Sorrow Swallows My Screams
Chapter Two
Chapter Two:
Zacky’s POV:
My eyes fluttered open, and I squinted before shutting them tightly again. The bright lights were too much for my eyes. I didn’t like bright lights when I first woke up, it was so hard on the eyes. I opened my eyes again, forcing them to remain open. Then it hit me.
I’m still alive.
But I don’t want to be alive. I want to be dead. That was the whole point of jumping off the bridge.
“Fuck,” I mumbled under my breath, as my eyes looked pointlessly around the room. It was a hospital, that was obvious. As my eyes wandered further, I got quite a shock when I saw a stranger, obviously not a member of the hospital staff, sitting in the chair by my bed. I could feel my heart beat faster. Who the fuck was this guy?
“W-who are you?” I stammered nervously. My hands found each other and rested on top of my blankets. My fingers entwined with one another, like they always seem to do when I’m nervous. Everyone has nervous habits, right?
“Hi, I’m Brian. Brian Haner Junior. Do you remember what happened?” He replied, seeming confident and calm.
“How long have I been out for?” I asked, ignoring his question. I didn’t know him, I didn’t have to answer his question. I knew perfectly well what had happened.
“Two weeks,” He said quietly. With his voice quieter, it made me feel a bit calmer and more relaxed. “Do you remember what happened?”
“Everything until I hit the water,” I said. All of this reminded me of Mikey. He was my last thought, stands to reason he would return to me now. He was pretty much always on my mind, even more than before he… you know. Oh my god. I missed our anniversary. Sure, I planned on missing it, but I was meant to miss it because I was dead, not because I’d tried to commit suicide but failed. Geez, I can’t even fucking commit suicide right.
“I was swimming, that night, in the river below the bridge. I do that sometimes, go for late night swims when I can’t sleep or I just have to get out of the house. It was raining, and I was cold, about to get out, in fact, I was swimming towards the shore when there was this big splash from behind me. I turned and swam towards it, I knew something had fallen from above. No, not from heaven, from the bridge. I dived down a little and reached out, feeling skin. I grabbed a limb, you’re arm, I think, and pulled you up to the surface. I dragged you to shore, and checked your pulse. You were still breathing, but you were unconscious. I called 911, and they took you to the hospital, for obvious reasons,” Brian explained. He didn’t look me right in the eye, perhaps because he didn’t want to make me feel uncomfortable at all, or perhaps because he felt uncomfortable looking at me. “What were you doing on the bridge?”
“I-I didn’t want to c-come b-back,” I choked out. I touched a hand to my face, feeling liquid. Tears.
“You tried to kill yourself, didn’t you?” He asked, his voice deathly quiet. I nodded weakly, feeling ashamed of myself for two main reasons, one: He didn’t seem to take that very well, and two: I failed to kill myself and I was still stuck in this shitty world.
My parents walked into the room then, and Brian and I went quiet. Mum was talking to me in a high pitched, happy voice, glad I was awake. Dad just stood in the corner, muttering things under his breath. Brian got up from the chair, and it squeaked on the shiny, clean floors.
“I’ll give you three some privacy, now,” Brian said, walking to the door. He stopped there, then added, “If you ever need someone to talk to, call me.”
He left. He left me alone with my parents. I noticed a serviette from the hospital café sitting on the bedside table, some numbers written on it in a messy scribble, so messy that I could barely make out the numbers. But I could. That was all that mattered.
While I was a little intimidated by him, for some reason, it was good to know that that didn’t have to be the last time I ever saw him.
For the next hour or so I was flooded with questions from my parents, mainly my mother. Only my mother. My father remained in the corner at first, but after about ten minutes took up the chair near where he had been standing.
For the whole hour, he was muttering things to himself, under his breath. Probably about me. Saying what a fuck up I was. But hey, I already knew that.
I ended up telling them - not that dad was listening - that I’d gone for a late night walk, to clear my head, and I’d ended up at the old bridge. I’d been peering over when I lost my balance and fell.
What, I wasn’t going to tell them that I tried to kill myself. Do you know what they’d do to me? They’d lock me up in my room all day, no sharp objects or anything that I could use to kill myself. They’d send me to a shrink. You know the ones, they say it’s a confidential conversation, but right after you’ve left they start blabbing everything you told them to your parents? Yep, one of them, and then they’d lock me up in a mental institution so they didn’t have to deal with me.
I could see it now. So that’s why I decided to lie. It’s not like they’d ever find out. Unless Brian told them… but even though I’d only known him since today, I was pretty sure he wasn’t the kind of guy to do what the shrinks do. He just didn’t look like he fitted that profile.
Mum told me he’d been here every day to visit me. Why? I have no idea. Maybe it’s because he rescued me (even though I didn’t want to be rescued, but hey, he didn’t know that) and he wanted to see how I was doing, if I’d woken up yet, etc.
When I get out of here, I’m definitely going to call him. Maybe he really does care enough to talk to me. No one had cared to talk to me since Mikey first did, a little over a year ago. How I miss Mikey. But maybe, just maybe, I can have a friend. Maybe Brian can be that friend.
Fuck, I still want to die though.
Zacky’s POV:
My eyes fluttered open, and I squinted before shutting them tightly again. The bright lights were too much for my eyes. I didn’t like bright lights when I first woke up, it was so hard on the eyes. I opened my eyes again, forcing them to remain open. Then it hit me.
I’m still alive.
But I don’t want to be alive. I want to be dead. That was the whole point of jumping off the bridge.
“Fuck,” I mumbled under my breath, as my eyes looked pointlessly around the room. It was a hospital, that was obvious. As my eyes wandered further, I got quite a shock when I saw a stranger, obviously not a member of the hospital staff, sitting in the chair by my bed. I could feel my heart beat faster. Who the fuck was this guy?
“W-who are you?” I stammered nervously. My hands found each other and rested on top of my blankets. My fingers entwined with one another, like they always seem to do when I’m nervous. Everyone has nervous habits, right?
“Hi, I’m Brian. Brian Haner Junior. Do you remember what happened?” He replied, seeming confident and calm.
“How long have I been out for?” I asked, ignoring his question. I didn’t know him, I didn’t have to answer his question. I knew perfectly well what had happened.
“Two weeks,” He said quietly. With his voice quieter, it made me feel a bit calmer and more relaxed. “Do you remember what happened?”
“Everything until I hit the water,” I said. All of this reminded me of Mikey. He was my last thought, stands to reason he would return to me now. He was pretty much always on my mind, even more than before he… you know. Oh my god. I missed our anniversary. Sure, I planned on missing it, but I was meant to miss it because I was dead, not because I’d tried to commit suicide but failed. Geez, I can’t even fucking commit suicide right.
“I was swimming, that night, in the river below the bridge. I do that sometimes, go for late night swims when I can’t sleep or I just have to get out of the house. It was raining, and I was cold, about to get out, in fact, I was swimming towards the shore when there was this big splash from behind me. I turned and swam towards it, I knew something had fallen from above. No, not from heaven, from the bridge. I dived down a little and reached out, feeling skin. I grabbed a limb, you’re arm, I think, and pulled you up to the surface. I dragged you to shore, and checked your pulse. You were still breathing, but you were unconscious. I called 911, and they took you to the hospital, for obvious reasons,” Brian explained. He didn’t look me right in the eye, perhaps because he didn’t want to make me feel uncomfortable at all, or perhaps because he felt uncomfortable looking at me. “What were you doing on the bridge?”
“I-I didn’t want to c-come b-back,” I choked out. I touched a hand to my face, feeling liquid. Tears.
“You tried to kill yourself, didn’t you?” He asked, his voice deathly quiet. I nodded weakly, feeling ashamed of myself for two main reasons, one: He didn’t seem to take that very well, and two: I failed to kill myself and I was still stuck in this shitty world.
My parents walked into the room then, and Brian and I went quiet. Mum was talking to me in a high pitched, happy voice, glad I was awake. Dad just stood in the corner, muttering things under his breath. Brian got up from the chair, and it squeaked on the shiny, clean floors.
“I’ll give you three some privacy, now,” Brian said, walking to the door. He stopped there, then added, “If you ever need someone to talk to, call me.”
He left. He left me alone with my parents. I noticed a serviette from the hospital café sitting on the bedside table, some numbers written on it in a messy scribble, so messy that I could barely make out the numbers. But I could. That was all that mattered.
While I was a little intimidated by him, for some reason, it was good to know that that didn’t have to be the last time I ever saw him.
For the next hour or so I was flooded with questions from my parents, mainly my mother. Only my mother. My father remained in the corner at first, but after about ten minutes took up the chair near where he had been standing.
For the whole hour, he was muttering things to himself, under his breath. Probably about me. Saying what a fuck up I was. But hey, I already knew that.
I ended up telling them - not that dad was listening - that I’d gone for a late night walk, to clear my head, and I’d ended up at the old bridge. I’d been peering over when I lost my balance and fell.
What, I wasn’t going to tell them that I tried to kill myself. Do you know what they’d do to me? They’d lock me up in my room all day, no sharp objects or anything that I could use to kill myself. They’d send me to a shrink. You know the ones, they say it’s a confidential conversation, but right after you’ve left they start blabbing everything you told them to your parents? Yep, one of them, and then they’d lock me up in a mental institution so they didn’t have to deal with me.
I could see it now. So that’s why I decided to lie. It’s not like they’d ever find out. Unless Brian told them… but even though I’d only known him since today, I was pretty sure he wasn’t the kind of guy to do what the shrinks do. He just didn’t look like he fitted that profile.
Mum told me he’d been here every day to visit me. Why? I have no idea. Maybe it’s because he rescued me (even though I didn’t want to be rescued, but hey, he didn’t know that) and he wanted to see how I was doing, if I’d woken up yet, etc.
When I get out of here, I’m definitely going to call him. Maybe he really does care enough to talk to me. No one had cared to talk to me since Mikey first did, a little over a year ago. How I miss Mikey. But maybe, just maybe, I can have a friend. Maybe Brian can be that friend.
Fuck, I still want to die though.