Shame & Blame

Hmmm this is nice, comfortable and black. I like black. It’s my favorite color. Although, it’s not really a color. It’s the absence of light. A reflection of my life, I suppose.

Anyhoo … Anyhoo? Are these even my thoughts? Yeah, I think so. I’m doing a mental dairy. Why? Good question. Something ain’t right. How about the fact that I’m surrounded by a thick darkness? It’s not like I’m lying in bed with the lights out. There’s no shimmer of moonlight creeping through the blinds. No, this blackness is all-consuming.

Should I be petrified right now? Maybe, but an unusual calmness comforts me. Letting go would be easy. Like drifting off to a permanent pain-free slumber. I’ve been searching for this absolute peacefulness for a long time. It almost feels like the loving embrace of my Mom. What’s holding me back?

“I love you, Tex.”

I love you too, Birdie.

Wait … I meant to say that out loud. I try again, but nothing happens. Do I even have a mouth? Am I even a person? What are the qualifications for being a human? A body, I would think. I’m not even sure I have one. Perhaps, I’m a floating head.

The fuck?

Ellie’s faraway voice speaks to me again. “You will survive this, Tex. I’ll make sure nothing gets in your way. Your life will be beautiful. Promise me, you won’t let go.”

Her sad sobs echo, like I’m at the bottom of a wishing well. She’s telling me I can’t let go. Of course not. I need to be by her side, she sounds so somber. But where is she? Where am I?

Of fuck. Is this Limbo? That can’t be it. I would plummet straight down to hell and land in the arms of the Devil. Whatever the fuck’s going on, I must find a way out.

What about that dim light miles above me? Like a dumb salmon swimming upstream, I struggle my way toward it. It’s exhausting. This darkness has its claws in me, trying to drag me further down. It’s not comforting anymore. It feels cold and … definite. Can’t let it take me under.

My laborious fight pays off. As twilight closes in, a strange rhythmic beeping sound enters the scene. The fuck’s that? It gets louder and louder until it’s all I can hear. Without a warning, the world—or wherever the fuck I am—flips upside down and I plunge into a pool of luminous white.

Shit.

Did I just die for real?

No, the thumping sound of my heart is back. Also, the muscles in my limbs seem to be working again. In search of Ellie, I pat the space next to me, but I only find the edge of the bed. Strange, I always sleep on the left side.

I check my other side as well. Again, no one. The mattress feels different and the metal doesn’t do that squeaky thing when I move. This is definitely not my bed.

My heart skips a beat. Am I in some random girl’s bed? Did Ellie find out and knock the light outta me? No, I would never cheat on her. Something more sinister is going on.

Well, then, open your goddamn eyes.

Light stabs me in the eyeballs when I snap my lids open. Christ! That hurt. I screw them shut again. Very fucking carefully, I squint until I’m used to the brightness.

The room I’m in is unfamiliar. The walls are painted a sterile kinda white and the furniture looks generic. A small, turned-off television screen hangs from the ceiling. What is this? A nursing home? Did I go through a Donny Darko-style wormhole and am now geriatric? Maybe my life turned out to be a science-fiction story instead of a tragedy.

The fuck’s wrong my with head? Am I high or something? When I slightly turn my face, I finally see what was making that beeping sound.

A monitor with vibrant green lines beeps steadily beside me. Next to it stands a metal pole. From it hangs a bag, filled with some kinda fluid. The clear liquid drips into the plastic tube that leads to my wrist.

I’m in a fucking hospital.

Makes more sense, but still … the fuck am I doing here? When I try to shout, something in my throat prevents me from making any sound. Like a living corpse, I wait for help to arrive.

After countless seconds, the door finally opens and a short woman with a tight bun on her head comes in. She’s wearing a nurse’s outfit. Not the sexy kind, but the kind someone who works in a hospital wears. She grabs the clipboard from the end of the bed and nods slowly.

How can I ask for assistance with that fucking tube down my throat? A gurgling sound escapes my lips and the woman jumps up.

She jumps a little, eyes wide and hand pressed to her chest. “Mr. Chase. You are awake.”

Yes, I’m awake. Now take this fucking tube outta me.

Obviously, I can’t say the words out loud, but my eyes must have made the message clear. With quick strides, she leaves the room again.

She better not leave me here.

Shortly after, she returns with the doctor. With curious eyes, he takes a look at me. His spotless white coat and short grey hair comfort me a little. Nice square jawline. He must have been a handsome devil when he was my age.

The fuck?

Why am I thinking about the doctor like a ditzy girl? The drugs they are feeding me through that tube must be fucking with my head.

“Mr. Chase,” the doctor begins, “we’re going to remove the breathing tube. It will be an unpleasant feeling, but you have to try to relax.”

I don’t care. I just need this thing outta me. With a flick of his chin, he signals the nurse to begin. With my eyes closed, I let the nurse peel away the tape holding the tube in place.

“Relax, sweetheart,” she orders right before she starts removing the tube. The doctor wasn’t lying, it’s an irritating sensation. Thankfully, it’s over before my gags turn to actual vomiting.

The doctor keeps his eyes on me. “Try to take slow breaths. Deep ones might hurt a bit.”

Of course, I try to take a deep breath, but it hurts like a motherfucker, so I do as the doctor told me and take a few shallow ones. The uncomfortable feeling lessens with every breath I draw.

“Good. Good.” The doctor holds his finger up before my eyes. “Follow my finger.”

He slowly moves it from left to right and back again. My eyes have no trouble completing the task. With a penlight, he suddenly shines into my pupils. The brightness hurts, so I snap my lids shut and turn my head. “Fuck off.”

The doctor chuckles. “Good to have you back, Mr. Chase. Everything seems in order, but we have to do some more tests later.”

I’m starting to grow impatient. None of this makes sense. He better have some fucking answers. “Why am I here?”

He observes me silently before saying, “You overdosed on drugs. According to the lab report, you had a nearly lethal dose of fentanyl in your system. To be honest, I thought we were going to lose you, but something kept your heart beating.”

Fucking fentanyl?

His words shake me up. I would never take that shitty drug. Nothing but misery comes from it. I fucking know that like no other. I try to remember but my head is a blur. Only one thing remains steady in my head. She always does.

“Where’s my girlfriend?”

The doctor seems unsure for some reason, averting his eyes. “As your physician , I can only inform you on your medical state. Personal questions, you should discuss with your manager. He should be here shortly, we already called him.”

They called Roy? Why didn’t they call Ellie? Right, we’re not married or anything and I never put her down as my emergency contact.

Stupid fucking protocol.

As on cue, an ash-colored Roy storms inside. When he sees my face, he lets out a deep breath of relief. The doctor takes the opportunity to make his leave. “Don’t get him too upset, he’s still weak.”

I huff when Roy gives him a meaningful nod. I’m not weak. I’m like a goddamn weed, always springing back to life when death is expected.

When the doctor and nurse are both gone, Roy pulls a chair close to the bed and sits down. “How are you feeling?”

“Well, let’s see—“ I swallow when my throat aches. “—I just woke up in a hospital with a tube down my throat. I have no idea what fucking year it is and, apparently, I overdosed on fentanyl.” He nods solemnly to confirm my words. “But I don’t care about any of that. Where the fuck is my girl?”

With his head in his hands, he sighs again. “What do you remember?”

His evasive reply worries me. What do I remember? I fist the bedsheet and close my eyes. We had a fight. A big fucking fight. I remember that much. I was yelling at her. Why was I so angry?

Right.

She came home in the morning after spending the night in jail. Why was I so angry about that? I got arrested a few times myself. I would be a hypocrite if that was the only reason. No, there was more.

She said hurtful things and so did I. The image of a terrified Ellie pops up. I remember losing my shit and smashing a plate. I completely fucked up.

When clarity doesn’t come, I open my eyes again. “We had a fight, but I don’t remember anything after.”

He rests his chin in the palm of his hand while contemplating my words. “That makes sense, I guess. Well, apparently one of your neighbors saw you lying on the floor through the window and called 911. The paramedics shot you up with Naloxone and performed CPR before rushing you to the hospital. Somehow, they managed to keep you alive. You’ve been in a coma for a week.”

A fucking week?

Jesus Christ!

No wonder Roy looks like shit. He must have thought that I was gonna die. Guilt fills my gut. However, he still hasn’t answered my question. Why does everyone keep avoiding it? “So, where is Ellie?”

He looks at me with pitiful eyes. “I’m sorry, but she’s gone.”

My heart cracks. “You mean like gone back home to get some rest or gone to get something to eat?”

His eyes hold the truth, but I need to hear him say the words. “No, Tex. She left Los Angeles. I’m not sure, but I think she’s back in Faroaks.”

How fucking fantastic.

I lived only to die again. The butterflies I grew fond of are nothing but glass shards now, scraping the inside of my chest. Yeah, I really fucked up this time. I always knew that this day would come, so why does it strike me as a surprise?

This is the exact reason I never wanted to fall in love, but I did fall. I fell so fucking hard, I landed straight in the hospital. After that night in the tour bus, the door to my heart was cracked open and once she passed the threshold, I was completely hers and she was mine. I had all of her and now I have none of her.

Roy’s voice is soft with concern. “Are you okay?”

A spoken answer is not necessary, the look on my face speaks volumes. This pain is mine, and mine alone, to bear. “What’s gonna happen now?”

He seems to understand that I’m not ready talk about Ellie. “You are going to rehab. It’s already taken care of.”

“Fucking rehab?” I can’t hide the shock in my voice. “I’m not going to some damn witchdoctor to have my brain dissected.”

He jumps up from his chair, his face angrier than I’ve ever seen. “After everything we’ve been through. After all those times I picked your drunk and drugged-up ass from the gutter, you will go to fucking rehab!” He sits down in his chair again and holds his head in his hands. “You almost died.”

Those last words were barely audible. This time, he’s really done with my bullshit. No one knows how he helped me get clean years ago, how he cared for me every time I relapsed. Axel and Joey might have a clue, but we never spoke about it. My choice, of course. Didn’t want them to know that I’m nothing but a fuck-up with a decent voice.

I owe them all, especially Roy, my life. If rehab is what they want, then rehab it will be. “Okay. I will go.”

He takes my hand, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

In hopes of lightening the mood, I whip up a fake-smirk. “How are you doing? You look like shit.”

My joking didn’t help, the mood remains heavy and Roy’s face grim. “Knowing how troubled you’ve been for years, I thought I was prepared for the call, but when they told me you were in the hospital and your chances of survival were less than slim, I couldn’t believe it. For a while you really seemed better. What the hell happened between you and Ellie?”

Everything happened. Ellie turned my world upside down and made me almost believe that I was deserving of love. Tender memories flash before my eyes. Memories of our whispered words in the dark, our tangled limbs and beating hearts. I never understood why she choose to be with me but she did, and I loved her in silence.

Why didn’t I just tell her how much I love her? I’m such a fucking idiot. I always came up with lamest excuses for not speaking the words. I have no sane explanation for it, though. Sometimes it felt easy to confess the surface of my feelings but the depth of it remained unspoken. Even at the very end.

When I smashed that plate against the wall, she saw me for who I really am. She packed her bags without waiting to see if I would make it out alive. It tells me enough. I ruined us to the point of no return.

The crease in Roy’s forehead deepens. Right. He asked me a question. “The usual.” I sigh and hang my head. “I fucked up.”

A/N

My poor boy 💔 I feel so sad for him, but who knows? Maybe he needs to hit rock bottom before finding his way back up. Time will tell...

Let me know what you think! ❤️

Also, if you want to delve into the dark depths of his mind, check out Rewound & Retold. 😘

X Dionne