Will You Let Darkness Fall?

[Oli's Point of View]

“Come on, Vicky.” Mike mumbled, reaching his hand towards his older brother. “Let’s grab something.”
“I want to stay with Oli.” Vic whispered, stubbornly.
“Oli will still be here when we came back.” Mike assured, giving Vic a wide-eyed innocent look.
Vic nodded, getting up and following Mike out the door.
All I could comprehend were Mike’s words about me still being here. Damn it, I wouldn’t be leaving for a while.
“Unfortunately.” I groaned, frustrated with myself.
Vic mumbled to himself, but I just shrugged him off and let them leave. Leaving me alone with Josh, that is.
Glancing at him, I couldn’t help but ask. “No offense, but what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I was worried.”
Yeah, right.
Why would that little cunt give two shits about me? He was probably hoping I would die and he’d be here to see it.
“No, really. Why are you here?” I pressed. “I don’t believe you actually care about me or anything.”
“Well, I do.” he insisted.
“Even after mentioning I should kill myself?” I demanded, feeling tears fill the corners of my eyes.
“What?” he yelled, honestly surprised.
He promised he would never say something like that, no matter what the situation was or anything.
It left me silent, thinking about it.
Bringing my legs toward me, I placed the un-bandaged arm around them, hissing as the fresh cuts came in contact with a solid surface.
Josh was a cunt sometimes, but it was nice to find out he could actually care about people.
I mean, that’s why he was here right?
He actually cared enough to make sure I was alright, and not to celebrate my possible death.
Just thinking about it, pissed me off.
I could have fucking killed myself because I was so stupid and thoughtless. My anger clouded my judgment.
I would have been leaving behind so many friends and fans.
Fuck, that didn’t mean I was magically going to get better. I wasn’t having that breakthrough people have after a suicide attempt.
You know, where they realize they’re ecstatic about the fact they survived. I’m just not ready to die yet.
I wasn’t going to stop cutting and smile more and start eating.
Eating.
The thought made my stomach grumble, as I realized I hadn’t had a solid meal in almost four days.
It wasn’t that hard; several hours of traveling and getting ready for the first set of the tour was a hassle.
You weren’t really watching for who was eating and who wasn’t.
Despite my best attempts, I’m pretty sure Vic had figured out I had stopped eating again.
I don’t know if he originally knew.
He found out about the cutting last tour, and vowed to help me through it. The topic of eating had never been touched though.
He probably suspected, always making sure I was eating at least one thing before a show or something.
Fuck, he was worried about the lightheaded stumbles on stage and my denying food just now.
It just wasn’t fair.
He could eat whatever/whenever he wanted and wouldn’t gain any weight or even care.
He was almost thinner than me, but mine was self-inflicted.
There was a reason why I remained thin; a process to go through.
Sighing to myself, I thought of my best friend’s perfectly thin torso and the thigh gap between his legs.
“What?” Josh asked, hearing me sigh and scaring me out of my thoughts. I felt a dip on the mattress as he sat down.
“How does he manage to be so perfect?” I asked, absentmindedly drawing invisible patterns on the sheets.
“Who?” he asked, confused.
“Vic.” I whispered, thinking about how he was having a midnight snack with Mike and they’d both come up without a care about the calories.
Josh was still confused, mumbling under his breath.
Sighing again, I sat up and attempted to explain Vic’s perfection. “Have you looked at him?” I asked. “He’s absolutely perfect. He can eat whatever the fuck he wants and he stays really thin. Not to mention his hair always looks great.”
A few different emotions crossed his face before settling on a light smile.
Of course.
He was just going to agree with me and laugh about how pathetic I looked compared to Vic.
“Oli, your hair is nice too.” he complimented, shaking his head. “Not to mention you’re already thin as fuck.”
“No, I’m not.”
I could see the thoughts forming in his eyes, attempting to prove me wrong when there was a knock on the door.
It wasn’t Mike and Vic though, instead a woman walked in.
She was the “doctor” Vic had mentioned before, a lady I had met a few hours earlier when I was whisked into the ER.
Josh and the others had no idea, but I knew who she was.
She wasn’t a normal doctor, she was a psychiatrist. She was going to ask a bunch of stupid questions and confirm I was fucked up.
She was going to ask if these cut-
There was a standstill in my thoughts as I realized Josh was still in the room, and he would hear how fucked up I was.
He was going to hold these things against me and announce them to the world. He didn’t care.
He was only being nice because you don’t talk shit to someone laying in a hospital bed!
At the same time, I didn’t want him to leave.
Vic wasn’t back, and I didn’t want to be left alone in a room with someone I barely knew, talking about my personal life.
She greeted me, sitting down in a chair and faced me.
Awkwardly, Josh got up and started to leave the room, but I sent him pleading looks that forced him to stay.
“Can you tell me what happened?” she asked softly, even though she already knew what happened.
She just wanted me to talk about it.
“I…cut myself.” I whispered, thinking the response was safe. Josh knew it was a cut, he just didn’t know it was self-inflicted.
“Was this a suicide attempt?” she continued, trading from looking at me to looking at her clipboard.
“…no.” I murmured, hoping Josh wouldn’t assume anything.
He’d probably think it was a misunderstanding, but I was alright. I could explain that to him later.
Besides, it hadn’t been a suicide attempt.
“How do you feel, knowing you’re alive?” she pressed, intent on getting a thoughtful answer out of me.
I didn’t know how to answer.
On one hand, I wasn’t terribly happy. About what, I wasn’t sure.
I wasn’t upset that I had woken up, but upset that I had ever lived who I did. That I had to keep living like that.
Yet, there was a pang of sadness that I had awakened.
Either way, I couldn’t properly answer this question without letting on that something was wrong in my head.
“I don’t know.” I finally answered, hoping for the best.
Suddenly, Josh’s eyes snapped up and he walked towards us and scrutinized Dr. Wallace’s name badge.
His eyes widened in understanding when he read that word.
Psychiatrist.
Dr. Wallace had asked something about seeing my scars, but I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let him see.
I was a pathetic mess.
She tried again, but I couldn’t answer. I was tongue-tied, and my hands were beginning to shake.
I could feel my palms sweat and the room suddenly flared in temperature.
Breathe, I told myself.
There was a pressure on my hand, as Josh started rubbing his thumb against my palm in an effort of comfort.
I tried to focus on that.
She asked about the panic attacks, and I answered honestly. There wasn’t a point in hiding it right now.
Besides, I couldn’t handle them anymore.
They were terrifying and controlling, and I just didn’t want to put up a fight against them.
She left, muttering something about getting anti-anxiety medication.
Once again, I was left alone with Josh.
He didn’t laugh, instead wrapping his arms around me and whispering in my ear.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” he promised, rubbing my back.
I had to admit, it was really nice and comforting. I was having an easier calming myself down.
The only other person who could stop an anxiety attack that quickly, was Vic.
Sitting down beside me, he continued to whisper assuring words and just let my weight lean against him.
When I had calmed down, he picked up my hand and toyed with the sleeve for a second in thought.
“You know, people don’t seem to realize that you need to be in a lot of emotional pain to intentionally hurt yourself.” he murmured, pushing the sleeve up.
He exposed the dozens of thick red lines that would eventually scar into a dark purple color and slowly fade to white.
He exposed the light brown marks from past moments.
“Wh-what.” I choked, afraid of what he would say but curious enough to let him speak about it.
“People don’t hurt themselves for the hell of it.” he mused. “No one’s that fucked up that they’ll wake up one morning and think, ‘Hmm, I think I’m going to tear my skin apart for kicks’ and just do it.
There’s a reason behind the madness. There’s also a bit of madness behind the reason, but hey, we’re not all sane.”
I kept silent, staring at my wrist.
I was afraid of catching the possibly judgmental look on his face.
“All I’m wondering about is what the reason behind your madness is?” he asked lightly, joking on the madness part.
“I…” I trailed off, thinking.
The door opened, and Dr. Wallace walked back with another nurse behind her.
He was tall, with stubble and a warm smile.
“Hello, Oli.” he greeted, shortening my name on his own. “I’m Brendon, and I’ve been assigned your wing.”
I nodded, my lips attempting to smile.
“Amelia’s been telling me you were having a panic attack when you were conversing. How often does that happen?”
“Quite a bit.” I whispered, reminding myself to stay honest. “Sometimes because there’s too many people and sometimes, I don’t know why.”
I could barely force the words out of my throat, but I couldn’t live with it for any longer. I needed help on something.
“Well, we’ve been talking and it sounds like a panic disorder.” Brendon smiled. “Dr. Wallace wants to ask you a few more things to be sure, but we’re going to start with a dose of Alprazolam and see how it goes. If you react well with it, we’ll prescribe you a daily dose of Xanax.”
I nodded.
He handed me a small white tablet and a plastic cup of water, encouraging me to take it.
I had never taken medication for any mental health reason, so I was curious about how it would work.
Brendon left, with a reminder that I could ask for him if I needed anything.
Dr. Wallace sat back down, asking a few more questions. This time, they were more anxiety-based, and I could answer a lot easily.
Of course, it helped that Josh was still sitting with me.
She came back to the topic of self-harming and I could feel my heartbeat spike up for a moment.
“Just say what seems right.” Josh whispered, a sad smile perched on his lips.
“I don’t know.” I mumbled, talking more to Josh than anyone. Dr. Wallace was just listening, content with the how I was going about this.
“I was upset, with myself, with you, with everyone. I thought I wasn’t good enough to be around. I thought people didn’t like me. I couldn’t figure out what to do, and I felt like I couldn’t turn to anyone.
I felt so lost and alone, though I know there are people who care about me. I couldn’t help but think I was a burden to them.
I didn’t want to kill myself.” I assured. “I just wanted to let all the emotions out, and that was the only solution I could see. I wasn’t thinking, and it was going too far and I did all of this.”
Lifting up my arm, I acknowledged the bandage. “I’ve realized the stupid mistake I made, how I could have easily killed myself and left all these people behind without a word. Yet, I don’t think it was a mistake to cut in the first place. It felt right, like I deserved it and like it helped. I just didn’t want to off myself.” I finished slowly.
Dr. Wallace nodded, scribbling a few things.
“Do you think you’re depressed?” she asked, seriously. “Don’t think about it as a disease or something wrong with you. I just want an honest answer, do you think you’re depressed?”
“I…” I trailed off, glancing at Josh. “I think I might be, but I couldn’t say why. There’s nothing wrong with my life. I have friends and I’m in a touring band with a lot of fans. We’ve released our second album and it’s going well. I didn’t have any problems growing up, aside from a few bullying assholes.”
“Well, depression doesn’t always have a back story. Some people can grow up with abusive parents and they won’t end up depressed. Others will live comfortably and happily, but they can still suffer from depression. It’s a chemical imbalance that can affect anybody. There aren’t any privileges when it comes to mental health, it can affect anyone.” she explained.
I nodded, it made sense.
“What I’m also trying to say is, just because you have a mental disorder, it doesn’t make you different. It doesn’t make you any less of a person. There are so many stereotypes about “insanity” and people take it lightly. They joke about it, and those who actually suffer feel belittled. They feel like they can’t get help because they’ll be labeled as crazy by society, but that isn’t the case. You’re doing yourself good by getting help you deserve to help.
If you’d like, I want to put you on fluoxetine. It’s an antidepressant that I’m sure will help you a lot. It helps with that chemical imbalance I was talking about. Are you okay with taking it?”
“Yes.” I answered.
At the very least, I wanted to give it a try.
“How is the Xanax treating you?” she asked, glancing at me.
“I think I like it.” I answered, wondering if this sense of peace was coming from the medication, Josh, or the fact that I had gotten comfortable with Dr. Wallace.
Perhaps it was a combination of all three.
“Would you be alright also taking it? You’d take both of them every morning for a number of weeks.”
Again, I nodded.
“Since you’re in a touring band, I could schedule another appointment in two weeks with a different doctor. Someone close to the city you’ll be in then?” she asked.
“We’d be in Florida then.” Josh answered, looking from the tour dates listed on his cell phone.
“I could fax these there.” she continued, picking up the notes she’d taken. “And someone else could take it from there.”
“No.” I mumbled, without hesitation. I had gotten comfortable with her, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone else.
“Are you wanting to come back here then?” she asked, understanding clear in her tone.
“Yes.”
“It would have to be either the 22nd or the 29th of October.” Vic called out, startling me a bit.
He was leaning against the door way, just listening.
“Those are the days we have off in two weeks.” he continued, that same smile perched on his lips, just like everyone else.
“Alright, I’ll set up an appointment for the late afternoon.” she smiled, standing up. “Thank you for actually talking to me, Oli. It was nice getting to know you and learning that you do want help.
Don’t worry, things will get better for you.”
“Thank you.” I mumbled.
“Alright, I’m going to talk to Brendon and Dr. May.” she excused herself. “You’ll probably be allowed to leave in the morning. Have a good night.”
“Night.” we called out.
She left and Vic sauntered into the room.
“How long have you been standing there?” I asked, feeling a blush work its way up my cheeks as I thought of Josh holding me.
“For a good twenty minutes, actually.” he shrugged, sitting down.
“Where’s Mike?” Josh asked.
“We saw that you were talking with Dr. Wallace and he went to wait in the, surprise, waiting room.” Vic laughed slightly.
“Oh.”
“Do you want me to get him?” he asked, choosing to ignore the way Josh and I were sitting.
“Please.” Josh answered for me. “I don’t think it would very nice to leave him all by himself and bored.”
“Sure.”
When Vic left, Josh moved so he was facing me.
“Thanks.” he murmured, leaning closer.
“What?”
“For just talking. For letting someone know there’s something wrong and actually accepting the help. For letting me stay and seeing a new aspect about you.”
“I thought you hated me.” I mumbled bitterly.
“I didn’t hate you.” he assured. “Frustrated as fuck, pissed off, and drunk…but not hate. I could never hate someone with such an adorable face.
“What.”
“God, you’re cute.” he giggled, confusing me.
There really was more than one aspect to a person, wasn’t there? You had to give people a second chance sometimes.
“Promise you won’t do that anymore?” he asked.
“What?”
Fuck, my vocabulary was strong today, wasn’t it?
“Cutting, silly.” he kissed my forehead. “I know you’re trying to help yourself, but I also know it can be hard to stop. I understand the need to hurt yourself in order to control an aspect of your life.”
“What do you mean you under-?”
He cut me off, pressing his lips against mine and shushing my statement with a soft and delicate kiss.