Shaken and Tried

(Jacks POV)

Beep Beep Beep
The only thing keeping me going.

Beep Beep Beep

He promised me.

Beep Beep Beep

Why is he not awake yet?

Beep Beep Beep

“Jack honey, don't you think you should get something to eat? I'll watch him for a little while,” Isobel Gaskarth's lightly accented voice rings through the room.
I shake my head, I'm not hungry. I haven't eaten since Alex was admitted 32 hours ago. I was so lucky he texted me, so lucky I could tell something was wrong and steal my mom's car to drive to his rescue. Not so lucky to see his lifeless, blood covered body lying on his bathroom floor. The doctors said I made it just in time. If it was any longer he'd surely be dead, but he's expected to wake up anytime now. They said it was an obvious suicide attempt. Alcohol, pills and cuts, everything you'd need to die. I never thought he'd actually do it. Sure, I could tell he was depressed but not this much so. He said he loved me, and I said it back. We said it back and forth so many times since that day, but what do we have now? Did he even mean it? Surely if he meant it he wouldn't have done this. You wouldn't do this to someone you love. He was drunk. I try to remind my self, but still.

I twirl the newly dyed dark brown pieces of hair in my fingers and hold his hand with my free one. It's weird not feeling him hold back. It kills me. I watch as a tear makes its way down my over-sized nose and on to the sheets. I feel a frail hand wrap around my shoulder and snap my head up to see Isobel smiling sadly above me. She didn't say anything so we just sit there crying together. Isobel and Peter both didn't take the news very well. They woke up late Christmas night to the sounds of my screams from the bathroom above them. They had both ran in in their night clothes to see me and Alex on the floor, him in my lap and me holding him against my chest with his still flowing blood soaking my pants and tears running down my face. He was so limp in my lap, it still crushes me to remember it. I can't imagine how hard it was for them to find out how lost their son truly was. Not only did he have the two deep gashes on each arm, but they were surrounded with other smaller scars up to his elbow. They were confused to say the least. They thought they did everything they could for him, gave him everything he asked for, and for that I was a little angry. Can't they realize material possessions don't halt the effects of depression? After me explaining the motivations that could surrounded the attempt and how he usually talked or thought, they had prescribed him two different antidepressants that I knew he wouldn't take no matter how bad I wanted him to. After my 'suicide attempt' which was really and truly an accident they prescribed me one and I took it for a few weeks before realizing it didn't do anything. I'm not depressed, just apathetic, and I don't think there's a medicine for that so I guess I'm screwed.

Rian and Zack visited for about two hours today after I called them before letting me and Alex be alone. They were obviously upset and asked how they could have never noticed how sad their best friend was. It made me feel bad that I hadn't told them, but the assured me that they don't blame me for keeping it a secret. It's just what a good friend would do.

I wonder what would have happened if he succeed. I'd be crushed, lost and I can't easily say I'd have survived it. I would have been more than apathetic, I'd be depressed for sure. I wouldn't leave bed, I wouldn't eat. I wouldn't seek any company but that of my blade. I surely wouldn't have found someone else to love anytime soon, if ever. Alex is irreplaceable. I'm speaking from the mind of a love-sick teenager, but no one comes near him. He's perfect. He's beautiful. The way his hair sweeps perfectly in front of his toffee eyes. The way his hips barely curve in and the way the bones pops out, perfect for kissing and sucking. The way his legs go on for miles, I wish he could see it. He doesn't see himself the way I do. He doesn't see it when he's smiling, really smiling, and his eyes light up, or the way his cheeks grow pink when I tell him he's beautiful. He doesn't see himself when he first wakes up and his hair is in his face and eyes barely peeking open. He doesn't see it when he's sleeping and his mouth just barely opens or his bright pink lips when they're done kissing mine. He doesn't see half of what I do.

Isobel had left to go home with Peter to sleep but I refuse to leave. The nurses decided not to make me given the depressing circumstances, but I can't get in the way when they do their various tests and scans. I slip my hand from his and stoke up and down the bandages on each arm. They had to do so much when he first came in. It felt like forever until they called our names to come see him. I spent too long perched on those cold plastic chairs. Pacing back and forth, just waiting for the message. Did he make it? I cried myself dry waiting until they finally called our names. They had to pump his stomach and stitch up each arm, 12 stitches in each. I wonder how he even got the strength to press so deep for so long. The cuts were jagged, showing that he was very shaky when he did it. I can only imagine what was going through his mind when he did it. Did he think of me at all? He must of because the last thing he did was text me.
I want him to wake up so badly. I want to tell him I love him over and over again. I want to see those bright eyes stare back at mine. I want his rough hand to reach out and wipe the tears off my cheek and tell me everything's okay. I just want him to be okay.

Please wake up Alex.

Notes

im the worst

~Don't forget to comment so can see how you like it, I love you guys tons and tons~

Also, I've started a new story! The prologue is up now and regular updates will start after christmas! Heres the link ----> http://www.alltimelowfanfiction.com/Story/27767/Will-You-Be-There-to-Carry-Her-Home/