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It wasn't uncommon for me to lay in my bed completely dark, but it is since Carl left Pueblo. At least right now we're on break, and the other bed in the room is empty, celebrating with their family I suppose. I don't really mind, the fact that I'm not celebrating as well I mean. It stopped really meaning anything to me long ago. Better yet, I get the room to myself to enjoy utter darkness and quiet.
I stand from the bed. I'm not gonna sleep anyways, and I don't really need light to traverse my room. Ouch! As soon as I think that my leg hits a chair. Awesome work there, Chase. I limp to the faucet.
It might sound sarcastic after what just happened, but I actually find it mesmerizing how nothing stops existing just because it can't be perceived. To exist only for yourself… That must feel amazing. I'm probably just overthinking it though. I reach for a cup. I miss it in the darkness and almost drop it but luck was on my side this time, for once. I open the faucet and fill the cup.
Some light seeps inside through the crack in the door that leads to the hallway. Sometimes I use a towel or something alike to block that light but I didn't really feel like it today. Not like my bed is anywhere near that door anyways. I lift the cup to drink but there I see something that freezes me. Sydney. His face, inside the water… That panicked expression and his lifeless eyes… I throw the cup away, not really sure where. I'm not thirsty anymore.
I return to the bedside. I don't lay down yet, I just want to sit down. My heart is beating like crazy. I suppose sleep deprivation isn't helping with that, but it's not like it's my choice. My leg also keeps hurting more by the minute. Focus, Chase. I control my breathing, just like I've been taught countless times already. It kinda helps but it also leaves me short of breath and doesn't slow my heart rate enough anyways. I can still feel it pounding in my chest, but now I also can't stop hearing my breathing. My leg doesn't magically stop hurting either. I wish all this could just stop.
My body feels heavy. I want to end all this noise but there would be no coming back from that. I like to think I'd be missed if that happened, but I'm just being delusional. I'm a nuisance to my family and I don't have any friends. In the present day at least. I can picture my past friends in my funeral, talking all like "He used to be so cool as a kid but what has come of him now?", "Yeah, he's barely talked to us this last years, not like I wanted him to anyways". "¡Man, you can say that again! He keeps on texting me lately acting all pathetic-like, ew!", but that's if they even assist. I'm too much of a coward to find out though.
I lay down on the bed again. A bed whose sheets I haven't changed since I was left by myself. They're a mess, but it isn't like I deserve anything else so I settle, I didn't intend on changing them any day soon anyways. I stare at the ceiling, or at least what is supposed to be it. I can't really set it apart from the walls or, well, anything else. But that's the fun, I can just pretend it isn't there. I can pretend there isn't anything anywhere. I'm on my own in the world, or even in the universe. No one to answer to or to run from. But myself.
I instinctively reach for my bracelet. I usually hide it away in a random drawer but today… I needed it close by. Even though I can't see it I can still feel the shape in my paws and visualize the penning in it: "Leo" and "Wolf". I get the ever-growing impulse of texting him, as much as I know it would lead nowhere. But god, do I miss him… I miss everyone back there. And those who went elsewhere too. And the one that never got the chance to make his choice as well. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't have been better if I had just taken his place. He would've realized how awful it is to take a life and would've left Toby alone. I never would've broken Leo's heart and Flynn never would've had to grieve endlessly. Carl would've had a proper friend too, unlike me. My parents wouldn't have had to see how their only son grows up to be a useless disappointment as well. Maybe Jenna would've been left worse off, but who am I kidding, it's Jenna we're talking about. I'm so sorry, Sydney.
The noise persists. My heart grows louder and my breathing gets ragged. I snort, and only then do I notice I'm crying. Who cares, I deserve to feel like this. I really do. I can't stop myself from clawing at my arms and neck, and I can't help but wonder if I'll have to clean up blood from the bedsheets tomorrow. If there even is a tomorrow. But there always is.
Light always finds a way to sneak into my room again.