This chapter contains a sensitive subject, and it can be a trigger for some. Read at your own will, but you had been warned.
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Chapter Five: Multifaceted Pain
Do you know that feeling when you're holding something so valuable, then you clumsily trip on your own feet; you lose grip on that something and everything becomes slow-mo as you helplessly watch it shatter to the ground? You know you can't do anything as the pieces scatter around your feet, scratching you in the process; making blood drip from your fresh wounds. Knowing it was priceless and irreplaceable, you had lost it for good.
That's exactly how I felt like.
I knew. I knew the minute the doctor came out of the room with an impassive, exhausted expression on his frowning face. He pulled Sarah to the side and spoke to her in a hushed whisper. It only hit me when Sarah's countenance turned pale with mortification and despair.
Nana didn't make it. She died. She's gone.
I sat there, mixed emotions swirled around my head. My brain couldn't fathom all of these haphazard signals. I was enraged, remorseful, horrified, and anguished at the same time. My body didn't know if I wanted to yell, to cry, or to punch a wall. I mutely stared at the snow-white tiled floor, feeling detached from this sudden reality of everything.
My life is completely gone. It's game over.
"Juliet."
I forgot that Natalie was sitting beside me, squeezing the life out of my hand. I was too lost in my blurred thoughts to even care or notice. I saw Sarah wipe her tears away before walking towards us; trying to hide the weary, sorrowful expression for my sake.
"She's dead, I know." I spoke indifferently when she opened her quivering mouth to tell me the grim news. My voice sounded so bitter and callous, as if I wasn't the person who spoke those soul-shattering words.
"Oh, Jules." She drew me in a firm, comforting embrace. But I was unfazed, I didn't move, I didn't hug her back. My arms fell limp to my sides, too heavy to lift.
"I'll handle the child services, since you'll turn eighteen only in a couple of months. Don't worry sweetie, you'll stay with us as long as you want."
She wiped her stray tears away and flashed me a reassuring, sad smile. That made my weak heart tug painfully, the last thing I need right now was pitty. I felt my best friend's arm wrapping itself around my shoulder, giving me a sideway, tight hug.
"We'll get through this, you and me Jules. I'll be with you in every step of the way, and you better get used to it 'cause you're stuck with me." She tried to humor with a playful smile on her face. Not a second passed until she turned serious again.
"Hold on, okay? Don't give up on me. Just hold on."
Hold on to what? There was nothing for me to hold onto. There was nothing strong enough for me to hold. That rope of hope already gave away. I wanted to believe her. I wanted to find comfort in her words. I wanted to believe what she said was true. Unfortunately, she might be too late. I was in too deep, wandering around endlessly in pitch black.
Nana's gone. Nana's dead. What little speck of hope left died with her heart.
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I was only supposed to pack my things. I was only supposed to get in and get out. I was supposed to leave the past behind me as soon as I was done.
But when I stepped foot in that house, I saw red. Blood red.
I gripped the framed picture of my dead family and flung it forcefully. It made an aggressive contact with the wall and shattered, pieces of glass scattered around the room.
That's when hell broke loose.
It was as if something snapped, and I had no power over it. A restless beast released from its cage and ready to destroy everything in its reach. My mind was clogged with so much anger, so much pain, they drove me mad; to my breaking point.
I couldn't control the tears from falling, the harrowing sobs from escaping my trembling lips, and my incapacitated form from unleashing its anger to the furniture.
I grabbed Nana's favorite rocking chair and repeatedly slammed it against the book shelves which held her once precious books. They fell to the floor, torn into shreads. With every hit, I'd yell, angrily spilling the pain into the damned chair. I broke her favoured lamp beside the bed, shoving anything and everything to the ground so it would break just as how my life fell apart.
The chair eventually broke apart, and I threw what's left of it to the side. I stared at my shaking hands, wood splinters covered them; piercing my skin and making them throb achingly. But it didn't hurt, it felt numb. The pain that overpowered my heart was much worse, it didn't compare.
I was blinded with rage and contempt, the whole house was turned upside down; like a tornado came and wrecked the place. I was the destructive tornado, and I was unstoppable.
Life had tested me to see if I was able to push it through, to see if I was strong enough. It should mark me with a big, fat "F" because, clearly, I sucked at it. I wasn't good enough, I failed. I failed my parents, I failed Nana, and I failed life. I aced at failing.
I glanced up and saw my own reflection staring back at me. I wheezed from how much I was crying, little oxygen was passing through. My face wet from the tears and sweat. My heart pounding in my chest a mile per sec. My hair clung to my head because of the sweat; it was so hot in here, I was suffocating.
I couldn't stare at myself any longer. I couldn't look into the eyes of a failure, a worthless lowlife. I gritted my teeth and slammed my fist against the mirror, cracking it. Blood dripped from my wounds, slowly making its way to the floor beneath me; but I didn't even flinch.
The sight of blood put me at some kind of ease, it felt great feeling the pain; seeing it escape my injured hand. I found myself holding a sharp, silver object. It glistered seductively at me, tempting me to use it on my flesh; to release the agony.
Not once throughout my life I thought of self-harming, I always thought it was meaningless. If I cut, it wouldn't bring my parents back, it wouldn't do me any good. I never understood the people who self-harmed, so I couldn't judge. It just didn't make sense that people wanted to inflict pain on themselves.
But . . . I wanted to feel the pleasurable pain of it. I wanted this haunting suffering to end. I wanted to see my blood drip.
So I did.
I gently drew the bow against the strings, creating a beautiful symphony of intense emotions and red. I momentarily closed my eyes at the satisfying burn it left behind.
At first, nothing happened. But then huge droplets of red formed and stared to roll down my wrist, trickling to the white floor. It felt so good. The searing sensation put my tumultuous head at rest; my unquiet thoughts were finally peaceful.
I did it once, twice, and thrice; until I couldn't stop. A pleasing sigh escaped my mouth as I felt that heavy feeling slowly lifting up.
Finally.
Blood pooled around me, blood covered my clothes, and blood continuously fell like a drizzle. The room was spinning, black dots consumed my vision. I tried blinking them away, but they stayed. My breathing turned short and raspy, and my heartbeat slowed down. I felt I was floating with nothing holding me back.
I heard a faint cry, calling out my name. But I didn't turn back, I wasn't going to stop. I wanted to follow the light, it was so warm and welcoming, I just wanted to reach out and be free. I heard the desperate voice again, trying to yank me out of my demented insanity. The light was growing further and further.
No. Please come back.
It was no use, it didn't listen to me. The voice was growing louder, the light getting fainter. The darkness slowly engulfing me into its cold embrace.
Let me go. I want to head towards the light. Please, leave me to die.
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My heart sank to my stomach when I heard that dreadful, constant beeping sound. I pried my eyes open, progressively blinking to adjust my vision. My suspicions were confirmed when I noticed the boring white walls and the white sheets.
I was in the hospital.
I sighed irritatingly at the heart monitor, it was giving me a headache with its irksome beeping. I carefully sat up, wincing at the throbbing pain in my wrists. I stared down at my bandaged arms and hands in confusion. What? Why am I bandaged up?
Realization struck me when I remembered everything.
A huge lump formed in my throat as I stared blankly at the ceiling above me. I finally went batshit crazy, hadn't I? Or was I always like that and I finally set my psychotic self free? I won't be surprised if they administered me into a mental institution, given to the extent of damage I had caused to the house.
Or maybe they should lock me up in a cage.
So this is it? This is how I ended up? A useless being with shit to live for and an unstable state of mind? Is this what life wanted to test me for? What am I supposed to do now?
I heard voices just outside the door, so I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. I didn't want them to know I was awake, I didn't want to hear what they have to say. I didn't need to see their faces swimming with pity.
The door opened and the scent of rose filled the room. Footsteps approached me, and I heard the placing of the flower bouquet on the table next to me; the sound of the chair being dragged against the floor and had placed it to the side of the bed. The person hadn't said a word, they remained completely silent. I could feel a pair of eyes staring down at me, as if they knew I was about to wake up any second now.
"I know you're awake, Juliet." I sighed in defeat and pried my eyes open. There's no hiding from Ryan O'Connell, he's as observant as a hawk.
I couldn't meet the blonde's gaze, because I was ashamed. I was ashamed of how I reacted to the whole situation, they must think I'm a monster for what I had done.
"Where's Natalie?" I asked hoarsely, trying to break off the tensioned silence.
"I sent her back to her house to eat and shower, she hadn't moved from your side when she found out."
I threw my head back against the pillow and gritted my teeth, guilt slithering its way to my aching heart. Once again, I'm being selfish and not even one second I had thought of my best friend.
"Don't beat yourself up, Jules. You've been through a lot." I knew Ryan was being sincere, he wasn't the type to sugarcoat or lie for my comfort.
"How long was I out?"
"Six hours, give or take." I inhaled a deep breath and exhaled through my nose, trying to tame my racing thoughts. I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask, but I wasn't sure if I was ready to hear their answers.
We sat in still silence, with only the sound of the heart monitor filling in the gap, and I struggled to meet his gaze. I didn't know what I might see in his eyes; anger? Sadness? Disappointment?
"I felt like . . . I was floating," I blurted out. "It was weird, like an out-of-body experience. I thought it was going to be quick, but it wasn't, it felt like the essence of time was stretching beyond me. And I felt this tingly sensation, I didn't feel pain."
Talking about it made tears form in my eyes, slowly rolling down my face. A part of me wanted it to happen, I really did. Just because I wasn't thinking at that moment, doesn't mean I didn't want it happen. I've never felt so free as I did when I was on the verge of dying. I wanted that heavy feeling to go away, and it almost did. Almost. Until someone stopped me.
I wanted to die, it was the only thing I thought I had control over, and Ryan knew it.
"It's hard to go through what you're going through and expect to feel sane after, and that's okay. It'll be tough as hell but. . .with time, you'll be alright again."
"When is it ever the time to be okay after this whole ordeal?" I asked in frustration, my throat hurting from preventing the sobs from coming out.
"I'm so sick of this crap, I can't handle it anymore. I want to let go but I fucking can't! Death follows me everywhere so why can't I just be over with it too?"
By this point, I was crying. My emotions were all over the place, and I couldn't keep them bottled in. I felt a bit embarrassed to be crying in front of Ryan, he's never seen me cry before, but I couldn't care less right now. I appreciated that he let me admit the truth I've been harboring for years.
He kept quiet, letting me cry for a few moments until I could put myself together again. I was thankful to have Ryan as a close friend, he was among the few who understood how to deal with me. He was like the big brother I never had.
"There's more to life than this pain, Jules." I met his hazel brown eyes as he continued, "You are entitled to your anger, to your pain, and to your loss, but that also means you can remember them, love them, and live for them. For yourself." My lower lip quivered as his words washed over me.
A charming smile tugged at his lips as he chuckled lightly, "and maybe I might miss you if you left." That made me scoff at his ridiculousness, my tears forgotten.
"Puh-lease, you'll definitely miss me because I'm awesome." He rolled his eyes at my overconfidence.
"I think you're overselling yourself a bit." A mock gasp escaped my mouth, taking offense, while he merely grinned.
"You're so mean! I'm literally bed-ridden, in pain and agony." I stated dramatically, and he let out a snort.
"You should've joined the theatre club because that was one hell of a performance."
"I'm multi-faceted, unlike you. Though, It's a good thing you stayed with the sports team because that's the only thing you were good at." I countered the insult right back at him, and he threw me a dirty look.
"Alright smartass, shut it or I'm shoving a rose down your throat." Somehow, it prompted a laugh out of me. Count on Ryan to make me laugh in the oddest of times. It was nice to have a normal conversation, I haven't had one of those in a long while.
I reflected over his words. I understood what he meant, but it was hard to believe it. It couldn't be possible to live my life after all of the shit I went through, after the fuck ups. But I couldn't shake the feeling that his words might hold some truth; some hope.
Although, there was this question that had been nagging at me since Ryan and I started talking. I remember a voice calling out for me when I was about to . . . die and it was so familiar. I just can't put my finger on it. The voice sounded scared and desperate, and it terrified me how strong it was. A part of me was also angry at the person, because they didn't let me go when I wanted to be let go.
I guess you're not the only selfish person here.
"Who was it?" It was a vague, cryptic question, but Ryan knew what I meant. He stayed silent for a long time, and it began to worry me.
"Ryan, who was it?" I repeated in a frightened whisper. He opened his mouth to tell me but decided against it. He had some trouble telling me, and it scared me. Ryan was always straightforward. He didn't need to speak, though, his eyes said it all.
It can't be.
"Wait! She might not want to-"
That was Natalie's voice. Ryan stood up as the door swung open, and there he stood, in all of his mightiness.
Noah Stone.
My breath got caught in my throat when our eyes met. I could hear the heart monitor's beeping speed up a little, my heart was racing a mile a second.
Relief seemed to wash over his face when he saw that I was awake, but worry was still evident in his tired features. That's when I noticed the blood stains on his shirt and pants.
"Juliet, thank god you're okay." It was as if someone stabbed me in the gut and kept twisting the knife around when I heard him say my name.
"I'm glad you're-"
"Stop."
I didn't let him get near me, I didn't want him anywhere near me right now. My emotions were running wild, and they were hot with anger. He seemed a little taken aback, but attempted to reach out for me again.
"Lettie, I thought you were-"
"Stop!" He stopped walking towards me, a confused, pained expression on his face. From my peripheral vision, I saw Natalie and Ryan share a concerned look.
"I heard what happened to Nana, I'm so-"
"Just stop with the fucking act!"
I didn't want him here, I didn't want to see him, and sure as hell, I didn't want his fucking sympathy. He didn't truly care, it was only a façade. Rage had my heart in a harsh grip, and I was shaking from how much betrayal I felt.
"You're a selfish bastard, Noah Stone. You weren't here when I needed you, you were off to London, too busy to care." I spoke bitterly.
"I do care, Juliet-"
"The hell you do! You were feeding me lies, false promises. I fucking trusted you, I let you in. Apparently, you were rushing to get out." I held onto the bed sheets in a tight squeeze, trying to control the tears and the anguish.
"Do you know how empty I felt when you were gone? How lost I was? I was pathetic! I couldn't believe that I had the nerve to miss someone like you." He clutched his fists, his knuckles turning white.
"Words hurt, don't they? Not as much as it did when you told me you missed me." I spat venomously.
"I did miss you, so much-"
"Stop lying to me! You played me like I was in some kind of game, and it's game over! I'm tired of feeling helpless and scared, I'm tired of waiting! I'm through with this shit I got into with you! I've tortured myself just thinking about you." I did notice the speed my heart rate was going at, and so did the others.
"Juliet, please calm down. Don't strain yourself." Natalie spoke worriedly, gently holding my hand in her hers.
I didn't want to be calm, I wanted the heavy feeling to go away, I wanted to tell him the words that he needed to hear.
"I'm the biggest asshole in the world, I know. I wasn't there for you and I feel like shit about it. I promised to be by your side and- when I saw you on the ground with a pool of blood I- . . . I was so scared, I didn't want to lose you. You mean a lot to me-"
"I'm not yours to lose! I wanted to die. Why didn't you let me die?" Natalie let go of me in mortification, and Noah's face paled at my words. The beeping turned louder and faster, the room was filled with its deafening sound.
"Natalie! Call for help!" Ryan instructed as Natalie snapped from her daze and ran out of the room.
"You egotistical douchbag, I was right about you! You only think about yourself. You have no right to act sad or scared! You lost me when you went to London. I mean nothing to you!"
A doctor and a couple of nurses showed up, rushing to aid me. Or restrain me for that matter. "Her pulse's increasing rapidly, and her blood pressure is rising." The nurse informed the doctor.
"Miss Anderson, please calm down. Take in deep breaths." I ignored the doctor and glared hatefully at Noah.
"I want you out of my life." He shook, as if my words hurt him physically. His eyes darkened with desperation and guilt. Then I saw it, I saw a speck of it in his grey irises. Longing.
My mind snapped to that demented place again, I morfed into the vicious monster. I wanted to get up and punch his face, I wanted to badly, but the nurses held me back against the bed.
"I hate you! You hear me? I hate you! I'll always hate you. My life would be better off without you. Get out!"
One of the nurses grabbed a needle and shoved it into my wrist. I felt a sensation run up my arm and to the rest of my body, and I was unusually calm. The anger diminished into nothingness as I felt some kind of high. The white walls were spinning around me as my eyes begged me to close them.
Then the blackness welcomed me back again.
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School's over! So now I can finish this story (finally).