Page 23 of Fighting the Darkness

He would want me to keep fighting, and that’s what I have to do—no matter how hard it is.

I don’t know how long I lay there crying, but eventually, I sit up and lean my back against the cabinets.

I can’t believe I almost killed myself.

It’s not the first time it’s happened, and as much as I’d love to believe it’s the last, I know there’s always a chance it could happen again if I don’t get some help.

“I miss you so much, Freyr.” Wiping away my tears, I look up at the ceiling as I speak to my brother. “I don’t know how to do this without you, but I made you a promise all those years ago that I’d always keep fighting. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to keep trying, keep fighting. I don’t know how, but I’ll figure it out.

“You always said I was strong, but I don’t feel strong now. I feel broken and desperate. If I was as strong as you thought I was, surely I wouldn’t be here right now, would I? I almost killed myself, Freyr. I know wherever you are right now, you’re screaming at me, and I absolutely deserve that. It’s just so hard here without you. My head is so confusing. I have all these thoughts, telling me it should have been me. That if anyone deserved to die, it was me. And yes, I know exactly what you would say to that—fuck that. But it’s not that easy. I’m so weak; so broken.”

I know he would be disappointed in me if he could see me right now.

I wish he could answer me when I talk to him like this, but even if he can hear me, there’s no way for him to answer. It does buoy me to imagine him listening to me when I talk to him.

Tears spill down my cheeks again as I lean forward to rest my head on my knees. I let the sobs course through me; the pain reminding me I’m alive.

Once again, I don’t know how long I cry, but when I stop, I feel... better.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I feel a lightness in my chest that I haven’t felt in months—hope.

And just like that, I know that even if Freyr isn’t here with me physically, he’s still here with me. He’s here supporting me when I’m not strong enough to do it on my own. He’ll always be here to pick me up when I can’t do it myself. Even though he’s gone, I’ll never truly be alone. He’ll help me be strong when I can’t do it on my own.

Now, I need to figure out how to be sure that nothing like this happens again. I can’t let another weak moment end my life.

Pushing to my feet, I find the razor blade and throw it in the trash. Lifting my wrist, I see the wound has already scabbed over. It looks like nothing more than a small scratch made by mistake, but I’ll know what it really is.

Shaking my head, I quickly wash the dried blood from my skin, careful not to rip off the new scab. I put some cream on it and press a bandage to the wound, knowing that even if I can’t see it, I won’t be able to forget it’s there.

Done with that, I head back into Freyr’s room and plop back onto the bed. Now what?

I know I need help, but I don’t know where to even start. I’m sure Mom would help me find another therapist, but part of me shies away from the idea of asking her for help. I’ve already put her through so much—I can’t tell her what almost happened here. Plus, her last choice hadn’t worked out well for me. No, I’ll have to look into that myself.

But the idea of having to do that kind of research feels overwhelming. I know I could ask the people I’ve become a kind of friend with online, but for some reason I balk at that idea too. Why does asking for help have to be so hard?

Shaking my head, I think back to the night at The Guillotine. It had been the first time I’d felt alive since Freyr’s death. I felt invigorated. That right there is what I need.

My eyes scan the room. I have no idea what I’m looking for, but surely, Freyr’s room holds the answers to my questions. A silly notion, I know, but what can I say? I’m not quite feeling like myself at the moment.

Something catches my eye, and I stand up, walking over to pull out the bag from beneath Freyr’s desk. It’s his gym bag.

Turning it over, I check out the logo. No Holds Barred. Why does that name sound familiar?

I bring it over to the bed with me, grabbing my phone and pulling up the list of gyms Quinn sent me. Sure enough, right there at the top of the list is none other than No Holds Barred.

This must be a sign from Freyr of what I’m meant to do next.

I enjoyed watching others fight, but does that mean I’ll enjoy doing it myself? Will I be any good? Everyone always said Freyr was a natural, but that doesn’t mean I am too. But there’s only one to find out for sure, isn’t there?

I know I took a quick shower when I woke up, but I know I need another one if I’m going to leave the house. I grab Freyr’s bag and head to my bedroom.

When I step inside, I realize the housekeeper’s already been here based upon the clean sheets and the orderly fashion of the room—which is not how I left it.

I toss the bag onto my bed and head to the shower. This time, I make sure to wash my hair and body thoroughly, even shaving my legs.

When I step into my room, once more in a towel, I feel refreshed. A small smile makes its way to my lips as I dig in my drawers, trying to find my mostly untouched workout gear. It’s not that I was ever out of shape, but I didn’t do normal workouts. I preferred taking classes over going to the gym. I laugh, imagining myself huffing and puffing as I try to work out.

Raising a hand to my chest, I let the laughter flow through me, even as tears rush to my eyes. This was the right decision. This is what I need. I don’t know how I know it, but I do. There’s no promise that this will fix anything—in fact, I know it won’t—but it’s a start. I’ll go to the gym today, and then either tonight or tomorrow, I’ll start looking for a therapist. I’m going to find a way to keep fighting.

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