I turned to look at myself in the mirror. Remembered the last
time I had stood in that spot, staring at that reflection. The
stranger, swallowing pill after pill. The stranger carving words into
his chest. I clenched my eyes shut and turned away, feeling sick.
I looked at the blade in my hand. Ever so carefully, I un-wrapped the
paper, bringing the blade up for closer inspection. It was deliciously
sharp, the bathroom light glinting off the edge hypnotically. I
swallowed. Something in the back of my mind was wailing, berating me
for even contemplating this. What if the others found out? They’d lock
me up for sure. So I just had to make sure they didn't find out.
I wanted to cut my arms. For some reason I couldn't even begin to
fathom, there was no place so completely satisfying to cut as the
lower arms. Perhaps it had something to do with the accessibility of
the area. How easy it was to just take the blade in one hand, turn the
other arm over, and sink the metal into soft flesh. Especially
satisfying near the wrists, or even, if you're feeling daring, on the
delicate, fragile skin of the wrist itself. There’s some kind of
twisted, sick magic to thinking to yourself, 'I mutilated my wrists'.
You also don't have to go very deep to get a lot of blood. You can
slit your wrists without it being a suicide attempt. I should know.
I've done it many times. Luckily, I had a wide wristwatch, and another
wide wrist-band I'd worn on the other arm to hide bandages when necessary.
But I couldn't cut my wrists now, or my arms. The wrists and lower arms
were also the hardest to hide. No, the best place now would be
someplace easy to hide, like my thighs.
My heart heavy in my chest, I lowered my pants down around my knees and
sat on the closed lid of the toilet. I pulled up the leg of my boxers,
exposing an expanse of pale thigh. Already I could feel the... the
relief flowing through my body. This was right. This would make it
right. But at the same time, some part of me was cringing.
I picked a spot. High up and to the side. Fairly un-lined from previous
cutting, at least from recent cutting. There were still scabs over
much of my thighs from my two-week binge. Almost in a trance, I placed
the blade against my skin. This was it. My last chance to change my
mind. I grit my teeth and clenched my eyes. Then I sunk the blade into
my flesh.
It hurt. Good. I began to draw the blade through my skin with steady
pressure, cutting fairly deep. I kept my eyes closed, concentrating
only on the pain, on the feeling of skin being cruelly parted. Clarity
was washing through me, clearing the fog from my mind. I lifted the
blade and looked at the cut. About two inches, ruby-red blood already
beading up. I smeared it with my fingers, lifted my hand to taste the
salty tang on my tongue. Pressed the blade down again, drew another
line, parallel to the first. I exhaled a long breath, the release of
tension palpable. This was real, this was concrete, this was pain I
could deal with, that I could understand. Not the horrible,
all-consuming, indescribable agony that usually gripped me. I added
a third line, even deeper than the others, and I had to suppress a
sob, though I didn't think it was from the physical pain. I think some
last remaining rational part of my mind was horrified at what I was doing.
I sat back and stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, taking deep
breaths. My thigh felt inflamed. I concentrated on the stinging,
radiating pain. Finally, I looked back down.
Realization hit me like a shockwave.
Oh shit, what had I done? What had I fucking done? My hands were
shaking. The blade slipped from my fingers. I rubbed my face
frantically. How could I be so stupid? How could I cut now? Fuck,
I'd been released from the hospital following a suicide attempt mere
hours ago, and here I was, cutting up my leg! God, the relief I'd
felt had been so fleeting. Despair was welling up in me stronger than
ever.
I was on my feet. My eyes darted restlessly around the room. God, God,
God, God! My breath was coming in short gasps. I caught sight of my
reflection in the mirror. My hands clenched into fists at my side. My
face was drawn, pale, pinched. My eyes were wide, crazy-looking. There
was a streak of blood down the left side of my face. It must have come
from my hand when I rubbed my face. I looked like a fucking psycho.
I wanted to do violence. I wanted to smash the mirror. I wanted to rip
down the shower curtain, to break everything in sight, to rip apart
this prim and proper and elegant bathroom. But I couldn't do that.
That would attract attention. That would garner me more of those
looks, and worse. So I did the only thing I could do. I turned the
violence on myself.
I sat down hard, yanked up my left sleeve, and started to pound on
the back of my arm with my fist. I hit it again and again and again,
as my teeth clenched and my eyes began to water. When I didn't think I
could stand the pain any longer I turned my arm over and started anew.
Finally, my strength gave out. I leaned back against the wall, my
breath coming in long, deep gasps, and just felt. Felt the aching,
burning pain in my arm. The sharp, stinging pain in my thigh. The
pounding in my temples, the ache in my heart. It was all I could do
not to start sobbing.
Despite my best efforts, there were a few tears leaking from my eyes. I
was consumed by complete and utter hopelessness. The despair I felt
was indescribable. I looked down. My boxer leg had slipped back down,
and red now stained the white fabric. The skin on my arm was an angry
shade of red, and already looked to be swelling. I had broken open a
few of the scabs on my cuts. Again. They were going to scar badly. As
if it mattered. I was covered in scars. My breath caught in my chest,
and again I wanted to scream. I was covered in scars. There were times
when the full significance of that fact really hit home.
For the rest of my life, however long or short that may be, I would
forever be a person with self-inflicted scars on their body. Anyone I
would ever come into contact with would look at me in an entirely
different way if they knew, would treat me differently, would act
differently around me. They would think certain things about me, make
certain assumptions. At worst, they would call me a freak to my face.
At best, they would be like my friends, and look at me that way. I
shuddered, drawing my legs up to my chest and wrapping my arms around
them, finding comfort in the resulting pain in my arm and thigh. The
scars on my skin changed everything. I was a freak. How could I ever
live like this? Why would anyone ever want to put up with me, to deal
with me, to cope with all my craziness? I lost the battle and buried
my face in my knees as I sobbed.
I hated myself. I hated myself so much. I couldn't believe how fucked
up I was. What kind of a person does these things? People would be
right to consider me a freak. I fought to stop crying. I knew that if
I let myself, I could sob for hours. The tremors finally subsided.
Dimly, I wondered about the time. A glance at my watch told me that it
was nearing six. I was amazed. Had so much time really passed since
the disastrous 'discussion'? I suddenly remembered Quatre saying that
dinner was at six. Would someone come up here, trying to get me to
join them? I was quite sure that I didn’t want to see any of them
right now.
I had to get out of here. These walls were suffocating me. I just
needed to get away for a while. I could just slip out, without any of
them knowing. Right then it seemed like a wonderful idea. Purpose in
mind, I climbed to my feet, wincing at the pain in my leg and arm. Two
very different kinds of pain, the one sharp, the other dull and aching.
I cleaned the dried blood off my thigh with some toilet paper, and then
flushed it. I pulled up my pants and returned to my room. A quick
glance out the window confirmed the presence of a trellis, easily
traversed as an escape route. But where would I go? I pondered the
question briefly, the obvious answer quickly coming to mind. It was
just what I needed.
I quickly changed into some of the new clothes I'd gotten that day,
tight-fitting black pants and a loose, button-up black shirt in a
satiny fabric. I returned to the bathroom and managed to wash my face
and neatly re-braid my hair without really looking in the mirror. I
grabbed my cash card from my wallet and stuffed it into a pocket. My
thigh burned, my arm ached. Taking one last look around the room, my
resolve firm, I opened the window and climbed out onto the trellis. I
gingerly climbed my way down. In mere moments I had slipped away from
the estate and was making my way towards the downtown core.
I had completely forgotten about the razor blade lying abandoned on the
bathroom floor.
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***
Part 22
The early evening air was heavy. The temperature controls on L4 were kept higher than my usual comfort level. I wasn’t terribly familiar with the layout of the colony, but it was simple enough to find my way downtown.
My thigh burned as I walked. My pants felt slightly damp and sticky as the still-beading blood soaked into the material. It didn’t matter. The stain wouldn’t show on the black fabric. My arm was throbbing hotly. I rubbed my hand over it and felt the tender raised swelling. By morning it would be a dark bruise.
God, how had this happened? Why was this happening? Why was I such a fuck-up? I swayed on my feet, and had to grab onto a storefront window to keep from falling down. I resisted the urge to press my forehead against the glass until the wave of dizziness passed. Perhaps eating something would not be a bad idea. I tried to remember the last time I had done so and came up blank.
I spotted a small café across the street and headed for it. All I ordered was some tea and a bowl of soup. I had no appetite, and I didn’t think my stomach could manage much anyway. I sat on the small café verandah and watched the colony lights darken into evening as I mechanically ate my food. I wondered if the others had noticed I was gone yet. Would they even care? Maybe they’d be glad to get rid of me. Maybe they would hope that I didn’t return. A small voice in the back of my head told me I was being foolish, thinking such things, but the thoughts came all the same. They hurt all the same.
I decided I had been sitting there long enough. It was time to resume my original search. The food in my stomach had cleared a bit of my light-headedness, but I knew something that would make me feel even better, if only for awhile.
It didn’t take me long to find it. Even a high-class colony like this L4 satellite had its seedier areas, catering to the blue-collar workers who kept the colony running. And that’s where I found the club. Loud music poured out into the street. A fair number of people milled about outside, even at this relatively early hour. They were probably what passed for ‘shady-looking’ on L4. This place would suit my purposes just fine.
A small group of men hanging around outside the door called out to me in drunken voices as I passed by, but I ignored them and went inside. By L4 standards, this place was probably considered a dive, though on L2 it would have been one of the nicer clubs. The interior was dark, the only light sources being the neon beer signs over the bar and the coloured strobe lights pulsating over the dance floor. The ceiling was low, with bare rafters. Besides the bar, which stretched the length of one wall, and the dance floor, which took up a good two thirds of the space, there were a couple of pool tables. The air was heavy with the musk of beer, sweat, and smoke. The music was loud. Very loud. Some kind of techno-industrial. I liked it. It was perfect.
I made my way to the bar, taking a seat on one of the rickety stools. I ordered a drink. The bartender eyed me incredulously for a moment, but I met his gaze evenly and he poured the drink. Though there was technically a legal drinking age in the colonies, most places didn’t really care, as long as you had money. Perhaps it was a part of the contempt for authority that came naturally to so many colony citizens, as a result of living for so many years under oppression.
I spent several hours without moving from that barstool, throwing back drink after drink, becoming pleasantly numb. The music overwhelmed me, drowning out the pain in my brain. Nothing mattered anymore, just the hard bite of the vodka and the driving beat of the music. Finally I gave into temptation and joined the thronging mass on the dance floor.
It felt wonderful to lose myself, to let everything slip away. The fog of alcohol in my brain made everything okay. The loud, angry music filled my mind, filled my soul. I was just one more person lost in its grip as I moved on the dance floor. The throbbing lights were hypnotizing. This was wonderful. This was peace. Frequent trips to the bar kept my mind wonderfully numb.
Hours later, exhaustion and the vast quantities of alcohol I had consumed began to win out. I was stumbling more than dancing, and the room had begun to spin and tilt alarmingly. I headed back to the bar and collapsed onto a barstool, gesturing for another drink. When it arrived, I reached for my cash card to pay for it, but a hand on my arm stopped me. I looked up at its owner with bleary eyes.
"Here, let me get that for you," the man said, handing the bartender his own card. He turned back to me, smiling lecherously. He was easily twice my age, and reeked of whiskey. Great.
"Thanks," I mumbled, and then pointedly turned away from him, looking back out at the dance floor. But he was not deterred so easily. He put his hand on my arm again, a bit more firmly.
"You’re awfully pretty, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before," he said, leaning in close. His breath was fetid. I shot him an evil glare as I sipped at my drink. I jerked my arm away.
"Look, I’m not interested, okay, buddy?" I shot at him. I was slurring my words badly. Christ, I was drunk. I resisted the urge to rub my head, which was starting to pound. The man smirked at me.
"Hey, honey, no need to get worked up, I’m just being friendly," he replied, laying his hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off angrily, getting to my feet. I threw back the rest of the drink in one gulp and slammed the empty glass back onto the bar.
"Fuck off," I said to him, and stalked away. The room was spinning, and my head was really pounding now. I headed for the bathroom, intending to splash some cold water on my face. I was finding it hard to maintain my balance.
I stumbled into the bathroom and over to a sink. The small room was empty, and I was grateful for the privacy. I splashed water on my face, and then gripped the sides of the sink, willing the world to regain its focus. Fuck, that idiot had spoiled my mood, broken through the nice little mental fog I had going. Now I just felt miserable, and very, very drunk.
The door opened. I looked up into the mirror. It was him. Fuck. I spun around, ready to tell him to go fuck himself. I was taken by surprise when he grabbed my shoulders and slammed me back into the sink. I swore as the hard edge dug into the small of my back.
"Listen you little whore, no one tells me to fuck off. Now, you’re going to be nice to me you understand? Very, very nice to me," he seethed, one hand snaking down to grab my crotch.
I saw red. I slammed an elbow into his ribs. He grunted in pain and released his grip on me.
"Why you little…" he seethed. "I was going to be gentle with you, but if you want to play rough…" He reached into his jacket and withdrew a knife, advancing on me again. I really wished the room wasn’t spinning so much. Everything seemed so unreal. He made a grab for my arm, and I lurched away clumsily. But the alcohol was pulling me down. I wasn’t fast enough, and I couldn’t help but cry out when his hand clamped down on the arm that I had pounded earlier. He smirked, slamming me back into the wall. Suddenly the knife was at my throat, and he was pressing his body against mine. "Now baby, it’ll be over a lot quicker if you don’t give me any more trouble."
Fuck. There was no way this loser was getting the better of me. I summoned all of my willpower and kneed him in the groin, while simultaneously knocking away the arm that held the knife. I felt the blade whisper against the skin of my throat before it went flying across the room, his grip on it lost. He stumbled back, cursing, but he still gripped my left arm. I kneed him again, much harder now that I had a bit of room to maneuver. He let go, doubling over in pain. I swore and bit my lip as pain shot up my leg from the all-but forgotten cuts on my thigh. The impact had probably ripped open some of the scabs. When the jerk started to straighten up, I punched him in the face, gratified by the feel of his nose splintering under my fist. He flew back, his skull hitting the wall, before slumping to the floor, out cold.
I stood there for a moment, staring at him, my body shaking with rage and adrenaline. Suddenly feeling sick to my stomach, I stumbled into one of the stalls, fell to my knees, and started to retch into the toilet. When I was finally done, I propped my elbows on the seat, holding my head in my hands. I was so unbelievably drunk. So out of control. So scared. I couldn’t believe what had almost happened. How close I had come to not being able to prevent it. If I’d had even just one more drink…
I shakily climbed to my feet. I had to get out of here. It was only a matter of time before someone else came into the bathroom. Plus, I didn’t want to be anywhere near here when that bastard regained consciousness.
I hurried out of the bathroom and out of the club, barely able to walk in a straight line. My brain was consumed by a different kind of fog, all the more pleasant aspects of drunkenness having long since taken flight. My nerves still hummed with adrenaline. My hands were shaking. Outside, I headed in the direction I was more-or-less sure I had come from. I had to stop in an alley to retch again. Dark spots were dancing in front of my eyes. Fuck. Experience told me I was very close to simply passing out. I didn’t relish doing so in some back alley, alone. The perfect target.
"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" I cursed, slamming my fist into the alley wall. Pain shot up my arm. My fist was already tender from breaking that loser’s nose. Now I had split the skin over my knuckles. Blood was running down over my hand. I leaned my forehead against the wall, cradling the arm to my chest. Pain was good, pain was keeping me conscious.
I had to think of a way out of this. Quatre’s. Go back to Quatre’s. But could I even find my way back there in this condition? And what if they were, like, waiting up for me or something? I supposed it was too much to hope that they had all gone to bed without checking on me, and therefore had no idea I was gone. So, what else? A hotel? I had my cash card with me, it would be no problem to pay for one. Then I could just deal with everyone tomorrow, after I’d sobered up. I could make up something about needing to be alone. They’d never have to know about this mess. Or maybe tomorrow I’d go down to the shuttle bay and buy a ticket out of here.
Okay, a hotel then. Now I just had to find one. And I just had to make my body cooperate, and make the world stop spinning… I stepped unsteadily back out into the street, leaning heavily on the wall for support. My head felt stuffed with cotton, and my stomach protested the movement.
"Duo? Duo!" a voice rang out behind me. What the fuck? I turned around, and froze at what I saw. Quatre and Trowa, hurrying towards me, relief and concern evident on their faces. Oh, shit. What the hell was I going to do now? I watched them approach warily, feeling very much like a deer caught in the headlights.
"My God, Duo, we’ve been looking for you everywhere! Everyone’s so worried! Where have you been?" Quatre asked frantically when they reached me. I looked at him balefully. I was overwhelmed by the sudden need to cry. Fuck. Another unfortunate drawback of being completely blitzed. A tendency toward melodramatic tears. "Duo? Duo are you okay?" Quatre asked, putting a hand on my shoulder.
I almost laughed. Almost. I hated the way they were looking at me. I hated that they were seeing me like this. And who did I have to blame? Only myself. Only my stupid, idiotic self. I smiled at Quatre and Trowa humourlessly. They stared back at me as if I had lost my mind.
"No, Quatre. I am most definitely not okay," I replied, my words slurred.
"Duo?" Quatre asked uncertainly, his eyes wide.
"He’s bleeding," Trowa said, reaching for my injured arm. I let him examine my split knuckles. "Were you in a fight or something?" he asked me. I just smirked at him. You could say that. Suddenly I turned and took a couple of faltering steps back into the alley before falling to my knees and once again retching. Fuck. Could this be any more humiliating? Trowa knelt beside me and started rubbing my back soothingly. Question answered.
"Quatre, call the others and tell them to go home, we found him. And have Rashid send a car, there’s no way he’s walking back to the estate," Trowa instructed. Quatre made a noise of agreement and then I heard him speaking on his cell phone. My stomach was long-since empty, and I was left helplessly dry-heaving. The smell of sickness hung heavily in the air. Finally, it passed, and I sat back, leaning against the alley wall for support. My head felt so heavy. Everything faded into a pain-filled blur. I was dimly aware of someone wiping my face with a cloth. Some time later someone gently pulled me to my feet and helped me into the back of a car. I remember nothing of the drive back to the estate.
Back at the house, Quatre and Trowa each took an arm to support me as we went inside. I was beyond walking under my own power. Of course, everyone was there, waiting for us. To see if I was okay. How touching. Voices assailed me, bodies pressed close, but nothing was registering anymore. It was all a blur. I just wanted to be left alone, to be allowed to retreat to my room to pass out in peace. I tried to tell them so, but I doubt my slurred words were making sense. Apparently someone was insisting that my bloodied fist had to be cleaned and bandaged. I was sat in a chair while said person went to fetch the necessary supplies. My unfocused eyes were vaguely aware of someone crouching in front of me and speaking to me in a low voice. I blinked a few times, swaying. It was Heero. I couldn’t understand what he was saying. But I was filled with the horrible certainty that he was disappointed in me, that they were all disappointed in me. My last memory was of laying my face in my hands and starting to cry.
Damned drunken, melodramatic tears.
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***
Part 23
I didn't want to wake up. That was my first thought when my eyes
blinked open. There was a vicious headache squeezing my brain, and
there was a nasty taste in my mouth. My stomach felt... unsettled. My
fist throbbed, my arm ached, and my thigh stung. All very unpleasant,
and all very good reasons to slip back into the void of sleep. But the
longer I lay there the more apparent it became that more sleep was not
forthcoming. Blearily, I sat up.
I was in my room, on my bed. I was still wearing the clothes I'd been
wearing last night, though someone had taken off my boots. I rubbed my
aching head. Last night... Blurred, indistinct images tumbled
through my head. Oh, fuck.
Fear crept up my spine. Oh, God, I'd really done it this time. What
the hell could everyone be thinking of me? My cheeks burned with
shame. Stupid, stupid, stupid! And that jerk... what could have
happened... Cold, sick fear gripped my stomach. Tears pricked at my
eyes. Which is when I suddenly remembered bawling like a baby in front
of Heero. For the second time in as many days. Only this time, I could
only presume that everyone else had seen it, too. Oh, fuck.
I used to pride myself on being a person who never cried. At least not
in front of other people. If I occasionally cried myself to sleep at
night, well then it was no one's business but my own. Only,
occasionally had grown into frequently. And not just at night. More
and more often over the past couple of years, I found myself crying.
Crying for so many different reasons, like the horrible, aching void
in my chest, or the complete and utter helplessness that I felt. Or
sometimes for no discernible reason at all. But this... this crying in
front of other people... this was too horrible for words. It was
absolutely mortifying. I felt so ashamed my skin was crawling.
I had to answer the call of nature. I slid listlessly off the bed and
stumbled to the bathroom, squinting against my pounding headache. I
thought idly of taking some aspirin for it... and swallowed back a
bark of hysterical laughter. Then I could have sobbed. I wondered
dimly if I would ever be able to take a painkiller again without
feeling overwhelmed with shame.
As I stood in the bathroom emptying my bladder, I noticed spots of
dried blood on the floor. For a moment I frowned at them in confusion.
And then suddenly I remembered, breath freezing in my chest. I had cut
in here yesterday. But what had I done with the blades? It was a
disconcerting blank in my memory.
Cursing under my breath, I hurriedly finished in the bathroom and
rushed back into my room and over to the dresser. Frantically, I pawed
through the drawer I had originally hid the package in. Damn, damn,
DAMN! They weren't there! My eyes combed the room. I looked down at
the floor. I had taken them out of the drawer, and the package had
burst apart when I tried to open it. They'd scattered all over the
floor. I only remembered picking the one up, the one that I'd used. I
must have left the others on the floor, just like I must have left the
other one in the bathroom, since I had no memory of doing anything
else with it. But now they were gone. Which could only mean...
Someone had found them.
Along with blood on the bathroom floor.
Which meant that they knew I'd cut again.
I fell back against the dresser and slowly slid to the floor. For
once, I couldn't even cry. I just felt such a complete and utter sense
of desolation. Hopeless. This was all so incredibly hopeless. I let my
head fall back against the dresser, my skull reverberating with the
resulting thud. My hangover did not appreciate the gesture. I did it
again anyway, harder.
"Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless..." I muttered, punctuating each word by
smacking the back of my skull against the dresser. I stopped only when
nausea was threatening to overwhelm me.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream more than I had ever wanted
anything in my entire life. I wanted to curl into a little ball and
wail. I honestly didn't know what was stopping me. So what if the
others heard me? It wasn't as if things could possibly get any
worse. But of course, how many times had I thought that, only to be
shown that things could indeed get worse? Much, much worse. If there
was anything that I had learned in the past couple of weeks, it was
that I should never underestimate just how bad my life could get.
I didn't know what to do. What was there for me to do? My eyes burned,
and now there were tears tracking down my face, but I didn't care. I
was beyond caring anymore. What did it matter? Nothing mattered. I'd
never felt more helpless. Not even the night I'd swallowed the
aspirin, only a few short days ago. My jaw clenched. Why couldn't it
have worked? Why'd they have to find me in time? Why couldn't I have
just died?
I'm not sure how long I sat there in a daze, but finally I climbed
wearily to my feet. My stomach did a flip-flop, and my headache
renewed its pounding tenfold. I thought idly of all the times in the
past few months that I had woken up with a hangover, and had simply
started drinking again to get rid of it. It had worked really well. I
suddenly remembered Dr. Mitchell suggesting that I was an alcoholic. I
grimaced, thinking about what had happened last night. I guessed that
there really wasn't any point in denying it any more, even to myself.
Chalk it up to one more thing that I had fucked up in my life. My
chest hurt so much. Just one more thing... one of so many.
Without really thinking about it I found myself leaving the room. I
wasn't really sure where I was headed, but I really hoped that I
didn't run into anyone else. I walked in a daze. I could only imagine
how I looked. Braid messy and coming loose from being slept on. Eyes
puffy and bloodshot, both from the hangover and from crying. Shoulders
hunched, arms crossed over my chest, hugging my body in what could
only be called a defensive posture.
I found myself in one of the upstairs parlors. There was a small wet
bar in the corner. I eyed it. Christ, was I seriously considering it?
I was, I really was. I shook my head. And then I found myself walking
over to the bar. Why not? What did it matter anymore? My eyes roamed
over the selection of bottles. My hand reached out and touched the
bottle of vodka. It felt like I was in a dream, watching someone else.
Some small part of me was clamoring in protest, telling me how insane
it was to be even contemplating having a drink right now. I was
seriously depressed, already hung over, there was no way the others
wouldn't find out... My lips tightened. None of it mattered as much as
the pain in my chest, or the horrible, helpless despair that was
gripping my soul. None of it mattered as much as trying to numb the
pain. It didn't even matter that the method was flawed, that it would
only end up causing more pain. That it was, indeed, already the source
of a big chunk of that pain. Maybe I could crawl into a bottle and
never come out again, never... never have to think about everyone
watching me while I cried drunken hysterical tears, about Heero
crouching in front of me and speaking indistinct words that could only
have been words of condemnation...
"Fuck it," I whispered, and picked up the bottle.
Though small, the wet bar was well-stocked with the basics, and before
long I was sitting on one of the stools, sipping a Bloody Mary. Of
course I knew it was a mistake. I just couldn't summon the wherewithal
to care at that point. And I was hardly in a frame of mind to be
thinking reasonably. I finished the glass, and was feeling... not
better, no, certainly not that, but... something other than I had been feeling before. And that was priceless.
I mixed another drink and wandered over to the stereo system. I picked
a CD, something loud and depressing, and put it on, hooking up the
headphones as I did so. I certainly didn't want anyone else to hear it
and know I was in here. The cable was long, and I settled myself down
in one of the overstuffed armchairs with my drink. I closed my eyes
and leaned back in the chair, sipping occasionally from my glass as I
let the music wash over me, drowning out my thoughts.
Of course it couldn't last. I had a new CD playing and was sipping at
my third drink when I was found. I had been leaning back in the chair,
lost in the music when the headphones were quite abruptly removed from
my head. I blinked up at the person standing over me. Heero. Shit.
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked. Heero looked
less than pleased. Heero looked like he wanted to pound the shit out
of me. Without even thinking about it, I found myself smirking at him.
Christ, I must really have a death wish.
"I'm listening to some music," I said before taking another sip of my
drink. Thankfully, the words were not even slightly slurred. My months
of excessive drinking guaranteed that it would take more than three
drinks to get me off-balance. It was then that I noticed Hilde and
Quatre were also in the room, hovering back towards the door, their
faces stricken. I looked away from them, taking another sip, holding
on to the dubious comfort of the alcohol burning a path down my throat.
"And what about this?" Heero asked, gesturing at the glass in my hand
with disgust. Disgust. I wanted to curl up away from it, but I held
my body rigid, held the anger and resentment at bay.
"It's nothing," I mumbled, sipping again, needing reinforcement.
"Nothing?" Heero seethed. I peered up at him in surprise. Heero was
very, very angry. I'd never seen him so angry. He wanted to hit me. I
could see it in his eyes. The tension between us was palpable.
Unconsciously I found myself sinking back into the chair. Hilde
stepped forward uncertainly.
"Quatre went to your room to check on you, but you weren't there. Gave
us all quite a scare, thinking maybe you'd taken off again," Hilde
said, her voice calm and reasonable. I smirked again, hating myself
all the while.
"Well, I'm right here, no need to get all worked up," I said
scornfully. Heero leaned down, his eyes boring into me. I shrank back
warily.
"You think this is funny?" he asked, his voice low and deadly. Oh,
shit. "You think it's funny that you had your friends worried to death
about you, yet again!" His voice was rising, but retained its deadly
anger. I couldn't help but wince. "You're sitting there, apparently
set on drinking yourself into a stupor again, and you think no one had
any right to be worried?" He was yelling now. Heero didn't yell. I saw
Trowa and then Wufei appear in the doorway behind Quatre, apparently
drawn by the noise. Last of all Sally appeared, her face drawn as she
took in the situation. Fuck. All I needed was an audience.
"Leave me alone," I muttered darkly, bringing the glass to my lips
again. Only it didn't quite make it. Heero lashed out and knocked the
drink from my hand, the glass shattering as it hit the floor. I heard
several sharp intakes of breath. I blinked at the shards of glass on
the floor in disbelief. Anger swelled in my chest. I rose to my feet,
staring Heero in the face.
"What the hell did you do that for?!" I yelled.
"For your own good," he said, his eyes meeting mine challengingly.
Fury blinded me. How dare he? How dare he imply that I was some
child that didn't know how to take care of itself? How dare he imply
that he knew better than I did what was best for me? Who cared if he
was probably right? I pushed him, and he wasn't expecting it so he
stepped back, and I easily stepped around him and headed for the bar.
I don't know what I was thinking. Crazy, simply crazy to be thinking
of making myself another drink right there in front of everyone. But
Heero didn't give me the opportunity. As soon as he saw where I was
headed, he reached out and grabbed my arm, swinging me back around to
face him.
"Let go of me!" I yelled, pulling futilely at my arm. He was stronger
than me of course, Mr. Can-Bend-Steel-With-His-Bare-Hands. I was so
angry. I couldn't see straight, couldn't think straight, just pulled
and jerked in blind rage, trying to get loose, cursing all the while.
The strange thing was, I wasn't angry at him, at least, not a lot.
Mostly, I was angry at myself. Angry that I had gotten myself into
this situation, angry that I couldn't see any way out of it, angry at
my stupidity, at my helplessness, at the horrible choking despair that
was swallowing me whole. Heero was just a convenient target at the
moment. "Let me go you fucking SON OF A BITCH!" I screamed in helpless
rage.
That's when it happened. I didn't even see it coming. Heero let go of
my arm and hauled back and belted me in the face. The blow knocked me
off my feet, and I went sprawling backwards on the floor. My skull hit
the hardwood with a resounding crack.
Silence. Dead silence.
I stared up at the ceiling in a daze, my ears ringing. I reached up
and gingerly touched my split lip. There was blood in my mouth.
Suddenly, the spell was broken, and Hilde rushed forward.
"Duo!" she cried, kneeling beside me. I sat up with some effort,
shrugging her off.
"Get away from me," I muttered darkly, then immediately felt guilty at
her hurt look. I wasn't angry at her, hell, I wasn't even angry at
Heero. I looked up at him, wiping blood from my chin. He was just
standing there, looking down at me with the most bizarre statement on
his face. It occurred to me that he was more surprised than anyone
that he had hit me. Sally was hovering around behind Hilde, probably
concerned that I had suffered great injury. But the split lip was
nothing. The reawakened pounding headache from cracking my skull off
the floor was nothing. Not when compared to the feeling in my chest.
It seemed to me that I should feel some indignation, some anger over
Heero hitting me. But I didn't. I just felt empty. I felt so
incredibly empty and helpless. And it scared me. It scared me to the
core of my being, that absence of... of something vital. I looked at
Heero again, at the desolate look in his eyes, at the way he was
clenching his fists at his sides. I looked at the others, still
hovering back by the door, such out-of-character uncertainty on their
faces. Finally, I looked at Hilde, kneeling at my side, and Sally,
standing behind her. At their uncertainty, their desolation. All
because of me. All caused by me.
I rubbed my face wearily. Swallowed the blood still leaking into my
mouth from my split lip. How had I gotten here? How had this happened
to me? How... how could I make this stop? I buried my face in my
hands. Traitorous tears were slipping from my eyes yet again.
"I... I don't know... what to do," I mumbled brokenly, despair
gripping my heart, squeezing the life from my soul. "I'm... sorry. I'm
so sorry... Someone... someone please tell me what I'm supposed to do..."
Silence reigned in the room.
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***
Part 24
I sat in the armchair in my room, hugging my knees to my chest.
Everything... hurt. My thigh burned. My arm throbbed. My split lip
stung. Pain pulsed behind my eyes, intense and persistent. I felt...
so incredibly lost.
Hilde sat in the desk chair, practically wringing her hands in her
nervousness. She hadn't said a word since she and Sally had led me
back here from the parlour where I'd spent the afternoon, drinking and
listening to music. Sally had left us to fetch her medical bag, having
decided that my lip needed a stitch or two. Heero packed a powerful
punch. I supposed I should consider myself lucky he hadn't knocked out
a tooth. Lucky. What a fucking joke.
I knew why Hilde had stayed behind. They didn't want to leave me
alone. Even as I resented it, I knew I had no one else to blame but
myself. I had certainly done enough to earn their mistrust. I leaned
my head back against the chair, staring out the window with dull eyes.
Hollow. I was so fucking hollow.
No one had said anything. When I had asked them to tell me what to do,
none of them had known what to say. They'd just looked at me
helplessly. Uncomfortably. Until finally Hilde and Sally had helped me
to my feet and led me from the room. I had not resisted them. Heero's
mouth had opened, like he was going to say something, but then he had
snapped it shut, turning his face away. Empty. I was so fucking empty.
What was I going to do? What could I possibly do? The hopelessness
was all-consuming. It scared me, twisting my insides with cold dread.
There was little that the human mind could not endure, as long as
there was hope that it would eventually end. But when there is no
hope? What's left then? How could I... how could I keep going on like
this, feeling like this every day? Forever? Because there was no
hope. I knew that with complete and utter certainty. There comes a
point when you just have to give up. When you just have to accept that
you are not qualified to be a normal, functioning human being. And
nothing can change that.
I hugged my knees closer to my chest, fingers digging into the
material of my jeans. I kept my head turned away from Hilde's
direction, not wanting her to see the look on my face as I clenched my
eyes shut and ground my teeth together, grimacing in pain. I wanted it
to stop. I needed it to stop. Had tried to make it stop... but it
hadn't worked.
Memories of that disastrous attempt rose in my mind, and I barely
repressed a shudder. I felt every bit as desolate now as I had that
night. Nothing had changed. If anything, things were worse. I could
see it in the way the others looked at me. I couldn't stand the way
they looked at me. I didn't want to be here, with them. I didn't
want to be anywhere. But could I really... try that again? Once more,
I had to repress a shudder. But how could I not at least consider the
option? I wanted... I wanted out of this skin. Just to not have to
to feel, to not have to deal with... everything. I needed... I needed to
be able to think. To think about things clearly. My fingers itched
to hold a blade. I needed focus, focus, focus... the kind of focus
that only sinking a razor into my skin could bring.
Somehow I had ended up with my arms wrapped up around my head, face
pressed against my knees. The need to cut was so intense I couldn't
stand it. I rocked back and forth restlessly, helplessly. Screaming...
I could hear screaming in my head. The pain was so bad, so bad... It
was choking me. Drowning me. Killing me. Need to make it stop, need
to make it stop... stop... stop... STOP!
A gentle hand on my back startled me, causing me to snap my head up.
Sally had returned, medical bag in hand. Her face was neutral... her
doctor's face. Hilde hovered around behind her. Scared, but trying to
hide it. My fault. My fault...
"Let's have a look at that lip, okay?" Sally said gently. Numbly, I
unfolded myself, and then sat there expressionlessly as she cleaned
and stitched my lip. After a few moments had passed in silence, Sally
cleared her throat and began to speak.
"Duo... Duo, I owe you an apology," she said with a sigh. I turned my
gaze on her, eyes dull and glassy with despair. She sighed, moving
back to sit on the edge of the bed, having finished with her
ministrations.
"We’ve been going about this the wrong way," she said after a moment,
looking me in the eye. I blinked and looked away, in too much pain to
meet anyone's gaze head-on. Her words took a moment to register. What
did she mean?
"I'm afraid we've... I've been focusing on the symptom instead of
the problem. Self-injury is a symptom. Focusing on the larger
problem is just as, if not more important than focusing on trying to
get you to stop. In fact, just trying to get you to stop without
addressing the larger problem can be downright harmful," she
continued. I lifted my head to eye her warily, but still not looking
her in the eye. Where was she going with this?
"In fact," she continued, "the same is true regarding Dr. Mitchell. It
was a mistake to try to make you continue seeing her when you didn't
want to. Even she told me as much when I phoned to cancel your
appointment yesterday. She said it wouldn't do you any good at all to
be seeing someone against your will. She gave me a list of all the
good therapists she knew of who had experience with treating patients
who self-injure. Only a couple of them are on L4, but if neither of
them are to your liking, we'll go wherever it's necessary..."
I blinked at her. We? Go wherever it's necessary? Shame was coiling in
my stomach. It didn't make any sense. Why... why would she or anyone
be willing to do that? For me? I didn't deserve it. Time and time
again it would feel as if no one cared, as if I was worth nothing to
them, and then... there'd be something like this. Why were they trying
to help me? Why hadn't they given up yet? They should give up! I
didn't deserve their caring! Unless it was just pity... It had to be
just pity... No one could care... not about someone as worthless and
as pathetic as me. I clenched my jaw, wanting once again to fold
myself up into a fetal position in the chair, but afraid of the
impression it might give Sally and Hilde. Unshed tears were pricking
at my eyes. I was not going to cry now, not in front of them. Not again.
"There's another thing," Sally mentioned with a sigh. Just peachy.
"We... we found the... the razor blades, as I'm sure you noticed."
Every nerve in my body suddenly stiffened, and my breath caught in my
chest. Oh God, I did not want to talk about that. If she noticed the
increase in my discomfort, Sally ignored it and continued on. "First
off, we're not... we're not angry or anything like that. It's
important that you know that." She wasn't looking at me. God, I wished
I could just disappear. "I think it best though... if you would let me
check whatever you did... to check for infection and clean them
properly..."
"They're fine," I snapped, more harshly than I would have liked. My
face was inflamed with horrible, all-consuming shame. Sally did raise
her eyes then, a helpless look on her face. I looked away sharply,
finally giving in and bringing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my
arms around them tightly. The cuts on my thigh burned hotly, as if in
response to being the subject of debate. Anything. I would have given
anything to be somewhere else at that moment.
"Duo... It really would be best... you don't have to be ashamed..."
But I did feel ashamed, so ashamed I wanted kick and scream and
rage. So ashamed I could barely draw breath. So ashamed I wanted to
die. "It would be bad if they got infected. And Dr. Mitchell said it
would be best to encourage you to be open about this... to reassure
you that you don't have to hide it, that no one is judging you..."
Hysterical laughter threatened to bubble over. Be open about it? Not
hide it? Was she fucking serious?
"I want them back," I said before I could stop myself. Sally blinked
at me.
"What?" she asked.
"I want them back," I repeated, my skin crawling. "If you really mean
it you'll give them back." Sally stared at me for a long moment.
"You want us to give them back to you?" she asked in disbelief. Oh
God, oh God, why had I said that? But I couldn't take it back now. And
God, I needed them back, I really did, I needed to cut so bad my skin
was crawling and my fists were clenching and every breath was painful.
And what did it matter now, they couldn’t possibly think any less of
me now, so what did it matter, what difference could it ever make
now? I dug my fingernails into my palms, trying to suppress the
hysteria I could feel coming on as my thoughts became erratic and
disjointed.
"Yes," I said, a note of desperation creeping into my voice. "You said
you wouldn't judge and that I shouldn't hide it, well I just want them
back I won't do anything I promise I won't I'll try my hardest but I
just want them back I'll feel a lot better if I could just have them
back." I paused, breathless, and hating myself more than I ever
could have imagined. How could I really be saying this to them? Had I
sunk that low? Was I really that desperate? I felt so sick with shame
that I thought I might be ill right then and there. Sally looked over
her shoulder at Hilde uncertainly.
"I think you should give them back," Hilde said after a moment's
consideration. Relief flowed through me, like cool water splashing
through my veins. "He needs to know we trust him."
"Are you sure? But... but what if he..." Sally trailed off.
"He said he'd try not to. That's good enough for me. And we can help him."
"I don't know... Hilde, he's not thinking clearly right now..."
I pushed my face against my knees, rage and helplessness boiling up in
me, pushing away the blessed relief I'd felt only a moment before.
"Please stop talking about me as if I'm not even here," I ground out
icily, not bothering to lift my head.
"Oh, Duo! I'm sorry! I didn't even realize..." Hilde exclaimed, her
voice chagrined. I sensed her move to my side and felt her place a hand on my
shoulder. I managed not to flinch. "I'll get them back for you, okay?
Please just promise me you'll try not to use them. But don't feel
guilty if you do! Trying is all we ask. And there are lists of things
you can do when you... when you have the urge. They can help you to
resist. You don't have to be ashamed of this Duo. Just please let me
help you. Let us help you."
I raised my head a little, enough to turn a measuring gaze on her. Her
expression was so earnest. She really wanted to help. I didn't
understand it at all but she really did want to help me. I... I didn't
know how to deal with that. And I was so, so unworthy of the effort.
"Since when are you such an expert on the subject?" I asked her
wearily, hoping my voice didn't sound too harsh. Her cheeks stained pink.
"I've, uh... been doing some reading. On the internet," she explained
with a small, sheepish smile.
"Oh?" I replied with some interest.
"Yes!" she continued on excitedly, sensing that she had captured my
attention. "You wouldn't believe how much information there is out
there if you just look. So many people have gone through this, Duo.
You wouldn't believe how many. You're not alone. You should look into
it. I think it could really help you, reading about other people's
experiences. I could show you some of the sites I found, if you like.
You should think about it at least, and let me know well, when you're
ready."
I rested my head against my knees again, head still turned to look at
her contemplatively. She had gone through a lot of trouble. For me. It
seemed unreal. And the thought of... of seeking out information and
stories about cutting on the internet was both terrifying and
strangely intriguing. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea. Maybe...
maybe it could help me figure out why the hell I was so screwed up.
I took a deep breath.
"Okay," I said slowly. "We... we could do that." Her face lit up, and
I was just relieved to finally be causing her something other than pain.
"That's great!" She paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression on
her face. "You know, Duo, even with all that I've read, I'd hardly
call myself an expert. I... don't really know what I'm doing. I don't
know what the right things are to say. I don't know if anything I
could do would help you or just hurt you more. All I know is that
you're my friend and I want to help you. Even if I can't understand
everything, even if I stumble and say or do the wrong things
sometimes, I want to be here for you, and do whatever I can to help."
I swallowed, not knowing what to say in response. Not knowing what to
feel. Hilde turned to Sally.
"Go get his blades," she instructed firmly. I felt a small jolt of
surprise. It was the first time since Sally had first brought them up
that anyone had actually referred to them as 'blades'. For some
strange reason I couldn't put my finger on, I think I was actually
grateful to Hilde for that. Sally still did not look terribly pleased,
but she gathered her medical bag and left the room.
Just the two of us in the room again, Hilde crouched down next to my
chair, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leaning her head
against mine. At first I stiffened, but slowly some of the tension
began ebbing from my body and I found myself leaning back against her.
"We're going to get through this, Duo. I believe in you," Hilde said
firmly. It felt almost as if something gave in my chest, and the tears
I'd been holding back for so long began to track down over my face.
"We all believe in you," she continued, giving my shoulders a
squeeze. "Even Heero, though he may have a funny way of showing it,"
she added with a small laugh. I couldn't help but give a small laugh
of my own in response. It dissolved into a sob. Her grip tightened,
the other arm coming up to wrap around my folded legs in a full-on
embrace.
I wanted to deny it. I really did. I wanted to push her away and curl
up into a small ball of pain and misery and self-loathing and just
die. Alone. As I truly felt I was and deserved to be. But I
couldn't deny that it was such a... such a relief to let someone
who just might really care about me hold me and let me cry soft, quiet
sobs of pain and fear and desperation.
Hilde buried her face in my shoulder and held me for a long time as I
cried. I could feel the wetness on my skin where her own silent tears
were soaking through my shirt. And I thought maybe I didn't have to be
alone, if I could just let myself believe it.
Author's note: Hey, just because I'm a rabid yaoi fangirl it doesn't mean I have to
dislike the female characters. I happen to really like the Duo/Hilde
friendship dynamic. Never fear, Heero will be back in the next chapter.
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***
Part 25
Sally returned some time later, and silently handed me the small package of razor blades, her face stony. She definitely wasn't happy about this.
"Thank you," I said softly, the blades a comforting weight in my clenched fist.
"Yes, thank you, Sally." Hilde added. She squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. Sally nodded stiffly.
"We're going to have to talk more about this. The others aren't very happy, either," she said. I swallowed. "And we'll need to talk about the other therapists, too," Sally continued, rubbing her face wearily. "But not tonight. I don't think any of us are up to it." She looked at me. "Duo... will you be joining the rest of us for some dinner? We would... we would really like it if you did."
I blinked at her. I was actually a bit hungry. I'd hardly eaten a thing the past few days, and nothing at all that day. But... how had it gotten this way? That she had to ask me to join them so... so earnestly? But I knew how. It was my fault. I was alienating them. I was destroying things between us. I was ruining everything. My fist clenched more tightly around the package of blades. Oh, so reassuring, such a relief to have them back.
"I... I don't know if I should," I answered, looking away. My presence would make everything awkward. They would be better off without me. As usual. Plus, the thought of seeing them right now, especially Heero, was beyond mortifying.
"Please, Duo, come down to dinner. You don't have to hide from the people who love you," Hilde said pleadingly. I couldn't help but twitch. The people who loved me? But I didn't feel loved. Sometimes, I could understand logically in my head that these people had to at least care about me, because of the things they'd done, because of the words they'd said. But somehow I could just never really feel loved. It didn't reach my heart. My brain may be able to think logically now and then but my heart knew that I was worthless, and that it was impossible that anyone really cared. My heart ached with the certainty of it.
But... didn't Hilde care? Hadn't she shown that? I felt so confused. I felt torn apart. How could I ever hope to live any kind of functional, normal life when I couldn't even straighten out something so apparently simple in my head? What the fuck was wrong with me? Why couldn't I just believe it? Because it's not true, a dark voice whispered in my head. Sooner or later she'll realize how worthless you are and give up. They all will. It's just a matter of time.
Well, fuck it.
I wasn't going to hide in my room. I would go down to dinner and they could stare at me and think bad things about me if they wanted to. What did it fucking matter anyway? They were already thinking them. Any hope of pulling the wool over their eyes was long gone. So fuck it. Maybe if I tried hard enough, I could convince myself that it didn't hurt. That them looking at me with those knowing eyes didn't make my heart ache and my soul twist and my hands itch for a razor blade. Yeah, right.
"Fine, I'll go," I finally said with a sigh. "Just... give me a few minutes to clean up, okay?" Sally smiled in relief, nodded and left the room. Hilde beamed and gave me another quick hug. I caught her arm as she turned to follow Sally. "Could you... could you maybe wait for me?" I asked hesitantly. New-found policy of not caring or not, I still didn't fancy the idea of going down there alone. She nodded understandingly.
"Sure, I'll be right outside." And with that she was gone.
And I was alone.
I stood looking around my room in a something of a daze for a few minutes. It had been a hell of a day. Fuck, it had been a hell of a week. I felt so... so weary from it. Deep down to my bones. But right, getting ready for dinner. First, I had to put the blades away. Somewhere they wouldn't easily be found if the others decided I shouldn't have them after all. After some deliberation, I taped the small package to the underside of one of the dresser drawers. Not perfect, considering I was in a house full of former terrorists, but it was the best I could do for now.
I changed my clothes, since I was still wearing my club gear from the night before. I brushed and re-braided my hair, making a mental note to have a shower before going to bed. I flexed my aching right fist, staring at the scabbed knuckles for a moment before I remembered slamming my fist into the alley wall. Fucking idiotic thing to do. My bruised arm throbbed dully and my thigh stung. All damage I had done to myself. I gripped the bathroom counter, staring at my reflection in the mirror, overwhelmed by a bitter wave of self-loathing. But Hilde and the others were waiting. I brought my fist down on my already bruised arm several times, the intensified waves of pain lightening the fog in my brain, grounding me in the here and now.
True to her word, Hilde was waiting out in the hallway. With a tentative smile, she reached out and took my hand, and together we headed downstairs. There was a lump in my throat that simply would not be banished, no matter how many times I tried to swallow it back. It doesn't matter, I tried to remind myself. They're already disgusted by you and nothing will change that and it doesn't matter. But of course it did matter, or else I wouldn't have needed to focus on the throbbing ache in my arm to keep from fleeing back up the stairs.
Stepping into that dining room... I had a sense of deja vu. How many times was I going to be entering a room full of my supposed friends, feeling like I was going before a firing squad? But I wasn't alone this time. I squeezed Hilde's hand reflexively, and she squeezed mine back. A few deep breaths, and I was as ready as I was ever going to be.
We took our seats. I found myself unable to look anyone in the eye. It was... beyond uncomfortable. My skin was crawling, crawling... I rubbed at my arm unconsciously. I needed the pain, needed the grounding. Fuck, how could I do this?
Heero was there. Our eyes met briefly as I flitted my gaze nervously around the room. His expression was stony. I looked away. The tightness in my chest was crushing. No matter what Hilde thought, I was sure he wasn't sorry he'd hit me. I had deserved it after all. I could barely breathe.
Quatre made a valiant attempt at dinner conversation. He questioned Wufei about his work. Wufei said that he'd have to be returning within a few days, they really couldn't do without him any longer. He glanced in my direction, almost apologetically. But why, really, did it matter? I still didn't understand why they were all hovering around me. Trowa, too, would have to be returning to the circus soon. I picked at my food listlessly. It would be easier, I thought, if I didn't have so many people hovering over me. But why wasn't Heero leaving? He hated me now, didn't he?
Sitting there... I was so incredibly aware of what a freak I was. These people were my friends. Yet I was so, so far away from them. I was sick, and it scared them. It scared them away from me when I needed them the most. I couldn't rely on them. I couldn't unload on them. They didn't know how to deal with it. And I'd already hurt them enough.
God, had it really been only a short time ago that I'd felt a bit hopeful as Hilde had held me upstairs? How... how could I hope for anything to change for the better when my moods were so tenuous? I couldn't control my emotions from one moment to the next. Freak, freak, freak... They could never understand. They could never deal with this. My self-loathing was so intense I felt light-headed.
I finished eating and retreated back upstairs, very, very grateful when no one protested or stopped me. I understood. They wanted a break from me. Who could blame them?
Back in my room. Alone. I leaned back against the closed door, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor. I drew my legs tight to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and burying my face in my knees.
I wanted to die.
Everything was such a mess. I hated myself. I hated how pathetic I was. I could feel it deep down to my bones. How simply fucking worthless I was. My whole body felt on edge, as if waiting for a fall. My arms folded back up over my head, fists clenching in my hair.
Worthless...
Pathetic...
Loathsome...
How can a person be expected to deal with something like this?
I crawled forward, sobs choking in my throat, to hit the play button on the CD player and flood the room with angst-filled music. I wanted to drown in it. I wanted it to take me away.
And it was like it hit me like a ton of bricks. I fumbled desperately for the drawer with the blades. I needed them, needed them so badly. And then I was sitting with my back against the wall next to the dresser, left sleeve rolled up and blade clutched desperately in my right hand. Something inside me was trembling. I was detached yet... not. I could have been watching a movie, except that I could feel the metal in my hand, the hard floor under my butt, the deep, desperate breaths I sucked into my lungs.
The forearm is the absolute best place to cut.
The skin is soft and so very, very sensitive. The way the blade can just sink in and be so... so hypnotic... The exquisitely sharp pain. Necessity and discretion may lead you to cut in other places, but the forearm will always be the best, the most satisfying, the most seductive.
I surveyed the scarred, ugly skin, still streaked with scabbed lines from the last time I'd cut there, and then sank the blade into soft white flesh near the crook of my elbow. I sighed with pain, clenching my eyes shut. I drew the blade down, wincing as I felt it drawing through my skin, parting my flesh. And then it was over, and I could feel my whole body going limp, the release almost palpable. My head thunked against the wall as I just let myself feel the cool sensation of blood beading out of the wound.
But still, it wasn't enough.
I drew the blade through the soft white skin of my arm several more times, each time seeming to deepen the release. Sharp, sharp, so sharp...
And I don't think I could have hated myself more.
I was letting Hilde down. I was letting everyone down. What would Heero think, if he could see me right now, at this most horrible, most personal moment? My blood ran cold in my veins at the thought.
I let the blade slip from my fingers. Once again, I wrapped my arms around my legs and buried my face in my knees, not caring as trickles of blood and tears soaked into my clothes. The pain was a sharp ache in my flesh.
I sat like that for a long time, until the CD I had playing had long since finished. Listlessly, I finally crawled to my feet, putting the blades away before turning the CD back on and crawling into bed. Fuck getting a shower. I would do it in the morning. Ridiculously early hour it might be, but all I wanted to do was sink into oblivion. Sleep would have to do for now.
I returned to consciousness slowly and painfully. The light streaming in from the window told me that it was sometime the next morning. I felt like complete and utter crap. Not too surprising, considering the last few days. A drug overdose and binge drinking on top of very little food. And I was in desperate need of a shower.
It was hard to find the impetus to actually get out of bed. There really didn't seem to be much point. So much simpler to simply lay there in a semi-dozing state, just letting my body feel its miscellaneous aches and pains each time I shifted position.
The relative peace couldn't last, though. Eventually there was a tentative knock at the door. I sighed and rolled over onto my back.
"Yeah?" I called unenthusiastically. The door opened and Hilde peeked her head in. I quickly checked to make sure the fresh cuts on my arm were covered.
"It's after one in the afternoon. Do you maybe want to come down and have some lunch?" she asked. I blinked at her. After one? That meant I'd been in bed for almost sixteen hours. I sat up slowly, feeling lethargic. I was just so... drained.
"I guess so," I finally replied, rubbing at my eyes tiredly. "I should probably get a shower first, though. I'm rank," I added with a wry smile.
"Great!" Hilde beamed. I raised an eyebrow at her. "No, not that you're rank," she laughed. "I'll ask the cook to get a sandwich and some soup ready for you. Is that okay?" I nodded. As soon as she'd closed the door, the smile melted from my face. Sixteen hours in bed or not, all I wanted to do was sink back into those inviting pillows and never face the outside world again.
Sighing, I reluctantly climbed out of bed. For a moment all I could do was stand there, gazing around the room, just... lost. Yesterday had really taken a lot out of me, leaving me feeling flat and empty. I needed to snap out of this, to get going, to be able to function as some semblance of a normal human being. Even as I felt consumed by the pointlessness of it all. Jaw clenching, I took a razor blade to the bathroom with me.
Going through the motions of getting a shower was more effort than it had any right to be. My body looked... wrecked. Bruised arm, bruised knuckles, scabbed chest, scabbed legs, scabbed arms, split lip... I couldn't believe how ugly I was. And even as I felt the self-loathing, I added to it by sinking that blade into the flesh of my arm several times, needing the pain, knowing I deserved it. Worthless, worthless, worthless... Any tears I shed were lost in the spray of the shower.
I did feel a little more human after I was cleaned and dressed. Still not even close to being prepared to face people, though. Not that I had much choice. Stomach a tight knot of dread, I headed downstairs.
Luckily, I didn't encounter anyone on my way to the kitchen. But not only was Hilde waiting for me there, but Heero was there, too. Oh, shit. Suddenly I wanted nothing more in the world than to have a nice strong drink. Or ten. Anything to numb the awful feeling that was suddenly crawling in my skin.
After a few moments Hilde noticed me hovering in the doorway like a scared rabbit. She waved me in, motioning to where a sandwich and a steaming bowl of soup were waiting on the breakfast nook table. She was also sitting at the table, books and papers spread out around her. She seemed to be working on one of her college courses. Heero was simply leaning against the counter, arms crossed, face stony. I don't think he could have looked more intimidating if he'd tried.
I ate quietly as Hilde told me about the course she was working on, nodding whenever necessary. Her speech was smooth and natural, not seeming at all like she was trying to cover up an awkward silence. And she didn't try to draw me into conversation, for which I was immensely grateful. I think I probably would have been able to actually relax a bit if Heero hadn't been there. I could practically feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. Why the hell was he just standing there? What the hell did he want?
"I need to talk to you, Duo. Alone," Heero said when I had finished the last of my food. My blood froze in my veins. Oh, this could so not be good. I looked desperately at Hilde, but she was nodding understandingly and already gathering up her books.
"I think it's time I took a break anyway," she said lightly. "Why don't you come find me later, Duo? Maybe we could take a look at those websites... if you wanted to, hmm?" She looked at me pointedly and mouthed 'Just listen to him' before leaving the room. I couldn't help but feel abandoned. Heero came over and took her seat. For a long time he just sat there looking at me as I flitted my gaze around the kitchen, looking everywhere but at him and picking nervously at a loose thread on my sleeve.
"Does... does it hurt?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence. I looked at him, startled and a little confused until I realized he must have been referring to my split lip. I shook my head, looking away again. It would have been really nice if the floor had just opened up and swallowed me. Funny how that never happens when you want it to. Heero sighed audibly, and I felt a stab of guilt. Why? Who the fuck knows? Heero was unhappy and it was my fault and that was all the reasoning my brain needed in order for me to feel bad about it.
"I owe you an apology," he said then. I had to look at him. Heero was apologizing? The look on his face was also alarming. He was scowling a little, which certainly wasn't unusual, but it was more of a... a pained scowl than his usual annoyed or angry scowls.
"Hey, man, I deserved it..." I started to protest, but he shook his head sharply.
"No! I shouldn't have done that. Even if you were being an idiot."
I couldn't help but smile wryly at that, even if it did make my gut twist. It was true. I had been acting like an idiot. But that didn't mean that hearing him just say it like that didn't hurt.
"Yeah, well..." My voice trailed off. I just didn't know what to say. I looked away sharply, my eyes stinging a little bit. Trying to talk about this was just... horrible. My chest felt so tight it was hard to breathe. I wanted to curl into a ball and die. Anything, anything at all just to not have to talk about this. But Heero plowed on, oblivious to my feelings.
"I just want to understand what's going on. I... I don't understand it at all," he said, an alien note of uncertainty in his voice. I felt a spike of resentment and of bitter, bitter self-loathing.
"You think I understand it? Well think again!" I snapped. His scowl deepened, and oh, I wanted to die so much.
"We're here, you know, you can talk to us. Why... why do you do these things to yourself? It doesn't make any sense!" he shot back. I was trembling. I could feel my insides trembling. I wanted to disappear, to never have to look anyone in the face again, to never have to talk to anyone ever again, to never have anyone know such personal, personal fucking weakness and shame about me ever again.
" I KNOW it doesn't make any sense!" I yelled. I clenched my eyes shut, wrapped my arms around myself in a fierce embrace. Please God, please, just kill me now. It was like my worst nightmare come to life. Trying to talk about this, trying to talk about it to someone... someone that I cared about, having them know this horrible, horrible thing about me, to be calling me on it. It was too much to bear.
Heero stood up and began to pace around the kitchen. To my horror, tears had started to track down my face. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! The crawling sensation in my skin was too much. It was taking every ounce of self-control I possessed not to slam my arms against the table repeatedly, not to yell and scream and rage and deaden this emotional pain with the physical.
"But why do you do these things to yourself? It's... it's stupid! What are we supposed to do to help you? What do you want from us?" Heero yelled back, glaring at me. I think I felt my heart crack.
"I DON'T KNOW! I don't know, okay? I don't know why I do things I know are stupid! You think I don't know hurting myself is stupid? You think I don't know it's a bad idea to drink when I'm depressed? I don't know why I do it, okay? I can't help it! I can't fucking help it! And I don't know what I want! I don't know what anyone can do! I JUST DON'T KNOW!" I screamed. I slumped forward onto the table, wrapping my arms around my head. The tears were flowing freely now. There was just no stopping them. Why couldn't I explain this to him? Why couldn't I make him understand? Crawling, crawling, crawling... the shame was crawling through my skin, and I would have given anything, anything at all, not to have to deal with this.
"What the hell is going on in here?" Sally's voice suddenly interjected from the doorway.
Oh, perfect. Just fucking perfect.
TBC
* * * * * * *
You like? C&C always welcomed!
Amanda 02
Angst Addict
Wifey to bow ryu! ^_^
http://www.livejournal.com/users/amanda_02/
"Because I love you I want to rip you apart. I want to pile corpses
before you."
- Muraki to Tsuzuki, 'Yami no Matsuei'
"There's nothing to writing. You just sit at the keyboard and open a
vein."
"Both ways... it's the only way to swing."
"You can't commit me... who'll feed my cat?"
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