Page 16 of Fighting the Darkness

I don’t understand.

I’d gone to bed feeling great about myself and where life is leading me, but today... All I feel is despair. Last night almost feels like a dream.

I wish Freyr was here. I want to tell him about last night—about meeting Vicki and Quinn. About how much I loved it at The Guillotine. About how I want to learn how to fight.

But he’s not here, and he never will be again.

Tears fill my eyes as I squeeze them shut, pulling my knees up to my chest as guilt and grief rush through me, heavier than they’ve felt in a long time.

How dare I enjoy myself when my brother is dead because of me?

How can I ever be happy without him by my side?

How can I keep living with this crushing guilt pushing me down?

The intruding thoughts grow heavier and heavier, and I know there will be no fighting them today.

I withdraw into my mind, getting lost in happier times when Freyr was still alive and still mine.

The next few days aren’t any better.

I can barely drag myself out of bed to use the bathroom.

Mom tsks when I refuse to eat more than a few bites of the food she brings me.

When my phone wouldn’t stop going off, I threw it across the room before burying myself under the covers. That was on day one. It’s surely dead by now, and I have no idea where I even threw it.

I don’t know who would’ve been messaging me, anyway.

No one cares about me.

I’m alone.

Life is meaningless.

I sink back into sleep with the intrusive thoughts pushing in on me over and over again.

I stretch my arms, no longer flinching against the light streaming in through my windows.

I have no idea what day it is. I don’t know how long I was under this time.

For the first time, I realize I have people who might be worried about me. Maybe.

I stumble from the bed, heading for the bathroom. I’ve been ignoring my body’s needs for too long.

After the longest pee ever, I force myself to take a quick shower to rid myself of the days spent in my own filth.

I sigh as I wrap a towel around myself and step back into my bedroom. I wrinkle my nose at the mess; at the smell. Throwing open the curtains, I open the windows to allow the air to clear out some of the smell.

Turning back to my bed, I shake my head. I hate when I finally pull myself out of a depressive state because it requires more cleaning than I’d like. I’m not sure I can do it today. I’ll need to call in reinforcements.

I search for my phone, remembering that I threw it on the first day. I find it buried under my clothes from the night I’d gone to The Guillotine. How had it ended up under them?

I shake my head, bringing it over to the charger. I’ll have to wait until it has enough charge to see how long I was under this time, but a glance at the clock tells me it’s mid-morning.

Suddenly, I feel exhausted. My shoulders droop, an overwhelming sense of helplessness rushing through me. I can’t even take care of myself on a daily basis. How will I ever be a functioning adult? I’m twenty-two years old, living with my parents. I have no plans for the future, and no desire to decide what I want to do with my life.

My eyes fall shut, a single tear falling down my cheek before I straighten up. Pushing my shoulders back, I know I have to do this one step at a time.

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