There is an emotional and sad scene around 01:11 - 01:14 h where Pam has a flashback of the day when she found her two children that died of a gas leak.
Also John is suicidal and it is hinted at throughout the movie.
My fault? When I tripped over because I didn’t tie up my shoelaces, that was my fault. When my favourite plant died because I forgot to water him, that was my fault. When I lost a friend because I kept putting off contacting them, that was my fault.
When you locked me in your room, when you tried to finger me under the tables in our science class, when you told everyone we had sex, when you made fun of my body and called me a whore, when you tricked me, when you groomed me, when you made fun of me for going to the police, was that my fault? You say yes, I say fuck you.
Those parts of me I’ll never have back, you stole that. There was no us, and there certainly was no me. You haunt me, when I see you my legs don’t work, and I want to run towards you, to embrace you, then thrust my knife into your back. Because that is what you did to me.
I see you laugh at me; I see you jeer. Whore, slut, skank, did you ever really know my name? Did you know what my favourite colour was? Did you know what show I loved the most? Did you even want me? Or did you want my body? You salivate, dripping drool like a dog with a gaping maw, you ate me, then spat me out when I resisted. You didn’t want me when I fought back.
You’re a monster, a lying cheating beast who prays on those who are smaller. You saw a rabbit, ripe, fresh and full of hopes, and you snapped its neck. For so long that rabbit lay there dormant, its neck hanging like a loose rope. I loved you once, at least I thought I did, I was 12 when you started attacking me. You said you love me, then proceeded to treat me like a toy.
You won, you won finally, I broke. 2 times I stood on a ledge, 2 times I choked myself with a rope. I turned, naïve, thinking maybe you’d see what you did. You were laughing. Mouthing “jump”. So, I tried, and 3 angels held me down, took me to the hospital and tried to fix what they could. They mended my physical wounds and tried to fix my brain. They had to remove the TV remote chord, I tried to die again.
I haven’t seen you since, and that brings me great joy. Every time I hear your name, see you active online, I laugh. I’m not fixed, not yet. I don’t think I ever will be. There’s no way to fix what you’ve broken, but that doesn’t mean that it will always bring me down. One day I know I’ll be able to stop the flashbacks, look past the trauma and know it wasn’t my fault. Until then I just must play it day by day. One day you’ll be scared of me, like how I am with you. And on that day, I will have won.
Been losing so much time. Thursday was a continuation of Wednesday. It was Wednesday until it was Friday. There was no Thursday. But it was Wednesday that didn’t start until Thursday. The Thursday that never happened. We probably shouldn’t have Ativan anymore. I forget that We used to black out from Ativan and alcohol. Maybe We are more sensitive in our current condition. We had the outsider hold on to our Ativan for us. Because We knew that We couldn’t trust ourself in the state We’ve been in. Yesterday We asked him for our medicine. He said He gave it to us and that We said that We didn’t need him to hold on to it anymore because We wouldn’t need it anymore…???!!! It wasn’t Teen. It wasn’t Animal. It wasn’t Malice and it sure as fuck wasn’t The Gobos! So who was it? We suffered full amnesia! This isn’t our norm or at least it hasn’t been in a long time. And We’ve been hallucinating. Full, head on hallucinations. That is also not our norm. Not since We were a child. Visual, auditory and tactile hallucinations. We look at our “Trip Check Painting” and the shadows move like We’re on LSD. But We haven’t taken LSD in about a week. We don’t know what this means. But it seems like when We push and stress for an entire semester, by the end of it, something happens to our mental state. We pushed ourself hard, not even this hard but hard enough to cause a state of psychosis in 2019. The last day of class or the very next day, don’t clearly remember, Teen tried to kill the vessel. It was a very serious attempt. And he very nearly succeeded. Was almost rushed to another hospital for a liver transplant but our levels suddenly started coming down. Waking up in the hospital… Never hallucinated that bad in our entire life. A dark shaking figure stood in the corner of our “room”. The walls had weird writing all over them and were moving. Everything had a yellow tint to it.
We are not suicidal. But We are not okay. We do not believe that We are a risk to ourself or anyone else. Other than a possible accidental overdose! That Ativan shit is scary! If We try really hard, We can see someone dropping one of the pills in the trash accidentally then popped the last… 3??? In our mouth. If there were more in there We don’t know if, whoever that was, would have taken all of it.
We did well in Music Theory 101. We did not great at all on our project but ended up getting a 90 on it! Our average was an 89 but when We checked, our overall grade is a 99 point… Something. Can’t really remember but a fucking 99??!! How? Since March We’ve been doing horribly! When We submitted our final project We also wrote a little over 300 words vaguely explaining why We submitted such hot garbage. He wrote back telling me that he thought We were doing well and that he could tell how much work We put in all of our work. After our presentation he clapped…??? We thought he was gonna be like, “Wtf is this?” Even though he did let us know where We fucked up he still seemed to understand that We did know the material We were just having a bad time. None of us saw that coming.
So why are We starting to spiral? Is this just what a burnout feels like for us now? Is there something seriously wrong? We don’t know yet. Hopefully this fades with some rest.
Alec’s hand trembles as the razor blade slides into his thigh for the first time. It always does, but the pain grounds him immediately, makes his hand a bit more steady, but not much.
It used to, but that was when he was still able to feel his body. He barely does now. He hopes soon, he won’t feel anything at all, just wither away and die. The flowers on his grave will be much more beautiful than he could ever be, full of colour, full of life.
Alec can remember a time when he was like them, turning his face to the sun, eager to grow and bloom. It’s a paled memory though.
He could take a shortcut, could move the blade to his wrist and…
His eyes go to that body part of their own accord. He hates his wrist, hates the promise it holds.
Magnus.
The name of his soulmate in beautiful lettering awaits him there. It’s a gift as much as a burden. He knows someone is waiting for him, but the man can’t really want him. Not like this, a skin-covered sack of bones that still feels fat, with eyes that still see too much in the mirror, no matter what the scale says.
The razor glides into his skin, leaving mark after mark, drops of blood running away, burning and tickling just the same. Alec looks at the thin red lines, and he feels as if he can finally breathe again.
The pain in his heart is scribed in his skin, a monument of him not being as dead inside as others believe him to be.
Alec was never stoic as people claimed, he only kept it all in—the pain, the grief, the fear. His parents were too busy working, his siblings too focused on themselves. Only now that he’s waning, their focus is on him. But he doesn’t want them to look at him anymore. He’s finally in control after years of floating in the shadows.
He runs his fingers over the name on his wrist and smiles sadly. He heard when a soulmate dies young, their name disappears and is overwritten by another. Magnus will carry a new name, one that holds the future.
Tears run over Alec’s cheeks. He doesn’t bother brushing them away. He wants to feel them, wants to know he’s been alive for the last time as red tints the bathroom floor and a crimson line crosses out the name of the one he was meant to make happy.
He’s sure he will. By setting him free.
…
Alec opens his eyes, squints them against the onslaught of white. The monitor’s beeping hurts his head. A razor-sharp pain burns in his throat. He raises his hand but can only move it an inch before the restraint aborts his movement.
He opens his mouth to protest when reality kicks in and sadness washes over him.
‘No,’ he thinks and closes his eyes again. They found him. They shouldn’t have.
He moves his other hand to scratch his nose, but it is fixed just the same, mindful of the thick bandage covering his soulmate’s name.
His eyes roam the room and land on a stranger sitting in a chair, sleeping. His eyes are red and swollen, grey tear tracks covering his cheeks. He’s wearing scrubs.
Alec can’t pull his eyes off the sleeping man, the rising and falling of his chest, the colourful streaks in his hair, the nail polish glittering black.
He tries to read the man’s name on the tag, but his eyes are drier than his throat. He closes them. He doesn’t deserve beauty anyway.
Clothes are rustling and a body shifts, hands rub over itchy skin and then over Alec’s hand that had held the razor blade not too long ago.
Alec opens his eyes slowly, his gaze fixed on the calloused fingers caressing him. He whimpers, and warm eyes meet his dead ones.
A strained smile blooms on the stranger’s lips. “Hey, Alexander,” he says and brushes the hair out of Alec’s face. “How are you feeling?”
Alec fishes for words, but his tongue is stuck against the roof of his mouth. He swallows hard, then freezes. His eyes fix on the name tag, and he starts crying.
No, no, no!
“So sorry,” he croaks.
“It’s okay, Alexander. Your roommate found you just in time. Everything is going to be okay.”
Alec cries only harder. Magnus misunderstood. He’s not sorry for trying to leave this world. He’s sorry for not managing to save him from his fate. Now that he met him, there might be no new name blooming on his wrist.
Magnus fills a cup with water and holds it to Alec’s lips, gently cradling his head. Alec drinks. There’s no use in hurting his soulmate even more by denying his care.
Magnus smiles down at him.
“I sent your sister home. She needed some proper sleep. She’ll be back in the morning.”
Alec breathes a ragged sigh. “Izzy was here?”
Magnus brushes his fingers through Alec’s hair. “Of course. She was worried sick.”
Alec closes his eyes again. It’s all too much.
“As was I,” Magnus adds. “Meeting you in the shock room… Since I’ve been working in the ER I prayed not to meet my soulmate during a shift.”
Magnus’ voice wavers.
“You should have let me die,” Alec whispers.
A sob and the splatter of teardrops hitting his blanket make the guilt weigh even heavier on his chest.
“I tried to protect you,” Alec whimpers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t.”
“Don’t say that. I’m glad you’re still here. I’m glad I could meet you. Alexander, please look at me. We’re getting through this. Together.”
Alec huffs a mirthless laugh. “Look at me. This is not what you want nor what you deserve.”
“I’m looking at you, Alexander. And you’re everything I want. The angels put us together, and I won’t let this illness take you away from me.”
Alec opens his eyes and shakes his head. “Run, Magnus. Maybe it isn’t too late for you, yet.”
Magnus brushes a gentle thumb over Alec’s sunken cheek.
“Never,” he whispers. “All my life I waited to meet you, and I won’t lose you, now that I found the missing piece.”
He presses a tender kiss on Alec’s forehead. “Rest, my love. I’ll guard your sleep.”
Alec nods. He’s too tired to protest. Magnus will see reason, eventually.
…
“Ready?” Magnus asks, sticking his head through the slightly opened door.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Alec says and smiles.
“It brings ill luck to see the groom before the wedding,” Izzy exclaims and shoves Magnus out of the room.
Alec chuckles. “We used up our luck even before we met,” he quips and rights his jacket.
“Don’t say that,” Izzy scolds him softly.
“Why’s that?” Rafael asks.
Alec smiles at his son. “Papa saved Daddy’s life, and that’s how we met.”
“And then, Daddy fought hard to get as healthy as he is now,” Izzy explains, pride lacing the words.
Rafael throws his arms around Alec. “I’m happy Papa saved you.”
Alec smiles and squats down. “I’m happy he did, too.”
He brushes some dirt off his toddler’s cheek and sends him off with his aunt to take their places in the chapel.
Alec looks at his reflection in the mirror. He knows he still doesn’t see his true self in it, but that’s okay. He knows his mind deceives him sometimes. But the thin line crossing Magnus’ name on his skin tells another story. One of darkness and light, of grey shades and colour, of past and future.
Alec’s hand trembles as he traces the line tentatively. He smiles to himself. He’s glad Magnus stuck around, glad that he survived and is healing more with every passing day. He’s proud of the family they built and the promises they will give each other today.
He runs his fingers over his wedding ring. It grounds him immediately, makes his hand a bit more steady. He turns away from the mirror and takes a step, one closer to the man he loves and a room full of people, full of flowers and light.
As I lay in yet another hospital bed, hooked up to yet another set of IVs, I began to question whether I would ever manage to genuinely smile again. My whole life I had felt like a favorite puzzle, being put together only to be torn apart repeatedly. Tragedies had lined my early childhood, leading to many nights spent crying myself to sleep as a little girl. Adolescence brought along the onset of real depression, which was accompanied by a growing sense of hatred for myself. I wasn’t sure what specific events had lead to either of my recent suicide attempts. All I knew was that in the months leading up to them I had literally felt as if I was dying a little more each day. I’d lay in bed at night wondering how much longer I had left. I knew I was almost to my breaking point but I could care less. My soul was turning bitter for it had been filled with melancholy far too long. At one point I was so desperate for some sort of help that I wrote my mother a letter explaining my current state of mind to her. Her response was merely to schedule an appointment with some silly quack of a therapist. Day by day, I was sinking deeper into this abyss of darkness and I was beginning to feel as if there was no way out.
Warning: This chapter contains a fake suicide attempt. Please, don’t read if suicide is a trigger for you.
This update may be short, but honestly, it’s one of the most emotional ones for me. I cried while writing this chapter. Kes and Dorian are so precious to me, it hurts me to see them in such pain. Depression is also something that I struggle with, so that made writing this even more emotionally taxing for me.
The beautiful image at the beginning is from the wonderful @flavoredmagpie on Tumblr. It’s the Three of Swords tarot card which stands for heartache, grief, and sadness. Dorian’s trying to protect Kestrel from the swords’ damage, while Kestrel is poised to kiss Dorian goodbye. The hand around Kestrel’s neck is meant to trap. Dorian is desperate not to let him go. It’s a tragic card, and @flavoredmagpie did it justice. They were even able to add in the kestrel and peacock feather details. Please commission them if you’re able to! <3
If you haven’t had a chance, please check out the other artwork I’ve added to Chapter 1 & Chapter 37 of this fic, and the ones I’ve added to “Cicada’s Chorus” and “Everything You Want.” (I’m going crazy since I figured out how to add images to AO3 updates XD)
Kestrel stared at the small glass bottle in his palm, dancing light from the candelabra dancing through the green-tinted surface onto his bed. Soon, he thought, I’ll be free of here. Or dead. It doesn’t matter so long as Dorian is free again. Free of him. Free of the tethers of their relationship, of his race, of his former status. Green licked at the golden band around his finger. He thought about removing it, leaving it on the nightstand, but quickly discarded that thought. He’d have to give up on being with Dorian again, without even the slimmest of hopes of being reunited, but that didn’t mean he had to give up what they had, what they shared in time past. However short their reunion was, it was incredibly sweet. Even if his plan to fake his death failed tomorrow, and he ended up truly dying, he had those memories to hold on to as he slipped into the Void. Still, he owed it to Dalish not to give in to his buried, dark wish for the poison to be too strong. He needed to get the boy out of this torture house.
He flopped back onto his pillow and held the bottle aloft, liquid undulating with the sudden shift. Odd that such a small thing would determine the next stage of his existence. Kestrel lost himself in the green glass and the endless escapes reflected on its translucent surface. He knew sleep would elude him like every other night in this prison since his torture. At least the fantasies kept the hallucinations in the peripheral.
The night passed slowly, and even when morning finally came about, it was a gray and sullen thing. No sun breached the overcast skies from what Kestrel could tell through his opaque windows.
He eyed the food tray someone had deposited in his room in the early morning once he finally dozed, but left its contents untouched, too nervous about the day’s events. Next to the tray sat the poison and a noose crafted from his woven sheet. The noose was crude but would do the trick.
In the middle of the night, Kestrel thought about penning a letter to Dorian, except he had neither utensil nor paper. He then had the wonderful idea of carving his feelings into the table’s surface, but any words of comfort he’d thought of fell flat. All that hinted at his idea were a few shallow scratches along the dark wood.
He paced back and forth to ease his nerves, waiting for the light knock on his door from Dalish that would signal to drink the near-deadly draught. Time crawled, and just as Kestrel began to worry the knock would never come, a faint rapping sounded on his door. Three taps, a pause, and two more - their signal.
Taking a deep breath, Kestrel uncorked the bottle and swallowed its contents in one gulp without hesitation. There was no turning back now. The poison tasted bitter, but not unpleasant, like the wild greens his Clan used to collect in a nearby field.
Recalling the next step of his plan, he walked into the bathroom, stood on the bench over his chamber pot, and dropped the vial out the small window. He didn’t even hear it hit the ground below. Next, he tied the end of his makeshift noose to the top of his bedpost, securing it with a sturdy knot. Last, he slung the fabric over his head and around his neck. It hung loose for a moment before he worked the knot down. With a tug, he found the noose snug and secure and the bed frame sturdy.
Kestrel knew the next part would be the most difficult of his plan. While he wasn’t actually going to hang himself, he needed to make sure he looked like he had. That meant the appropriate bruising around his throat. And he needed to accomplish this before the poison took full effect. Already he noticed his vision blurring with too sudden a movement.
Another deep inhale and Kestrel threw himself opposite the bed. He heard the wooden frame groan in protest as the noose pulled taunt and yanked him backwards. Sputtering and grabbing his neck against the pain, he took only a moment to collect himself before flinging outward again. This time he stumbled and fell to the ground, nearly strangling himself in earnest. The noose was tied too high on the post to allow him close enough to the floor.
Panting with the effort and feeling like every muscle fought him, Kestrel pulled himself up so he could readjust the knot. It took several attempts as his fingers refused to cooperate, turning numb and gray from the poison. Strained breathing echoed in his pounding head, and he swallowed against a suddenly parched throat. With the poison running swiftly through his veins now, Kestrel carefully lowered himself down to the floor at the foot of the bed, granted just enough length of his tether to be allowed to sit. Then the world went black.
***
“Kestrel?” questioned a soft voice, forcing him to open his eyes. The sight before him was almost too much for him to wrap his mind around.
He sat on the floor, naked as usual these days, at the foot of the bed, noose around his pale, deathly gray face. Body listing to the side, his features were slack, eyes staring without seeing. So then how was he seeing everything before him now?
“Kestrel,” the voice said, more insistent this time.
He turned to the source, finding Cole standing next to him with a troubled expression.
“You’re close to the Veil. Your pain called me to you. I want to fix this, but I can’t,” he said, sounding sad. “You know this will hurt him. It will cause a hurt so deep-”
“Kes?” called Dorian, door opening.
Kestrel watched Dorian’s tentative smile fall as his eyes landed on his slumped over form.
“Kes!” he yelled, bolting over to Kestrel’s lifeless body.
Atronis trailed behind him, hands clasped tight.
Dorian made quick work of the noose, gentle even in his haste to remove the fabric from around Kestrel’s neck. Freed, Dorian cradled Kestrel to his chest, muttering through an already tear-stained face, “No, Kes. No, you can’t leave me like this. Anything but this.”
“He believes you’re dead, but you’re not. Almost not. Why do you lie to him? Why do you cause him pain if you love him?”
Kestrel ignored Cole’s questions, cupping his hand over his mouth as he watched Dorian kiss him, lips pressed firmly against his own. He felt nothing in this spirit form.
Dorian held the kiss even as his tears dropped from his cheeks onto Kestrel’s, as if he believed his will alone would be enough to bring Kestrel back to life, like a childhood fairytale where wishes and belief were enough to cause miracles. Such miracles remained a thing of myth as Kestrel failed to stir.
Kestrel watched with a breaking heart as Dorian held him close with one arm and slid Kestrel’s blank gaze closed with the other hand.
“I can’t even blame you, amatus . I put you in this situation, and you saw no other option out. I’m so sorry I failed you,” Dorian whispered, though his voice creaked and threatened to stop. He trailed his hand lightly over the bruising around Kestrel’s throat before drifting over his heart. “ Vishante kaffas !” he suddenly shouted, slamming his fist down hard on Kestrel’s chest, only to fall into a well of tears and cradle Kestrel close once more.
“Dorian,” Atronis said softly. “We should go. Your mother-”
Shaking his head, Dorian mumbled, “No, not without…” He trailed off, focusing on pulling the ring from Kestrel’s finger. Except it didn’t budge. He tried again, and again, and again. Finally, attempt abandoned, Dorian slumped against the bed. “Nothing? You leave me nothing to remember you by, amatus ?”
Kestrel fought back his own ghostly tears, struggling to keep himself rooted by Cole. Would Dorian feel his ghostly presence if he reached out? Then a thought came to him, spurred on by that one word. Nothing . Turning to his spirit friend, he pleaded, “Make him forget me, please. Without his memories of me, he won’t be sad. Leave him nothing to remember me by.”
Cole looked between the two of them. “Memories as big as those will leave a void too large to fill.”
“He doesn’t need it filled, just to forget, Cole. I’m begging you.”
“Would you forget him?”
Knowing where this was going, Kestrel sighed. “No. My memories are the only thing I have left of him now. I can’t give those up.”
Cole nodded his head in agreement. “I imagine Dorian will feel the same, once the blinding agony dies to a dull pain.”
Before Kestrel could argue with Cole further, Dalish rushed into the room, blue bottle in hand. Eyes wide, he was clearly surprised to find Dorian and Atronis still there. He quickly hid the bottle behind his back. “Oh no! What’s happened to Master Kestrel?” he asked, the question stilted with his play acting.
Dorian didn’t notice, murmuring, “He killed himself.” He ran his fingers through Kestrel’s hair in a loving caress.
Kestrel’s eyes followed Dorian’s hand, longing for his touch one final time.
“Dorian, we need to leave. You’ll be the first person to blame for his death.”
“But I can’t…I can’t leave him like this.”
Atronis sighed, growing frustrated. “Well, you can’t take him with you!” he snapped.
Dorian jolted as if physically slapped, but didn’t look away from Kestrel. “I should have. After Solas turned against us, after the Inquisition disbanded, if I’d just let him come with me from the start, we wouldn’t be here.” His voice hardened with each word, anger turned inward.
The scene before Kestrel blurred for a moment before refocusing.
“An antidote is needed soon,” Cole said from his side. “Otherwise his pain will be for nothing.”
Dalish shifted on his feet, eyes darting nervously around. He too realized time was running out to have the antidote administered.
“Come on, Pavus, your time is up. Mistress said only a few moments, but I knew you’d push-” Morven’s complaining stopped suddenly as he entered upon the scene from the hallway. “What the fuck…?”
“We found him like this, I swear!” Atronis spoke up.
Morven sneered. “Oh, I’m sure you did! Wait until Mistress sees what her precious son has done to her prized pet. Guard!” He stormed out of the room.
“Fuck,” Atronis and Kestrel said at the same time. This was exactly what they didn’t want to happen.
As they panicked, Dalish knelt before Dorian and asked, “May I see him? I promise I’ll give him right back.” He spoke softly, like speaking to a traumatized child.
Kestrel held his breath, or maybe that was the poison taking its toll on his lungs. The scene faded again, returning with a clear picture of Kestrel’s body in Dalish’s arms.
Dorian remained close, a near corpse himself at his lack of acknowledgement of anything but Kestrel. One of his hands still lingered on Kestrel’s chest, unwilling to separate.
“Dorian,” Atronis said, kneeling by his side and pulling on his shoulders. It was enough to drag Dorian’s attention to him, if only for a moment.
Still, it was long enough for Dalish to uncork the blue bottom and pour its contents into Kestrel’s mouth.
“We need to-”
“What are you doing to him?” Dorian said, snatching Kestrel’s body away from Dalish in the next heartbeat. He looked Kestrel over, but finding nothing amiss, he simply frowned at the boy.
“I’m sorry, Master Pavus. I was confirming his death.” Dalish rose to his feet and bowed before moving off to the side, toying with the hem of his shirt.
Now they had a different issue. The antidote took longer than the poison to work, but a lot needed to happen before Kestrel could come back to life, leaving them little time to accomplish everything with.
Cole asked, “Why do you torment each other? I don’t understand.”
Watching Dorian whisper against his cheek, Kestrel couldn’t look away when he responded. “This way he’ll be free of me, Cole. He’ll be able to live his life without me holding him back.”
“I thought you bright, but you are blind. He’ll never be free of you, because he doesn’t want to be,” Cole stated, disappointed. He shook his head, the wide brim of his hat flopping.
“All the more reason to make him forget, Cole!”
“Now you’re the one who does not understand. If I force his memories away, he’ll be left with nothing. You’ve filled him to the brim with hope, love, sadness, and despair. So many emotions tangled around you. If I pull you out, like a stopper in a basin, everything will rush out, leaving him empty. No, your ask creates more harm, more pain. I will not do it.”
Cole glanced at him, tension easing. “I hope one day you realize that you cause each other more happiness than pain,” he muttered.
Kestrel was left no time to rebut. Morven had returned with Aquinea, standing over Dorian as his judge and jury, yet Dorian didn’t even acknowledge them, still murmuring against Kestrel’s cheek. “We have to bury you, amatus . I remember the Dalish customs, I promise.”
“Morven, you really believe my son is to blame?” Aquinea asked, voice cold as her glare on him.
“I…I mean, who else could’ve caused this?” Morven stammered, flushing red under her studious stare.
“Do you not see the noose next to the slave’s body? Turns out you did break his mind, after all. No one has recovered from the red lyrium, it was a miss to think this elf could have beaten the odds. Now you’ve distressed my son.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth, admonishing Morven, even as she knelt besides Dorian.
Aquinea curled an arm around Dorian’s shoulder. “Come now, son. It is time you leave this body behind. His soul has moved on as should you.”
“Mother?” Dorian acknowledged through tear-stained cheeks, looking up at her.
“Yes, my boy. Let’s get you some food and brandy. It’ll soothe your heartache.” She looked over at Morven, saying, “You will see to the disposal of his body. This is, afterall, your fault.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Morven said with a bow, although Kestrel could see the irritation etched into his features, hidden from everyone else.
“Now, let go of him, Dorian,” Aquinea said with an air of command.
Dorian did as told, reacting more than thinking, as he latched on to what little motherly comfort Aquinea extended to him. He lowered Kestrel’s body to the floor and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and into Aquinea’s waiting arms. “There, there. This is just like when you were a boy and that carriage ran over your cat. You recovered well enough from that, you’ll be fine here too.”
Dorian numbly nodded, not hearing her words, but soaking in her soothing tone.
He broke through her spell once, latching on to Dalish’s shoulder. “Bury him with a staff and a cedar branch. And plant a tree over his body. Please.”
Dalish nodded quickly.
“Come now, son,” Aquinea said, pulling them apart. Arm still over Dorian’s shoulder, Aquinea escorted Dorian from the room.
Definitely not what they wanted.
Atronis glanced at Kestrel and then at Dalish.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Morven sneered. “Maybe you’ll actually stand a chance of getting into Pavus’ pants now that his pet elf is dead. There’s no one left to cockblock you.”
Atronis turned a furious red, and Kestrel thought he might actually punch Morven. Instead, his clenched fists stayed at his sides as he snarled, “Fuck off,” and stormed from the room.
Room cleared, Morven walked over to Kestrel’s body and landed a solid kick to his ribs. “That’s for leaving me with another mess of yours to clean up!” He kicked him again, and Dalish took a step forward, but stopped before he Morven noticed him. “That’s because your death should’ve been mine.” Morven spit on Kestrel. “And that’s because I’m glad you’re dead,” he whispered.
Stepping back, he turned his attention to Dalish. Nose wrinkled in disgust, Morven said, “Grab his body, boy. Be quick about it. I’d like to get him in the pit before he shits himself.”
I realized my best friend and I are not talking / seeing other like we used to. I used to know everything about her and she used to know everything about me. We used to spend all our time together. I used to go at her house every weekend. She used to come to my house every day. We used to call each other during hours. Whenever I had something to say, I knew I could tell her. I knew I could count on her, day and night.
But now, she’s never available to see me. Now, whenever I call her, she never answers. Now, whenever I text her, it always seems like she’s busy.She’s barely replying to me. She basically just answers “yes” , “no”, “ok” , “idk”, or “nothing new”, while I’m trying so hard to make a conversation. I swear, I’m really trying to preserve our friendshipbutshe is not.
I remember the time i didn’t need to do that. We didn’t need to make effort. We didn’t need to “try”. We were just friends. We didn’t need that shit.
But today, I learnt she was engaged with her boyfriend for MONTHS. Months and she hasn’t told me anything! And she wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t texted her and asked her multiple questions…
I used to be her best friend. Her best friend. Our friendship meant so much to me and now it’s just fading away and there’s nothing I can do to stop that. It’s already happening. We used to share everything in this world. We used to be like sisters. And it changed. And it made me feel so sad.
I love when people say “just talk with your parents about your mental illness, they’ll understand and they’ll be able to help you!”.
Yesterday, I mentioned that one of my friends might be having a depression. You know what they said? “Oh, God, don’t you dare doing that to us too!” THAT was my mom’s reaction. And my stepfather just nodded and added “Please, we already have enough troubles!”
So I don’t know why, but no, I’m not really looking forward to have that conversation with them…
Trigger Warning: suicide; self-harm; drug addiction/overdose; domestic violence; body dysmorphia
What I am about to share with you is the story of how I attempted to take my life….how close I came….and exactly what came out of it. Please be advised I do mention the above topics. If any of these topics are triggering, please do not continue.
I am always open to provide an ear, advice, or a virtual hug.
I love you all, please enjoy.
I have struggled with mental illness most of my life. Being raised in a house-hold of poor coping mechanisms, substance abuse and domestic violence didn’t necessarily set me up for success; or assist in the seriousness of my illness either. However, what it did do was help set me up for a series of obstacles I would inevitably be blessed to face and overcome…as well as provide me with copious tools in my life tool-belt that I can apply to a wide variety of situations.
At a young age I was molested by my father’s best friend. Additionally I have been a victim of domestic violence, rape, as well as navigating through a family plagued by alcoholism. My family as a unit has faced seemingly impossible situations that have forever shattered the fragile glass that holds the family unit at such high regard and protects it from the ugliness of broken individuals who are bonded by blood gone sour, yet desperately grasping at their instinctual loyalty and love.
Most children in these types of homes, who have gone through these types of traumas/crises would find solace in school with their friends. For me? School was equally as unbearable due to my weight. I was the fat girl….
I paint for you a picture of an extremely broken, vulnerable, self loathing young woman. A young woman who held no self respect and acted as a carpet to those around her. She suffered from panic attacks, anxiety, mood swings…..she cut to take the pain away. Her search for an outlet to the pain was tiresome as she would literally jump through hoops just to drag a sharp edge across her skin…..razors, scissors, knives…..paper clips…..broken bobby pins….
The above description was my foundation - those were the values I had of myself to walk into adulthood with. I could not cope, I hated who I was as a person, and I was so desperate to find a place where I was loved that I made a three year poor series of choices that eventually lead to rape, addiction, an abusive relationship, witness to severe animal abuse, and financial devastation.
July of 2017 was the end of the insanity that had become my life. I made the decision to move back home to a chaos I was used to and knew how to work through rather chaos I was unfamiliar with and had no clue how to handle…
July of 2017 I became suicidal and checked myself into a hospital. The sudden haul of the chaos became unbearable. I was broken. I was battered. I was hopeless.
August of 2017 I am released from the hospital and I am prospering. I have a fantastic job making fantastic money. I am happier than I have ever been. Life is finally good. I am making good choices…I am on cloud nine.
November of 2017 my mother’s dachshund gets out of the front door and begins to run towards the highway. My mother and I chased him a mile and a half down the busy main road we live off of. I am in heels because I was about to go and buy a car, and she was in shoes that weren’t tied and flopping off of her feet….I trip, fall, and break my foot. I am now out of work until January of 2018.
December of 2017 I am sinking deeper into my depression. There has been yet another drastic change in my life and I have no income. I have a car I need to pay, I can’t work due to the severity of my injury…and I am being targeted by my family. Four people in a house. Four people who need their space from each other or else situations become volatile quickly. At this point I feel as though I am absolutely nothing. I am unimportant, and with everything I have endured in my life….and with everything that I have failed at….I would be better off dead. I am an ugly….fat…worthless nothing.
January 3, 2018 I wake up in the critical care unit. I am restrained to the table with leather restraints and there are tubes in my throat. I look around and begin to panic. A nurse comes in and lets me know that my mother and brother had just left - they were with me all night…My aunt was in the waiting room….she came to take their place. The nurse removed my tubes and more nurses came in to take off my restraints and help to get me more comfortable…..My aunt came in…..
“How are you?” “I’m………I woke up.” “Yes you did.” she began to cry “I woke up…..but I wanted to die…”
At 11:30 p.m. on January 2, 2018 I ingested over 250 pills. My cocktail consisted on a variety of psychiatric medications as well as benzos. I barricaded myself in my bedroom with my dog and my cat and cuddled them as I swallowed each bottle of medication. I did not leave a note. I sent one simple text message to my best friend simply saying I love you at an inconspicuous time of night as to not be suspicious and actively began consuming medication I knew would kill me in an attempt to end my life. I was doing it. I was finally about to escape all of my pain and no longer have to worry about life. I didn’t have to keep running from this black cloud that has plagued me for so long.
In the last moments I remember before I closed my eyes as I laid in my dirty bedroom I could not bring myself to clean, unshowered from my crippling depression, I did think about my loved ones - human and fur. I thought about them barging into my bedroom to find me dead….I thought about the pain they would endure knowing I died under their roof, partially due to them and their abuse. I thought about leaving my brother behind as well as my biological family I had just gotten in contact with and my new nieces and nephews……….I thought about not seeing my dog and cat again for a very long time. But, I also thought about every bad thing that has ever happened to me….and every bad decision I have ever made. I even thought about conversations I had with people over a decade ago and what I would have said different….I thought about silly things I did as a kid and asked myself why I did them. My entire life flashed before my eyes as I simultaneously remained mindful of the moment I was in. It is as if I was existing in two bodies at that time. I cried until I felt the medication begin to make me sleepy…..I looked at my dog and my cat and hugged them….I apologized to them….I told them I loved them and I nuzzled up to them….it was time.
It wasn’t until I finally saw my mother later that day that I heard the rest of the story. I have no memory of what happened from the time I blacked out from the overdose to when I woke up in the CCU.
My dog Kaleb began to scream from my bedroom and furiously scratched at my door. his screaming and scratching woke my mother up from her bedroom across the hall…she said she knew something was wrong and attempted to get into my bedroom. My door was barricaded so she couldn’t get in. I apparently came to the bedroom door to move the chest that was in front and met her at the door. She said my eyes were closed - they never opened. I slurred my words and told her to leave me alone and attempted to continue to walk towards her. She said I couldn’t stand straight and was practically falling down.
“I screamed for your father and told him there was something wrong. I ran into your room and found your empty bottles. I knew you were overdosing and I screamed that you were overdosing. Your father came up the stairs and began to scream. Moments later your brother came home and as soon as he came in the door he ran upstairs because he heard us pleading with you. You were combative. You wanted no one to touch you. Anthony helped me get you dressed and down into the car. I began to drive you to the hospital and Anthony was going to meet me there after he got changed and grabbed a few things for us…..but you began to drift in and out….I couldn’t keep you awake.”
My mother pulled over into an apartment complex and called 911. She let them know that I was overdosing in a suicide attempt and that she needed an ambulance. Moments later the police arrived as the first responders. They put me on oxygen and rubbed my chest hard in an attempt to keep me conscious. My eyes still never opened….but I would “come to” and try to get up and out of the car….swinging blindly at the police. The ambulance then arrived and the EMTs attempted to get me into the ambulance. My mother told me that I continued to kick/bite/punch. Four EMTs attempted to hold me down and treat me in the back of the ambulance…
“When they got you into the ER they asked me what you took and I only knew the one medication…they started to do all of these tests and started to pump your stomach. You just kept hitting and hitting and hitting. They tried to restrain you and you broke out of the soft restraints so then they switched to the leather and sedated you……but then you really started to go down hill. You weren’t breathing properly and you lost your gag reflex……that is when they decided to induce you and they put you into a coma. The doctor told me that you probably weren’t going to make it….and I dropped.”
My mother and my brother sat in the critical care unit with me that entire night….they prayed over me…..my brother held my hand and rubbed my arm as he cried and begged for me not to leave him. They asked me why I had done this and blamed themselves. They questioned where things went wrong and what they could have done to make things go right. They were waiting for me to die….they left once the clock hit 8 a.m. and my aunt came to take their place so they could get some sleep…
I woke up.
The first thing I thought of when I woke up was I woke up….and I was angry. I failed yet again and now needed to face my family as well as the consequences of my actions. Physically I was exhausted - my lung had collapsed, my pancreas was inflamed, I was withdrawing, and I was recovering from a medically induced coma as well as a ventilator. Emotionally I was broken - I had just attempted to end my life and I failed.
I spent a week in the psychiatric ward once I was released from the medical hospital for my attempt. After that I began an intensive therapy program and started on a daily regime of medication that ultimately helped me remain stable and that I couldn’t overdose on again.
My mother and brother have PTSD from this experience….they claim they forgive me, but the damage that I have done is damage I can only apologize for…I can never repair this. This will never go away. I have a permanent scar on my lung from when I aspirated and it collapsed…and I must say….I have suffered an extreme personality change which my doctor associates with the overdose and the effects on my brain and its chemistry.
It is now July of 2018…and I am battling cancer. It has been seven months since my attempt…and in seven months I have gone from wanting to end my life…..and attempting to end my life…to now having a value for my life and actually fighting for it…in seven months.
All of the problems that I had before my suicide attempt are still here. Every mistake, every consequence for every action….I still live at home in a toxic environment…..nothing about my situation has changed in the slightest….but what has changed is my perspective.
Life is a series of peaks and valleys…the peaks are life’s highest points and are addictive…the valleys are life’s lowest points and can be deadly. Our mission is to navigate through these peaks and valleys as if they were equal. We are to be thankful for the valleys and treat them as important as the peaks….for we can only celebrate lavishly if we have survived the deepest of hardships. You cannot have good without bad…and you cannot have bad without good - they are uniquely one.
Hello to my beautiful followers; both new and old.
It has been so long since I have posted, and I apologize.
It has been quite a tumultuous time since I have last posted. So much has happened so frequently and….I have coped so poorly….but I have survived, and I am so proud to say that I am alive. I will be posting about some of the events that have happened: sexual harassment at work, a broken foot that ultimately lead to a suicide attempt, psychiatric hospital stays. an assault at work by a client, my parents divorce, and cancer.
Yes, cancer. Super fun and great, right?
How about we talk about my weight loss…since this is technically a weight loss blog….but ultimately, I guess you can say that a weight loss blog really is a life blog considering life effects weight…..medical issues affect weight….medication effects weight.
I had gotten down to about 145 lbs. I felt fantastic and was finally so comfortable with my body. I was also approved for a panniculectomy (which will be happening at some point in time…however, due to other events, it cannot be performed at this time…there are other issues that are holding precedence over the panniculectomy).
I did notice that I began to gain weight again…I was always tired, exhausted….and then, I was attacked by one of my clients at work; twice within a month and two days…and ultimately ended up having a CT Scan which showed she fractured one of my vertebrae and bulged one of my discs……severe muscle and ligament damage…..and also nodules on my thyroid…..so not only am I injured, but I have weird things coming back on my CT scan….I’m FREAKING out at this point………SO - they tell me to get an ultrasound on my thyroid, and I did physical therapy for my injuries (and a lawsuit).
I get the ultrasound……and my doctor then decides he wants a biopsy because there are multiple nodules and they look “suspicious.” Still gaining weight at this point - I’ve been bouncing from 175-185…….AND then I get the biopsy - FNA - FUCK WHAT YOU HEARD CAUSE THEY HURT. LEMMMMME TELL YOU! My doctor probably didn’t give me enough lidocane but JESUS he was jamming needles in my neck and digging and LORD. I had a panic attack. It was a bilateral FNA on two nodules…four needles in each nodule they biopsied and it isn’t quick okay they did. I had a massive panic attack and the nurse put a cold wash cloth on my head and then I lost my eyebrows. Great bruises after that too…..
Two days later I was diagnosed with cancer. I am currently awaiting results on the other tumor in my neck - may be bilateral papillary thyroid cancer…but at this point it doesn’t matter due to the size of the other tumor and it’s internal components (calcifications).
I will be getting a total thyroidectomy in a few weeks and be in the hospital for 10 days due to my bleeding complications (think back to my gastric bypass surgery and the massive internal bleed I suffered. That story can be found on my weight loss resources page [link at the top])
SOOOOOOOOOOOOO. IN CONCLUSION.
My weight loss has been fabulous, but halted due to cancer (and psych. meds but I’ll tell you about that in my post about my suicide attemptt). My thyroid is no longer working properly and it is causing weight gain as well as a bunch of other symptoms that make completing daily tasks exhausting.
I am three years out and so thankful for this surgery. I have completely changed my eating habits and my life. It has taught me how to love my body and myself at any weight…I have been all over the map….and as I sit here and type this out, I am a chunky little nugget and that’s okay. I am beautiful no matter what.
I again apologize for my absence.
More life stories coming soon <3
p.s. I chopped all of my hair off, dyed it blue, cut it shorter….shaved my sides into a fade…..got box braids…ya know.
