Chapter 8 - Cooper
As I exit the shower, I stare at the mirror.
A stranger stares back at me. The smile that used to come so easily is nowhere to be seen.
It’s been years since a genuine smile has turned my lips up from their natural downturn.
If not for the need to pretend that I’m fine, I might have forgotten how to smile altogether.
??
Now all I see is him. My body no longer belongs to me.
The face staring back at me is his to shove into a pillow.
The throat that bobs with each breath taken is his to choke.
The shoulders that always seem to curl inward are his to bite.
The chest that houses the blackened organ once known as a heart has been marked so many times his DNA is embedded in the skin.
Scars litter the arms and torso of the man in the mirror.
Some were done by his own hand, but far more were left behind by him.
His mark. His ownership. His destruction.
There is not a single patch of skin that hasn't been ruined by the memory of him.
My fist slams into the mirror before I even realize that I’m moving.
I stare unfocused at the shattered glass, lost to the memories.
I only resurface when a pinprick of pain draws my attention to where my fist is applying more pressure, and I zero in on the spreading cracks.
I’m tired. So very tired. I’ve done the therapy thing.
I’ve leaned far too heavily on my sole friend.
There isn’t a substance that I haven’t tried in an attempt to numb the pain. Nothing works.
There is no cure.
No freedom.
No escape.
Except one, my brain whispers seductively, and even though I swore I’d never end up here again, I listen.
I grab the bottle from the medicine cabinet before retreating to my bedroom.
I sit on the end of my bed, not caring that I’m still wet.
Soon enough, I won’t be capable of being grossed out by the feeling of wet sheets.
Scooting back until my back meets the headboard, I stare at the orange bottle.
Lexapro, Buspirone, Zoloft, Prozac. You name it, I’ve tried it.
My current one is Effexor. Right now, the only effects I’m looking for are the permanent kind.
Ignoring the tremors running through my body, I begin to pour the pills out into my hand, but I pause when Max’s face flashes through my mind.
The one bright spot in my world. Max has saved my life time and time again.
I can’t repay her this way. She needs to be free of me.
Free to finally live a full life without me dragging her down with the weight of my misery.
She can’t be the one to find me. I can’t hurt her that way.
Losing me will hurt for a while. Eventually, though, she will see that she’s better off.
But finding me? That’s a different kind of pain.
A kind that traumatizes and lingers. Max deserves so much better than that.
Replacing the pills, I scoot back to the edge of the bed before standing and crossing over to my dresser.
Without even bothering to take note of what I’m wearing, I throw on the first hoodie and pair of joggers that my hand touches.
It’s not like it matters. I pull out the letter that I wrote years ago from my top drawer.
A single tear slips down my face as I rub my thumb across the word written on the outside of the envelope: Maxine.
Reverently, I leave the letter on my bed.
My keys, my phone, and the bottle of medicine are the only things I take with me.
Pulling into the parking lot of Kingston General, I feel a slight lifting of the weight that had long ago taken up permanent residence on my shoulders. I park towards the back of the lot. I won’t make the people who are actually looking for help walk any farther than they have to.
Once I’m parked, I pick up the medication bottle and the neon green soda bottle.
Because I’m an absolute slut for Mountain Dew, I bought a two-liter.
Don’t judge me. I might as well go out with a bang.
I choke down the entire bottle of pills and finish what’s left of my soda.
Taking some time to reflect, I scroll through the eight years of photos that Max and I have taken. I really will miss her.
Needing to hear her voice one last time, I scroll to her contact and hit the call icon.
When the call connects, I’m surprised by the heavy club music that blasts my eardrum.
She got off of work hours ago, and I just knew she’d be in her hotel room, curled up with some snacks and her Kindle by now.
Her coworkers must’ve convinced her to go out for once. That’s good. Real good.
“Hey babes! It’s too loud in here. I can’t really talk, but I’ll call you back later tonight as soon as I get to the hotel. Love you!” Max shouts into the phone.
“Love you, too,” I shout back before the line disconnects.
Honestly, that was the perfect call. If we had been able to have an actual conversation, Max would have immediately known that something is wrong.
The girl is like a bloodhound when it comes to my emotions.
Exchanging I love yous one last time is what I needed most. I slide my phone into my pocket before I exit the car.
The lady behind the reception desk smiles at me as I approach. A small lift of the right side of my mouth is all I have to offer in return. I take note of her name tag as she begins to speak.
“Welcome to Kingston General. What seems to be the problem tonight?” Abigail asks.
I freeze, not having thought this far ahead.
Racking my brain, I try to come up with a reason.
Max has made me watch enough medical dramas to know that I can’t complain about anything too serious, or they’ll get to me too soon.
Shit. I should have just stayed in the car, but I didn’t want to traumatize some poor unsuspecting person by leaving my body for them to find.
“Um…stomach pain?” I mumble as I sign in on the clipboard she placed in front of me.
“Right…” Abigail says with an air of disbelief, and honestly I can’t blame her.
“Well, as you can see, we’re pretty full up right now, but if you have a seat, someone’ll be out to check you in.
We’ll get you seen as soon as possible.” Her smile is much smaller this time as she turns back to her computer, effectively dismissing me.
A few minutes pass before a nurse calls my name.
She takes me to a small cubicle, where she takes my vitals and asks about my symptoms. Five minutes later, I’m back in my previously vacated chair.
Thankfully, none of the answers I provided marked me as urgent.
I’m grateful the ER is busy tonight. People-watching has always been one of my favorite ways to pass the time.
I’m so caught up in watching others that I’m not sure how much time has passed when I notice my stomach starting to roil and sweat beading my forehead.
I pull up my hood, trying to avoid drawing any attention.
Just a little longer. I take my phone out and start playing a game, needing an excuse to hide my face.
Hopefully, nobody notices the way my hands are shaking.
My phone starts to vibrate, and Max's smiling face takes over the screen. My heart skips a beat at the sight, begging me to answer. Instead, I press ignore and shove the device into my pocket. Seconds later, my world goes dark.