suicide

The wind blows chillingly from the frozen window, forcing us to take shelter warmer. I tried to wrap myself in a blanket, but it was all in vain. Bouncing up because he was too stretched, he exposed my legs and they ended up in the wild cold. I had to jump up to avoid getting chills. His eyes treacherously refused to open, and it was difficult to move in general. I glanced at my watch, wondering how I could have overslept for so long. And Joseph was still missing. Strange. The oppressive feeling grew, reminding me of myself. I'm completely mired in this depressive state, it's no good. But weakness kills. I hate that Joseph has to keep me in any kind of adequate condition. I feel terrible shame and awkwardness. I hate myself. I don't deserve all this.

Gathering my strength, I get to my feet and almost fall. I'm weak. The food doesn't go down my throat at all. I can only swallow something in the presence of Joseph, and then only because I am ashamed of my impotence in front of him. With small steps, I trudged into the bathroom, leaning against the walls. My helplessness was felt more strongly today than ever before.

My eyes stared into the mirror, completely exposing my furious fatigue and rumpled face. I looked at my unwashed hair, and then my gaze fell on the cuts on my neck. They heal with difficulty. That's because I don't really eat and my body actively reminds me of it. Let it rot. I don't deserve all the love and care I receive. 

After rinsing with cold water, I tried to comb my hair, but it tangled my hair even more. I remembered seeing Joseph hugging some guy yesterday. I wanted to die. I wanted to scream and cry, because I was no longer his special one. Jose warned me that there couldn't be anything serious between us. I understood this perfectly well, but I still didn't distance myself from him. Prick. Just an idiot.

Tears began to fall from his already exhausted eyes. I don't want to live like this. I can't take it anymore. Everything in my life is not going according to plan, everything is going to hell. The body sank down, it was wildly difficult to stand on my feet. I curled up on the floor, unable to hold back my sobs. The sounds echoed off the bathroom walls, piercing my ears. My stomach was cramping with wild pain, and I twisted even more, trying to ease my suffering, but it didn't help. What a helpless bitch. 

I remembered the pills in the cupboard. A couple of weeks ago, a fleeting thought made me find out their incompatibility. Joseph had the right ones. I don't know where they came from, but they were. I rolled over onto my stomach with difficulty and put my hands on the glossy floor. I almost slipped off, but I managed to get up and caught on the sink. A deep exhale, after which the pain in my stomach manifested itself again. The tears were still falling, but fainter. My legs wouldn't obey me, but they were able to carry me to the living room, where the knife was hidden. I could barely find it under the upholstery of the old sofa and fished it out. Rusty in places, covered with several layers of dried blood. I headed back to the bathroom. It was still hard and overcoming the pain, but I was able to walk.

My hand reached out to the medicine cabinet and found the right blisters. One to two. I've memorized the proportions. Weak fingers squeezed out the right amount of pills. The nasty lump in my throat wouldn't go away. The silence was oppressive and created even more tension. She was also the key to strengthening bad thoughts.

Jennifer. I'm a freak. It's been so long since I've smelled you that I've forgotten. But, in my opinion, he smelled of something sweet. Maybe it was vanilla. 

The pills flew into his mouth and were barely swallowed. "We need to get into the bathroom so as not to smear everything here." After this thought, the body sank into a cold container. I got goosebumps, but there was no time to hesitate. As usual, the blade was bared with a hideous creak. 

One. Two. 

The pain was faint, but it was making itself felt. 

Dear Jenny. I'm still connected to you, in a frenzy of love, I really tried, even though it doesn't justify my fucking actions in any way. Enough of this stuff.

My head felt fuzzy, and my stomach was churning. I wanted to throw up my guts, but I held on. The hands pressed harder.

Three. Four. Five. 

My happy moments with Jen flashed before my face, gradually giving way to Joseph. I could no longer keep my eyes open and lowered my eyelids. A sudden weakness rolled over and plunged into darkness.

***

I walked home, worried about Anthony. It sucks that I took so long, I hope this guy didn't cause any trouble. He went to bed in the early morning because of self-flagellation and, unfortunately, my help did not affect him in any way. Okay, I won't think about the bad. I don't believe he's going to do anything to himself. I'll make this fool happy, today I'm bringing him some sweet pies, he seems to like them.

"I can't afford to date a minor. He's too young. I'm also afraid of hurting him, knowing his nature. But I can't refuse physical contact either. That's why I told him not to think we were serious. Nevertheless, I still love him, and I can't hide it. This depressive idiot was able to melt my heart. I hope Jenny heals him a little bit."

His feet crossed the threshold of his home, letting the sparkling snow inside, but the door quickly slammed shut. Second floor. The keys turn, and I enter the apartment. The room is so quiet that my stomach involuntarily pulls from the tension. I take a deep breath and drawl:

—Anthony! —Crawl out from under the covers, you fool. 

There was no response, as well as the creaking of the sofa on which he was sleeping. 

My backpack immediately fell to the floor, and I ran without taking off my clothes to look around the rooms. Living room. Kitchen. Balcony. Empty. That leaves the bathroom. 

The handle bends down with a creak, and I see a disgusting picture. The tub had not saved him, and blood was dripping from his dangling arm onto the floor. It wasn't in my nature to cry, but I couldn't stand it and the hot tears began to flow on their own.

— Piece of an idiot… What did you do… Why... — the trembling quiet voice was hoarse and did not obey, the words were cut off.

Having gathered myself with difficulty, I immediately grabbed the phone and dialed an ambulance. I remember everything else in a daze. Doctors, stretchers, my tears and muffled sobs. For the first time in my life, I was so badly injured. They wouldn't let me into his room. Unfortunately, I am not his husband or relative. Shit.

The next morning, I went to talk to Jennifer. The guilt consumed me, as did my selfishness. I felt disgusting. I haven't eaten anything since last night and could hardly sleep, because they didn't even give me a report on his condition. They just shrugged their shoulders and escorted me out of the hospital. It hurts terribly.

I went up to the right door and rang the bell. It was early, but I hoped she was awake. I was really lucky. There was a noise outside the door, and it opened softly. When she saw my condition, she was at a loss. No one had ever seen me so broken before. I shook my head, asking to be let inside. Jenny obediently gave me a passageway, waited until I entered, and clicked the lock.

— Now tell me what's going on. By the look of you... the situation is shitty. — the girl immediately started asking questions, because she was really worried. 

— Anthony." He's...—his voice trembled treacherously, because yesterday's picture came back to his face, — In general, he's in intensive care. 

Her eyes instantly widened and her gaze stared at me piercingly. This went on for about 10 seconds.

—Oh, really... is he... oh...— she looked at everything around her, her face betraying obvious tension.

I exhaled heavily, feeling the tension in my chest and leaned against the wall. 

— It would be good to go to the hospital now. I do not even know what condition he is in. Besides,— I jerked my head in her direction, trying to swallow the nasty lump in my throat, — You should finally talk if he's... alive.

I do not know how to feel, but I had to push these idiots in the end. Right now, I just hope he's okay, the rest can be sorted out.

 Together we fly out of the apartment and head to Enu. The heart does not calm down, each of its beats gives off a measured sound in the chest, leaving unpleasant sensations.

 Unable to face him, I sent Jenny alone. As soon as the door to the ward slammed shut, it was as if all the weight had fallen on me. I was crying like a jerk. Pathetic, blaming myself endlessly, I sobbed, wiping my tears with my hands. I couldn't help him. Thinking only of myself, I completely forgot about how hard he endures everything. Please forgive me, En.

***

He was transferred from the intensive care unit to a simple solitary. That's why I was allowed to come here, albeit with a scandal. His gaze swept across the room, trying to find the guy. Only when I saw a familiar silhouette did I rush towards it. There were various tubes and ivs around the bed, which made my skin crawl uncomfortably. I knelt down and grabbed his hand. 

— Idiot, why... Why did you do that… Why didn't you talk to me, just why..." I trembled, burying my face in his palm. The lump in my throat was constricting to the point of suffocation, which made it difficult to speak. 

"I'm sorry. — He said briefly. Ashamed, En looked away from the window, fighting the urge to cry the same way. 

I kept sobbing and clutching his hand. The sea of emotions that had been accumulating for so long poured out. In a frenzy of joy that he was still with me, I was ready to shower him with kisses and reproaches at the same time. But it felt incredibly painful. 

The guy's hand rested on my head and gently rhythmically squeezed, stroking.

"Anthony..." she wanted to address him, but she burst into tears even more. His hands reflexively clutched at the sheets. I didn't know how to deal with my emotions. The desires changed one by one, as did the words in my head. Everything is mixed. Wrong. What should I tell him? I'm godlessly angry at him, but I can't do this. I miss. I still love you. 

I pull away from his thin hand and sit on the edge of the bed. The tears are still falling, but not so much anymore. A deep exhale makes me come to my senses. I kiss his cheeks with trembling lips, barely restraining myself from breaking down again. 

— En... Please… Why did you do that? Answer me. I stare at him and wait for an answer.

— Yes, because I was afraid of losing you!! I know I'm a complete idiot. I saw that you were trying to be joyful for everyone in the group. I knew you were sick too. I knew I should talk. I tried. But I'm a weak nobody and I couldn't. You deserve more.… 

— Stop it. Wait, right now. — I abruptly cut off the guy's monologue and he was taken aback. 

The tears flowed with a new wave. Where did I get so many of them?

"You're hurting me, Anthony. It hurts when you say that. Let's just admit that we both behaved incorrectly. I was angry at you and didn't want to talk, but I was bitter and had no one to vent to. I paused, taking a deep breath.

 The lump in my throat choked me and prevented me from speaking normally.

—I'm sorry.... I really have to apologize for behaving this way.… I accept your words and feelings. The words came out, punctuated by sobs. 

Anthony got up and sat on the bed, hissing from the pain in his arms and stomach. His hand rested on my back and gently stroked up and down.

— I was very afraid of losing you. I prayed on the way here that you'd stay alive. I even had a fight with the doctors, just to let them come to you.… And Joseph... feels terrible. I've never seen him so broken in my life, not once.… 

— Jen, — En cut off the girl, grabbing her shoulder.

I looked straight into his face, baring his hideously tearful face. The guy's hand moved from his back to his cold cheek, wiping away the tracks of tears. 

— Let's go to a therapist,— I abruptly continued to speak.

Anthony is silent. Long. He looks out the window, where the gray winter sky is behind the glass. Then his head falls onto my shoulder, heavily, as if it took all his strength to hold it up straight.

— Not now, Jen,—he says softly. The voice is hoarse, broken, and alien. — I can't right now. I don't even know how I... — he stammers, swallows.

—Just let me... come to my senses. At least learn to breathe again.

I want to object. To say that it is necessary right now, that it is impossible to postpone, that later it will be too late. But the words stick in my throat. Because I look at him and I see that he's not arguing. He doesn't say no. He's just so tired that even resisting requires too much strength.

—Okay, —I whisper. — Okay. I'll wait.

He doesn't answer. He just sits there, leaning against me, and stares at one point. I can feel his breathing getting steadier, deeper. I don't know if he falls asleep or just goes somewhere where there is neither this ward, nor me, nor psychologists.

I'm sitting next to you. I stroke his head, his tangled hair. Someone is passing in the hallway, ivs are ringing, nurses are talking.

He's silent.

I'm silent.

And in this silence there is everything that we have not said. And fear. And hope. And a complete misunderstanding of what will happen tomorrow.

But he's here. He's breathing. He's alive.

And everything else comes later.