Page 126 of Frozen Flames

I didn’t even realize I was tearing up as the memories flood my mind, both good and bad, good and bad…

I think of my time post-accident, of my life with Gemma beforehand. I think of Henrik’s laugh and off-the-wall comments. I think of the pain, the worst pain. I think of Claire and her words and her spirit.

Claire…

My vision blurs from the tears.

I picture it so well, our future together, what it would look like if I wasn’t disabled. I’d do anything for that future, anything to be able to walk again.

I stare at the mushy pills in my hands, knowing that time is of the essence, and just then, a little angel named Henrik comes in as I hear the door shut loudly.

“Harvey?” He shrieks when he finally notices the look on my face and the pills in my hand. “Harvey, no! No!” He reaches for me and uses a napkin to remove them from my hand. “I can’t… Harv…what thefuck!” Henrik’s tearing up, washing my hands with wipes now. He scrubs and scrubs and scrubs, and if I didn’t have a ball lodged in the middle of my throat, I would tell him that my hands are clean.

At least literally they are.

Figuratively is a different thing.

I still feel as if I’m on fire, yet having Henrik here, hugging me in silence now, appeases a part of my soul.

You can heal…

I want to tell that voice to fuck right off, that I’ve tried.

I tried to be happy for the people around me. Yet most of it was fake. Gemma was right. For so long, I smiled around others and pretended all was right in the world, yet deep down, when the mask fell off at the end of the night, I was miserable.

I couldn’t help drowning her as well.

“It’s gonna be okay, Harvey… I’m here, I promise. We’ll get through this together. I…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he releases me and rubs his sleeve against his eyes to dab the tears away. “You can’t leave me, you fucking idiot! Don’t you get it, Harv? You’remy world. Do you know what it would do to me if I lost you? To Mom? Dad? Gemma and her family?Claire?”

My chest tightens in response to his words, knowing I would’ve let down a lot of people. More disappointment, except this time I wouldn’t have been around to feel its impact.

“Fuck, Harv.” Hen shakes his head. “Here, drink some water,” he says, handing me the same glass.

I don’t refuse it. I take it and appreciate the hell out of more sips.

Henrik grabs all my medications and shoves them in his pocket, and I know, deep down, that he’ll never let me take my own pills for a while.

“I’ll be right back.” When he comes back, he places a wet towel on my forehead and around my face. It’s cold, but it feels nice. “I called Dad, and Claire.”

“You shouldn’t have called her.”

“She’s still your nurse,” he replies dryly.

I don’t say anything.

Everything feels surreal in this moment, as if it didn’t actually happen. I didn’t take pills in my hand with the intent of killing myself.

I don’t know what seems so peaceful about dying. I mean, what do I really know about it? For all I know, dying could be the least painless thing to do.

Somehow I doubt it though.

Somehow I’m sure it’s serene.

Somehow I felt ready to go down that path earlier.

I can’t say for certain that I would’ve done it. I’m surer that I wouldn’t have—that I couldn’t have hurt the ones I love that way.

I don’t even want to actuallydie. I don’t truly wish for that. I just wish for the pain and the loneliness and the feeling of failure to stop.

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