Sundays Are My Suicide Days

It was fucking raining again. It was Friday night and I had a migraine and my boyfriend was leaving for three months on Sunday morning and I wanted to be fucking dead.

So I was lying curled up on Alex's side of the bed with the blinds closed trying to sleep. I couldn't sleep, though, knowing that Alex would be home from rehearsal in a matter of minutes. I didn't want to miss a second of the time I had left with my boyfriend before he left on tour at 4 AM on Sunday.

So instead, I sat up and grabbed my notebook so that I could try to write as I listened to the soft pitter patter of rain on the roof.

I've got a migraine
And my pain will range from up, down and sideways

Although it hurt, I thought hard about the next lines.

Thank God it's Friday
'Cause Fridays will always be better than Sundays
Cause Sundays are my suicide days

Surely, Alex knew this. I'd told him a million times. Yes, I always wanted to die, but I especially wanted to die on Sundays. He knew it. Why was he leaving on a goddamned Sunday? Other than Josh, he was all I had, and Josh spent Sundays in New York with Debby.

I don't know why they always seem so dismal.

Frustrated after a few seconds that I couldn't think of anything, I got up and tore open the blinds. For a moment, I just stood by the window and stared outside before it came to me and I rushed back to the bed with a batman bedspread that I shared with the boy I loved.

Thunderstorms, clouds, snow, and a slight drizzle.

Almost as if on cue, there was a loud crack of thunder. My eyes scanned the room for inspiration, finally landing on the box of letters on my nightstand that Alex had written me in case I got lonely while he toured. Just seeing them made me want to overdose on the Xanax Alex kept in the medicine cabinet to remedy his anxiety.

Whether it's the weather or the letters by my bed
Sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head

Let it be said what the headache represents it's me defending in suspense
It's me suspended in a defenseless test
Being tested by a ruthless examiner
Best represented best by my depressing thoughts

I was stuck. An old music teacher of mine told me once that writer's block didn't exist unless we were pressured by time.

I do not have writer's block
My writer just hates the clock

I decided to leave it for now, instead becoming ready to collapse from exhaustion. I lay down, but I couldn't sleep because my head was too full of incomprehensible thoughts.

After twenty minutes, I sighed and sat back up, turning on the lamp and grabbing my notebook again.

It will not let me sleep, I guess
So sleep when I'm dead
Sometimes death seems better
Than the migraine in my head

That was when I started crying, which turned into loud sobs in a matter of seconds. God fuck. Sometimes I just felt so alone.

Am I the only one I know
Waging my wars behind my face and above my throat?

No one even likes you, Tyler. Alex doesn't love you. That's why he's leaving, and you'll be alone.

Shadows will scream that I'm alone
But I know I've made it this far, kid

I sighed and got up. I tried to put on a strong front, but the truth was that I really wanted to die most of the time, and I wasn't strong enough to convince myself against it right now. I headed to the kitchen to find a knife, and then I locked myself in the bathroom.

Hey, man. How are you holding up?

I groaned audibly at the text from Josh.

I'm fine, fuck off.

Alex's POV

I was just racking my guitar when Josh texted me.

I think there's something wrong with Ty. He's being really short with me.

Thanks, Dun. I'm just about to head home.

I rushed home as quickly as I could without crashing on the rain soaked road. I tried to pay as much attention as possible while I was mesmerized by every loud roll of thunder and dazzling flash of lightning. Something about a thunderstorm was always eerie to me; it gave me an unsettling feeling in my stomach. Maybe that's why I started driving about twenty miles per hour over the speed limit to get back to my boyfriend.

"Ty!" I called into the apartment, shutting the door behind me and dropping my keys on the counter. "Where are you, baby? Josh texted me!"

I didn't get a response, but instead heard muffled sobs from the bathroom. Oh, shit.

"Babe?" I called, rushing to the door and trying to open it. It was locked. Fuck. "Ty, baby, let me in."

"No, Lex, go away," he sobbed, and now I was panicking.

"I'll pick the lock if you don't let me in."

Tyler made no move to open the door.

Finding a bobby pin in an apartment shared by two grown men proved difficult, but I finally found one and mentally thanked Cass and her forgetful tendencies.

"Baby, I'm coming in," I said as I pushed the bobby pin through the tiny hole in the doorknob and jimmied the lock open.

The sight I was met with was horrifying by any standards. My beautiful boyfriend, the light of my life, was sitting against the bathtub with a knife to his wrist, making several deep incisions on his forearm.

He was too transfixed by the blood oozing from the cuts to notice me as a pulled a roll of gauze from the cabinet and knelt by his side. Gently, so as not to startle him, I took the kitchen knife from his hands. I could hear and feel the sobs that wracked his small body as I wrapped the cuts tightly in gauze. The sight before me brought inevitable tears to my own eyes. I'd known before that Tyler was suicidal, but the glistening tracks on his red cheeks made it really hit home. Ty, the most amazing person in my life, wanted to die. He'd tried to take his own life.

The thought alone drew a terribly strangled sob from deep in my throat. Soon enough, I couldn't stop more tears from coming. I was breaking down in a time when I needed to show Tyler that I could be the strong one. I hugged him close, and he buried his tear-soaked face in my chest.

"Baby," I sobbed, choking on the word. "Why would you do this?"

"I-I...I...'Lex," he said breathlessly. "Y-You're leaving me on Sunday."

"No, not after this, baby. I'll put it off. I want you to be happy. I'll call the guys right now."

"No, don't do that. The boys are gonna hate me."

"The boys could never hate you, baby," I said softly. "You have to promise you can be okay. I can't lose you, Ty. I love you too much."

"I know, angel," Tyler sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking. I love you, too."

"Don't beat yourself up, okay, baby?" I said. "This won't just go away overnight. There are gonna be bad days no matter how good life is. I promise that I'll always be there. Even if I'm on tour, you can come visit whenever you want."

"Yeah, you're right. I love you so much, 'Lex."

"Come on," I said, helping him up and leading him to the bedroom. "I'm gonna go call Jack. I'll be right back, baby."

"Will you sing to me, angel?" Tyler asked when I came back into our bedroom.

"Of course, sweetheart," I agreed, grabbing my guitar and perching on the edge of the bed.

"Will you play Therapy?"

I nodded and began to strum.

"My ship went down in a sea of sound. When I woke up alone, I had everything..."

"I love you, Ty," I whispered, planting a gentle kiss on his neck. "Sweet dreams, baby."