I heard crying next to me, but I didn’t respond to it. I kept my face buried in my tucked in knees. I kept my arms wrapped around my legs. I felt my arm crust with blood, but I didn’t respond to that, either. When someone placed a hand on my shoulder, I didn’t react. I didn’t move. I stayed stubbornly in my place, because sitting here was a lot easier than acknowledging the unbearable pain that was spreading through my insides.

“Vic,” a voice said, nudging me gently again. “C’mon, buddy, get up,” he said. I shook my head, fresh tears beginning to burn in my eyes.

“It’s okay, Vic. Just come on,” Tony pleaded. There was a knot in my throat that I just couldn’t swallow done, a tightness in my chest that I just couldn’t breathe through.

I moved my arms slowly—my left one sore and the skin pulling around the dried cuts—and gripped my hair with my hands. I forced my head up, making eye contact with Tony. I looked to my right, seeing Alyssa kneeling down next to me. I looked past her, seeing the bathroom door open, security and a few nurses peering in. And then I looked at Alyssa again, seeing her eyes red and tears streaming down her face. I tilted my head to the side and frowned.

“I’m sorry, Lissy,” I said softly, my voice cracked and croaky from my previous screaming. She shook her head and reached out to touch my near arm, rubbing it sympathetically. I turned away and reburied my head into my knees. I realized that I preferred sitting like that than staring at the pain in my best friend and girl friend’s eyes.

“Come on, Vic. It’s going to be okay. Let’s just get you out of here and you can get fresh air,” Tony suggested. I looked up again and sighed. Bree was dead. Dead. She no longer breathed, she no longer blinked, she no longer existed. Even though we weren’t together anymore, I still loved her. Even though I loved Alyssa as my girlfriend, I loved Bree as the girl who saved me from my past. I was in love with Alyssa, but I still loved Bree. And the fact that she wasn’t here anymore was agonizing.

At these thoughts, I started to sob again. I clenched my fists as I broke down into tears, ignoring everyone around me. Tony continued to talk to me, but I didn’t hear him. Alyssa tried to, but I wasn’t listening.

All I could think about was that other time I locked myself in a bathroom.

“You can’t be in here,” I slurred, dangling my hands loosely over my tucked in knees.

“It doesn’t matter,” Bree sighed. “Please, Vic. Please get up,” she said. At her words I felt her hand gentle caress the back of my now sore head. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” she whispered.

“I’m so sorry,” I cried, hating myself for my reaction. Why couldn’t I just be a man?

“Stop,” she said, her voice rather fierce. She put her hands on either side of my face, kneeling down to my level. “Stop,” she repeated again softly.

I conceded to her words, pulling her into me and burying my face into her shoulder. Her hair smelt like the ocean breeze, and I sighed in relief.

“Um, Vic? Can we please get out of the bathroom?” she asked with a light chuckle. I nodded and smiled a little, pulling away and slowly standing up, my head pounding and my heart aching.

I stood up slowly, exactly as I did back then—right after I had kissed Bree for the first time, when I was still in the mental hospital. I looked numbly around at everyone, thinking to myself how things have changed! I let out a short laugh, and then I screamed again, collapsing down to a squat and yanking my hair with my hands. Before anyone had time to do anything, I stood up straight, let out a growl, and turned, swinging my arm and punching the wall. “Fuck!” I yelled, slapping my other hand against the wall next to the spot I had punched, and I slid down the wall, crying into the tile. A shooting pain went up my right arm, but I dismissed it. The pain in my surely broken wrist didn’t even compare to the pain in my broken heart.

At this point, security and nurses intervened. I let them. I let them put their hands on me and pick me up. I let them pull me out of the bathroom as I dragged my feet. I let them sit me down in a chair and offer me a drink. I let them talk to me, but I didn’t listen. I couldn’t hear anything. I let them wave their hands in front of my face, but I didn’t respond to their motions. I let them gently shake my shoulders, to see if I was awake, but my head only lolled around like jell-o to the movements. Even when Tony stood in front of me, trying to get me to “snap out of it”, I didn’t respond. Even when Alyssa caressed my cheek lovingly, or played with my hair, or spoke to me gently, I didn’t react. I didn’t react when Tony pointed to my arm, showing the nurses where I had hurt myself. I should have been angry with him for giving me away, but I wasn’t. I didn’t react when they gasped in horror at my blood stained sleeve and torn up skin. They yanked me up and nearly dragged me into another room, sitting me down in another chair, just like another patient, another broken boy, another sliced wrist. I didn’t react when the started to clean my arm; I didn’t feel the sting. I didn’t acknowledge them when they assured that they “weren’t too bad”. I didn’t react when they stuck a needle in a particularly deep one; I didn't react when they strung a few stitches into my arm. I didn’t wince in pain when they wrapped my arm tightly with some bandages. I didn’t even notice other doctors working on my broken hand, fixing me up quickly and efficiently even though the pieces are never quite going to be the same. I didn’t smile contently when Alyssa continued to brush back my hair, even though I should have. I just sat there, letting everyone do their thing while I wrapped myself in my new blanket of numbness, waiting for them to tell me that I was crazy and needed to go back to the mental institution.

The only thing I reacted to was when they told me that I didn’thave to go back there. I made sure to nod in all of the right places when the doctor talked to me about self-harm and suicide, depression and death, and he gave me a card for a therapist that I most definitely was not going to see.

The girl who changed my life was dead, though. Cold and hard, and I probably wouldn’t be allowed to go to her funeral, if her parents were giving her one. I wouldn’t be allowed to visit her grave. I would be shut out completely—this was much worse than her leaving. Because this time she didn’t even leave behind a note. All I had to hold on to were her last words, words she just barely choked out before she joined her brother: “I love you, Vic… more than… than you’ll ever…”

More than I’ll ever, what? More than I’ll ever know? Or, more than I’ll ever love her?

It could go either way, but either way hurt like a bitch.

I hurt. But I couldn’t look Alyssa in the eye as she held me hand, as Tony drove us back to our place. I let her hold my hand, but I didn’t say a single word. When we walked up to our apartment, I didn’t even react when we reached our door, where I had found Bree just hours prior. I just blinked numbly at the space and carried on.

They tried to talk to me, but I wasn’t hearing them. Even if I heard their voices, I wasn’t listening. I didn’t consider that the way I was acting was hurting Alyssa. I knew she was understanding, but she needed me just as much as I needed her. But I still couldn’t react to that thought at all. I couldn’t simply “snap out of it”.

Alyssa led me to my room and pushed me back on the bed gently. I instantly curled up into myself, blinking out a few stray tears. Tony appeared and sat at the end of the bed, staring at me sadly. I didn’t react when I saw his lips move, I didn’t hear what he was saying. I shook my head and blinked slowly.

And then Alyssa came into better view; she was kneeling in front of me, her head at my level. She might have mouthed the words “I love you”, but I couldn’t open my mouth to say them back, even though I wanted to. She didn’t look disappointed, though, which I didn’t expect. Nor did she look hurt from my behavior, which I was glad. The only thing in her eyes was care; at least I knew she wasn’t going to leave me. I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge this, though. I closed my eyes slowly when she started to brush her thumb over my cheek. She rested her palm on the side of my face, and I sighed in relief—the first time I have responded to anything all afternoon. I opened my eyes and stared at her with pleading eyes, and, luckily, she understood. Tony had already gone, so she leaned forward and placed a light kiss on my mouth. I wished that I had the energy to kiss her back. I wanted to, but I couldn’t respond. And she continued to caress my cheek with her gentle hands, even though I wasn’t responding to anything, she was still there.

I blinked, and I saw she was gone. A wave of disappointment crashed over me, but I didn’t show it. I just stared at the wall that was a few feet away, silently wishing I could bang my head into it just so I could feel and react to something. But then I felt a tap on my shoulder from behind. The bed next to me sunk in, but I didn’t turn. I let whoever it was hold my shoulder and pull me down and back around, so I was facing the other direction. The previous wave of disappointment receded when I saw Alyssa sitting there. She reached over to me and carefully picked me up, dragging me closer to her, so my head was resting comfortably in her lap and one of her hands was tangling themselves in my hair while the other brushed across my face.

I looked up at her and I tried to smile, but I couldn’t. I hoped she could see through the darkness in my eyes and uncover the appreciation that was hidden underneath my layer of pain and suffering and numbness. I think she did, because she smiled weakly at me and continued to brush my face with her fingers. I closed my eyes and focused on her touch. The monster writhing inside of me slowly calmed down and eventually locked itself back away into the iron cage, but I my body remained as still and useless as an exoskeleton.

Notes

Just a very tiny descriptive chapter to show how much Vic is affected by Bree. Poor Vic :(
Even though Bree messed up a few times, they still cared a lot about each other. Even though Vic has Alyssa, he still can be torn up over Bree dying because she really did have a huge affect on his life. So here's a tiny update to show that