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The water was far too hot to sit comfortably in, but Sejanus grit his teeth and lowered himself into the tub anyway.
A deep sigh escaped him when he was up to his neck. After a moment, the pain from the heat fizzled into numbness.
His eyes slid shut in attempted relaxation, and the moment they did:
Marcus, games, arena, explosion, running, crucifix, cameras, Marcus, crucifix, dust, Coriolanus, television, breadcrumbs, Marcus.
They shot back open, reminding him he was still trapped in the safety of his house.
Trapped?, a voice in the back of his mind questioned, How stupid are you? You're not trapped, the half dozen district kids still stuck in that stadium are trapped.
Even as the voice taunted him, the dull pain in his leg from his and Coriolanus’ narrow escape reminded him that he, too, was little more than a district kid stuck here. Yet, the fact that the pain had dulled so much, thanks to weeks worth of morphling dosages, told him that he was more Capitol than he'd care to be.
Medication was a luxury. He should be grateful. He should be grateful about so many things. Medication, for one. Food, clothes, the academy, this house, the mere fact that he was alive in the first place; not that he particularly wanted to be.
His throat tightened at that thought.
It wasn't the first time the idea had entered his mind. It'd been distantly floating somewhere in his brain, surfacing on and off again since he was fifteen, but was getting harder to ignore in recent months, weeks, and days. Sejanus functioned under that assumption that it would go away when he graduated, moved out, and didn't have anyone breathing down his neck about gratitude anymore, but he wasn't certain he could make it until then.
He'd been more than ready in the arena, inviting and accepting a blade to the neck or gut. It'd be an unremarkable, but multifaceted, death given the circumstances. Those from the Capitol would see nothing more than district kids killing one of their own, which was the name of the game. The tributes would see this as revenge on the Capitol by killing one of its citizens. Though it could be argued that he belonged to both sides, he felt as if he belonged to neither.
As the water singed his skin and the steam rose around him, he couldn't help but be angry that he'd survived that night. He'd entered with every intention of dying, but he never was very good at getting what he wanted.
The ungrateful guilt settled back in, as he realized the things he most wanted were things anyone else would be desperate to get away from. He wanted to be district, and he wanted to be dead. It wasn't fair, either, to be so angry when Coriolanus had risked so much to come after him.
Sejanus took a deep breath, steam filling his lungs as he tried to settle his mind.
He'd spent the last few days with too much morphling in his system to form a coherent thought. Initially for the leg pain, then for the emotional hysterics. Before it, he hadn't been sleeping or eating, and hardly talking.
It was hours spent in bed staring up at the ceiling before Ma dragged him down the kitchen, where he only managed to stare blankly at whatever she put in front of him. For about a week, the only energy he seemed to muster were during yelling matches with Pa, who harbored no patience or sympathy for whatever was happening to his son.
As much as he detested the drugs, at least now he could muscle through the days without a meltdown. Though it was prescription, each time he took it he pictured himself in thirty years looking just like Dean Highbottom: glazed and unfocused eyes, sagging skin, all-but a zombie. It made the unflavored liquid go sour in his mouth.
It was after this thought where he realized he'd not taken any today. His prescription was beginning to wane and he was under instructions to only take it when he absolutely needed it. When this ran out, he'd get no more. Plus, the vials were locked away in Ma’s cabinet. If he wanted any, he had to convince her it was necessary.
Maybe that's why this feeling had returned with such a fervor. Having spent so many days with a drug known for clearing your mind, the absence of it allowed for thoughts to trickle back in.
Sejanus moved a hand to the side of the bathtub, running a knuckle over the side of the porcelain. It was incredibly cool, causing him to realize how bright red his skin had become from the water temperature.
So those are the options? he thought bitterly to himself, Dedicate your life to a drug that silences your mind, or don't and kill yourself anyway because it's too loud.
He gripped the side of the tub, suddenly becoming acutely aware of just how hot the water was, and how it was burning every inch of him that was under it.
An idea came to him and without a second thought he took a deep gulp of air, closed his eyes, and slid backwards, submerging his head under the water.
The heat overtook him, causing his face to tingle as it adjusted to the change in temperature. He opened his eyes to look up at the ceiling tiles, now swimming above him, distorted by the water.
It brought a strange sense of calm.
He thought of Two, as he did often. The beautiful lakes it contained, the family trips to them where they'd spend all day swimming and having picnics.
He remembered Pa teaching him how to float, and how time seemed slow to a crawl as he lay on his back in the water, staring at the bluest sky he'd ever seen.
His heart ached with homesickness, and his chest burned and begged for air. He held himself to the floor of the tub, keeping his eyes fixed on the warped light fixture on the ceiling.
If he was back in Two this would be exceptionally easier. He'd fill his pockets with rocks and walk straight into that beautiful lake, and the bluest sky he'd ever seen would be the last thing he saw.
Well, if he was in Two, he wouldn't feel the need to do such a thing. As it stood, the capitol was too much of a metropolis to have easy access to an acceptable lake. Plus, the skies always seemed gray here, even on clear days.
Black dots began to dance in the corner of his eyes, and in response he merely shut them. He had to fight against his own body to stay under the water, but if he could just slip into unconsciousness, the rest would take care of itself.
For the first time, he thought of a funeral. It certainly wouldn't be a major event. Sure, he came from a family with a large name, but that didn't mean the family itself was large. It'd be Ma and Pa, and maybe Ma’s sister from two would be able to come. They didn't keep in touch with any other family.
As for his ‘friends’ at the academy, he could assume Coriolanus would be there. Maybe his cousin too, for support. If anyone else came, it would be out of obligation; their families needed to keep up appearances in order to stay in his father's good graces.
It'd be a short ceremony. No one would speak, because if they did they'd only be telling lies of how much potential he had, how much good he could have possibly done. It wouldn't be true, and they'd all know it.
He could perfectly imagine his father's face- stone cold unreadable, no tears in the public eye, no weakness at all. How disappointed he'd be. How unsurprised.
Involuntarily, he attempted to breathe, and water rushed into his mouth and down his throat. He coughed, which only brought more water down his windpipe.
Suddenly he was awake, the peaceful delusion of his death shattered as he was faced with the very real possibility of waterboarding himself.
His head came above water and air filled his lungs once more as he spat out the water which was still in his mouth.
Sejanus coughed harshly, his body desperately trying to be rid of the unnecessary liquid. He wiped a hand over his face, clearing away the extra water and getting the hair out of his eyes.
His breathing was heavy as he came back to his senses, realizing fully what had just happened and how close it came to actually working.
A knock at the door helped clear the ringing in his ears, and he suppressed another ugly cough.
“Sejanus?” Ma’s voice came from the other side.
His vision was still blurred so he couldn't be certain, but he was fairly sure he'd locked the door.
“Yeah.” His voice came hoarsely. He buried his face in the crook of his arm to muffle the coughs so she couldn't hear.
He was relieved when she didn't try to come in.
“Supper's in the kitchen if you'd like some.”
He nodded, then realized she couldn't see, and managed a meek ‘Alright’.
He held his breath to the count of ten, making sure she was far enough down the hall that she wouldn't hear him still coughing and struggling to catch his breath.
Sejanus found himself with an odd amount of clarity as his breathing returned to normal and he rubbed the dark spots out of his eyes. He expected to be disappointed by the interruption, but instead found himself more afraid of somebody finding out.
What spontaneous plan that has been didn't work, clearly, but he slowly came to the conclusion that it didn't feel … bad.
Enough, he told himself, now paranoid that Ma had somehow caught on to whatever he was doing. That was one reason not to, he supposed.
One against one hundred, maybe I should start keeping count.
He stood, pulling the plug from the tub’s drain and grabbed a towel off a hook on the wall. He stepped out onto the bathroom floor, his feet once again on solid ground. Looking back at the tub, he simply thought to himself: Another time, then.