#hospitalize me if I express suicidal thoughts thing

[meezer]

the more I think about my therapist the angrier and more bitter I feel. when we were talking about how my trauma affects me in the current day we exclusively talked about how I'm scared of men and I'm not having sex. maybe it's just me but I feel like things like constant nightmares and hypervigilance and non-stop anxiety affect my life more than the fact that I'm not having sex. but what do I know

[chronicowboy]

but when i tried to love him i loved at the wrong time

this is a two for one spec inspired by this post and my long lost love trapped dads

any complaints about this fic can and should be directed to @evankinard who bullied me into writing this for her after i ruined her day with a single dm. love you bby <3

Eddie breaks apart a little the moment Buck disappears from view, lets himself feel the wound in his side as an excuse not to feel the big unwieldy thing unfolding in his chest like a colonising panic. He hadn't wanted to leave him, not after half an hour trapped in that smoky room clinging to each other to ground themselves in the reality they were trapped in, but Buck had made several stubborn and convincing arguments about Christopher before announcing he wouldn't move if Eddie didn't. Eddie had tried, had tried to get Buck out first, Buck who had just found happiness with—with Tommy, Buck who has always deserved to live. But Hen and Chim had come in with the clinical wisdom of paramedics and said a rebar through the abdomen was always going to take priority over a fractured leg.

Now, Eddie is rolled out of a collapsing building, leaving behind Buck—a bird with a broken wing, incapable of moving.

God, the noises Buck had made when he'd dragged himself over to Eddie's side. They'll be haunting him for years, for whatever lifetime he has left. Worse somehow than the first time with an entire engine on top of him. Except this time, Eddie couldn't hold his hand. Not now, but not before either because... Because that was someone else's job now. And like a laugh from the universe, Tommy appears just as Eddie reaches down to put the brakes on the gurney before Hen and Chim can get him into the ambulance.

"Kinard?" Bobby greets him with a grim-faced nod. "What are you doing here?"

"Heard you might need an assist from air support." He shrugs, but the breathlessness in the voice and the way his eyes keep jumping around the gathered 118 like he's only counting the one man not there reveals his nonchalance as the act it is. "Thought I'd swing by."

"Isn't that a conflict of interest?" Chimney asks.

"Fine, so I stole a helicopter again. Sue me for wanting to offer a hand." Tommy's face draws as soon as he stops speaking, and he glances back at the building waiting to swallow Eddie's heart whole. "How is he?"

"Holding in there," Eddie answers, voice tight enough to have Tommy really seeing him for the first time. "Think his bad leg is fractured."

"Shit," Tommy hisses, clenching his fists at his side.

"Yeah," Eddie breathes out. "Can't get himself out because of it. I wouldn't have left him, but—"

"He insisted," Tommy says, something entirely too knowing in his voice and his eyes. Eddie swallows thickly.

"And, well..." He gestures weakly to the rebar in his side, Buck's undershirt, now soaked through with Eddie's blood, wrapped around it as a makeshift bandage.

"Shit, Diaz." Tommy grimaces. "Shouldn't you be getting to the hospital?"

"He's refusing care until Buck is out too," Hen deadpans, pressing a new pad of gauze to his wound a little too firmly for it not to be intentional. Eddie just grits his teeth.

"Of course he is," Tommy murmurs. Eddie is too much of a coward to face up to whatever expression is on Tommy's face when he says it, so instead he focuses on the Incident Commander approaching Bobby.

"Site's been deemed too unstable," he announces. "No more personnel are to enter until we've found a way to stabilise it."

"My..." Bobby calms himself when his voice comes out in a growl. "My man is in there."

"And sending another man in there would be a suicide mission." The Incident Commander grimaces apologetically. "Sorry, Captain. That's an order."

Bobby turns his gaze back to the building, something so tightly drawn in him that it makes Eddie hurt all the worse. He knows without a shadow of a doubt what Bobby's thinking. He can't lose another son to a burning building.

And here, maybe this would be where Eddie runs back into the building and drags Buck out all on his own, maybe this would be where he finally gets to repay the favour for the gravel burn on his back, maybe this is where he'd get to redeem himself from the helplessness he'd felt just lowering Buck down to the ground. Except. There's a rebar in his side. Even with the adrenaline, even with the love... Eddie doesn't think he'd make it three steps before falling to his knees—a prayer in and of itself.

Instead, Eddie turns to look at Tommy. Tommy who is already looking at him, something determined and understanding and loving trapped behind the wildness of his eyes. A beat passes between them, silence saying more than they ever could.

"Bring him back to—" Me. But. Not to me.

Because that's not Eddie's place anymore. Eddie doesn't get to ask that of Buck's boyfriend. Eddie doesn't get to ask that at all. He's no longer the person that will be shaking Buck's pain pills into his hand and fetching him a bottle of water. He's no longer the person that will be wrapping Buck's cast in a bin bag for a shower and listening to him lament about the indignity of it. He's no longer the person that will be pulling Buck out of bed on his worst days to remind him that he's real and valued and loved. No, that's not his job anymore. But, fuck, Tommy's the only better man for the job.

"Bring him back to us," Eddie tells him then, and it feels like he's finally let go of the baton in the relay race, sure Tommy's got a hold of it now. And Tommy looks as wrongfooted by this as Eddie feels, but he nods anyway and grabs Eddie's discarded helmet from his lap, strapping it on.

"Kinard, no one goes in," Bobby warns him. "That's an order."

"You're not my captain anymore." Tommy only smiles and shrugs before sprinting towards the doors.

Bobby curses, but there's relief in it. Hen and Chim just watch him go with something hopeful on their faces. And Eddie. Eddie's eyes start to droop.

"Hey, hey, Eddie." Chim snaps his fingers in front of his face, jolting Eddie back into semi-consciousness.

"Eddie, we need to get you to a hospital," Hen says calmly, reaching for the brakes.

"Move me an inch and I rip this rebar out of my side," he says lowly.

"Jesus, anyone ever tell you you're a drama queen?" Chim huffs.

"Yeah." Eddie chokes on his next breath a little. "The man trapped in that building."

A solemn silence settles over them then. They redirect their attention to the doors Tommy had disappeared into, and Hen lays a grounding hand on his shoulder as they wait.

It's not long before Tommy comes stumbling out of the building, looking every bit the action hero Eddie has never gotten to be for Buck what with his soot-stained face and Buck himself slung over his shoulder, splinted leg bouncing against his sternum. Hen and Bobby spring into action immediately, racing to meet them. Chim just unlocks Eddie's gurney and loads him into the ambulance, raising him up just enough to catch a perfect view of Tommy lowering Buck onto his own stretcher with a kiss to his forehead. The ambulance doors close, Chim knocks twice, the sirens begin to whine, and they lurch into motion.

"Did you draw the drama queen straw?" Eddie asks to distract himself from the tenderness of Tommy's kiss.

"Higher ups are a little more serious about conflicts of interest now Buck is officially my brother-in-law," Chim mumbles as he works on getting Eddie's IV in. "But also I'm better acquainted with rebars than Hen, so..."

Eddie huffs a weak laugh as his eyes drift to the ceiling, the clean white of it stinging his eyes.

"Chim?"

"Yeah?"

"Tomorrow isn't promised to anyone, right?" he chokes out. He doesn't take his eyes off the ceiling, but the sudden silence in the ambulance is as deafening as the siren overhead.

"No," Chim says eventually. "No, it's not."

"But what happens if the person you love..." Here, his voice breaks. An almighty crack right through the middle. It sounds like the building behind them just came crumbling down in his throat. "What happens if someone told them first?" He turns to face Chim's wide eyes. "Should you still tell them?"

"I-I don't know..." Chim opens his mouth a few times, a fish out of water, before he makes a decision. He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. "But what I do know is." He clears his throat. "If you let a wound like that fester... It'll kill you, Eddie."

"Yeah." Eddie lets his eyes fall shut.

I can feel it already.

[stellar-constellations]

Star Patient: Chapter 9 (FINISHED SERIES, final chapter)

        

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), descriptions of self-harming, accusations of cheating, child death, death of major and minor characters, OC's are used throughout the story for plot and depth, reader is in denial and paranoid, toxic family dynamics, perversive thoughts, reader is bipolar (not saying that in a quirky way, like literally bipolar), religious comparisons, light mention of demons, stalkers, nonconsensual drugging, minor implication of necrophilia, possibly more to add.

Inaccurate canon-timeline and setting (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents). They also live in America (because I wasn't aware they lived in Europe prior to this series).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 14,100+ words

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, final chapter (current).

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

        (Y/N) arrived at the hospital feeling refreshed for the first time in a long while. She’s had a couple weeks to heal from her accident, and she was paid the whole time too! 

        Now she’s back at work and ready to get back to it. She fixed the star patterned lanyard around her neck and fixed her undershirt’s long sleeves. 

        She exited her car and locked the door, walking into the hospital lobby. She walked to the elevators and pressed the button for pediatrics. When the doors opened, she left the elevator and walked into the staff room, checking in. 

        She made her way to Doctor Ryan’s office and waited a moment to make sure there was no patient in the room before knocking. The door opened as Doctor Ryan’s head peeked out, a confused expression on his face before his eyes widened.

        “Oh my god! Hey!” he smiled, quickly opening the door all the way. “Come on in!”

        “Hi, sir.” (Y/N) smiled. “I’m back and ready to work!”

        “That’s great! These weeks felt so strange without you.” Doctor Ryan spoke. “Do you understand how hard it is to try and talk with Ruby? God, she bores me.” He groaned, causing (Y/N) to laugh.

        “Yeah. Ruby’s just Ruby.” (Y/N) smiled.

        “So, how are you feeling?” he questioned. “You’ve had enough time to heal up, right?”

        “Yep.” (Y/N) nodded, smiling. “I’m perfectly fine! I’ll be having my staples and stitches removed after work today.”

        “That’s great to hear!” Doctor Ryan beamed. “Just take it easy, okay? Don’t go lifting any heavy things like chairs or stuff; I can do that. And take some sitting breaks.”

        “I’m fine, it wasn’t that bad.” (Y/N) reassured, albeit she did feel warm inside knowing her superior was worried about her. “It stopped hurting after a few days, so it was just letting the wounds heal over.” She lied.

        “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Doctor Ryan smiled. “Oh, before I forget!”

        He moved over to his counter, bending down and unlocking the lock on the cabinet before opening it, pulling out a basket. The small basket had some packets and wrapped candy bars, along with fake orchids.

        "I got you some chocolates and flowers! If you're allergic to coco or milk, I have this replica of hot chocolate powder that tastes like hot chocolate, but doesn't have any milk or coco! People are so smart nowadays!” Doctor Ryan explained. “Oh, and don't worry, I checked with the missus first, so she won't be mad at me!" Doctor Ryan cooed over his wife.

        “Tell her I said thank you. And thank you to you too.” (Y/N) smiled, accepting the basket and placing it on the counter. “But you didn’t have to do this. I was only gone for about two or three weeks.”

        “I never realized how much I enjoyed your company around this place.” Doctor Ryan sighed. “I mean, seriously. Ruby could never.” 

        “What about Agatha?” (Y/N) questioned. “Wasn’t she here?”

        “Taking vacation. She just divorced her husband, so she’s sunbathing in the Bahamas.” Doctor Ryan explained.

        “About time.” (Y/N) scoffed. “Her husband was a dick and all he knew was how to use it.”

        “Careful, don’t let our boss hear that.” Doctor Ryan chuckled. “That’s potty language.” 

        “Oops.” (Y/N) hummed, though she wasn’t sorry in the slightest.

        “Ready for today? We have six scheduled, and walk-in’s from there.” Doctor Ryan explained, picking up his computer. “First one comes in 20 minutes for an annual check-up and flu shot. Let’s get everything situated.”

        “Yes, sir.” She smiled.

She picked up antiseptic spray and wiped down the examination table, replacing a new paper sheet on it so no accidental snot or blood spills could infect the cushions, before looking at Doctor Ryan.

        “Excuse me, sir?” (Y/N) spoke.

        “Yes?” he hummed, arranging the pan with a antibacterial wipe, a lidded-syringe vaccine, a cotton ball and a bandaid. 

        “Do you think it’s possible for me to continue my education online? Or transfer to another Treegrowth hospital program somewhere else?” she questioned.

        “What? Why?” Doctor Ryan questioned, stopping what he was doing as he looked over to her.

        “I’ve been wanting to move out of the city lately, but I’m worried about my education.” (Y/N) lied. “I still want my degree after all.” 

        In truth, she wanted to leave the city. Even though she hid Penelope’s body, once it’s found a search will be conducted. After that, they’ll see Andrew on the cameras, and it’ll be game over for him. 

        (Y/N)’s not safe either. Considering she led Penelope out of the store to the alley with no cameras, and came back without her jacket alongside Penelope not following her; it’s safe to say she’s a prime suspect. 

        So I got rid of that jacket for nothing… (Y/N) mentally sighed. 

        Well, it wasn’t entirely for nothing. At least it kept people from getting suspicious so far. She would’ve had the police called on her if she walked into the store wearing blood (whether she entered wearing the blood or not, and she’s unsure if she could’ve used a fashion excuse). 

        It’s at least given her some time to plan other than immediately going to jail.

        It doesn’t help that not only was (Y/N) seen on the cameras last with Penelope and Andrew was in the store too, but it’s safe to say that seeing the two enter and leave together is more than enough evidence that the two are “working together” (the police will say).

        She highly doubts she can place the blame on Andrew for “blackmailing” or “threatening her life” her to where she had to kill Penelope. It just wouldn’t be believable with Andrew in a wheelchair and (Y/N) willingly buying clothes and food for him.

        As shitty as it’ll be, she’ll have to move. She can’t move back to her hometown considering: one, her parents are dead; two, Ren might still be living there and she’s not risking it.

        However, the family farm is back at home and if Rose wasn’t lying, then it’s now in (Y/N)’s name. She’ll receive a letter in the mail in a few weeks regarding her parents wills’, but for now she’ll have to brainstorm somewhere else to stay.

        It shouldn’t be hard to find another apartment on the other side of the city considering how shitty this place is, rent would probably be low or at least decent too. 

        She could almost laugh at her luck. Maybe there is a God who favors her—it’s about damn time considering how much she’s suffered for this. 

        “Move out of the city?” Doctor Ryan questioned, sighing. “So I take it you’re not taking over my night shifts…?”

        “Sorry…” she smiled sheepishly. “My boyfriend and I want to move someplace bigger, so we’re looking outside of the city.”

        “Wait? You have a boyfriend?!” he gasped, almost dropping the pan of needed medical supplies.

        “Yeah… we've been together a year now. Met him in a library at the beginning of college.” She smiled.

        “Oh, that’s great! I didn’t know this but that’s great!” he laughed. “Whats his name?”

        “And—... A-Andes.” (Y/N) hummed, smiling as she lied.

        “Whats he look like?” he questioned.

        Oh, his hair as luxurious as a raven. His eyes are as green as lush bushes from Iceland. His skin is as pale as winter’s first snow. His smile might as well be Cupid’s bow striking an arrow through my heart. She thought.

        “Honeypot brown hair and eyes like roasted chestnuts during Christmas.” (Y/N) cooed, almost cringing at the thought of speaking about another man (even if they were just imaginary).

        “Sounds like a dreamboat.” Doctor Ryan teased. “Reminds me of me in my young years.”

        “You’re only 10 years older…” (Y/N) pointed out.

        Even if he was older, sometimes it felt like she was more mature between the two, but it’s probably a persona for work considering they work with children. (Y/N) doesn’t hang out with Doctor Ryan outside of work since he’s her professor, so she's not aware of his home persona; however, she doesn't really care on finding out. She likes this Doctor Ryan the way he is, and she'd feel terrible if her superior knew the kind of person she actually was outside of these pastel nursing scrubs. 

        “Well, you still have a year left for your degree…” Doctor Ryan explained. “I can talk with our educational board later, but I don’t see why it’d be a problem. You do your research and send in your homework on time, and you do good during manual instruction too… so you’ll just have to go to another Treegrowth hospital and work with one of the pediatricians there.”

        “Thank you.” (Y/N) smiled, letting out a relieved sigh. 

        “Speaking of school, you don’t have to worry about those research papers assigned over your resting period. I’ll extend the deadlines.” Doctor Ryan explained.

        “Oh… thank you, sir.” (Y/N) smiled, surprised.

        She had completely forgotten about those papers, she was busy doing other things during her break, such as spending days planning her next move and while keeping a low profile (and thinking of dinner plans to make sure Andrew was eating too).

        Over her break, she had removed Andrew’s staples on his ankles and started helping him with physical therapy for his legs. It might be a few months before he can run, but he’s been shown to stand and walk for short periods at a time, so she’s not too concerned in something going wrong during his recovery. 

        She also got rid of her own stitches and staples, avoiding the emergency unit of the hospital too so no doctor can try and schedule a check-up with her. 

        She made sure to visit Ashley and place some flowers in her memoir. Now, she couldn’t place them exactly where the grave was in risk of someone potentially finding the suspicious sight and reporting it to the police, so she settled for placing them on the trail’s entrance. 

        She visited Ashley’s grave and apologized for her harsh words nights ago, remorseful for blaming Ashley for her struggles. It wasn’t her fault, and it probably wasn’t her demon’s fault either; it was something (Y/N) did to herself and she had to take responsibility.

        Worrying so much about Andrew, Ashley, and what to do after Penelope death, she’s completely forgotten about her college papers.

        “I’ll go get the patient and get his growth developments.” (Y/N) smiled, walking out of the room. 

        (Y/N) left the room and let out a sigh.

        Maybe killing Penelope was a terrible idea; unlike Ashley, Penelope’s home was here! While Penelope didn’t have any family, she did have co-workers. Soon enough they’d grow suspicious and call the police for a wellness check eventually (it’s not like they’d be investigating the hospital and its illegal methods, so that’s not a concern). 

        Penelope could be reported missing tomorrow and it wouldn’t take long for a missing person paper to come out. 

        It was almost frustrating really for her to have gotten caught up in her emotions. She used to be so good at bottling them up, but recently it seems like there's a hole in her bottle at the bottom that causing all her emotions to pour out quickly. 

        It made her want to scream and shout, but she couldn't do that at her job, so she resorted to kicking the floor's baseboards lightly and silently screaming as she pulled her lanyard around her neck, strangling her. 

        Well, it's better Penelope is dead. She won't be a threat to Andrew anymore.

        That thought made her feel a bit better, causing her to stop her silent tantrum and readjust her lanyard.

        She had a patient to meet and make sure nothing was wrong with the kid. She met with the receptionist, taking a patient's clipboard of information they filled out in the waiting room for Doctor Ryan. She opened the waiting room door and smiled, reading the patient's name. 

        "Zoe Hoops?" she read. "Follow me, please." 

        .

        .

        For the first time in who knows how long, (Y/N) felt excited leaving work. 

        Work for (Y/N) was an escape. Instead of worrying about her problems, she’d worry about someone else’s. Even if she still has problems, it felt good being able to leave work with a smile on her face.

        Nothing went wrong during her shift. Nobody died. Zoe didn’t cry during her flu shot, she’s getting very big now. George sprained his ankle but he was walking like a champ. Nelly got discharged after her fight with a RSV. Tom and Jerry played trains in the hallways and are said to be discharged soon. 

        It felt nice being bit by the harsh autumn air, knowing that winter was coming up.

        It felt nice walking out of the hospital doors, even if her feet ached and there was a sore spot in her back.

        It felt nice seeing the sun rising, brightening up the city and her mind with a new light.

        It felt nice driving home, knowing for the first time that someone was actually waiting for her to come home.

        It felt nice feeling the heated air from the apartment as she opened the door. All the locks were undid; Andrew must’ve kept them unlocked for her.

        There’s a chance he went back to bed since all the lights are off. She quietly closed the door and locked all five locks on the door. She didn’t bother turning on a light as she planned on going right back to bed after her 12 hour shift, placing her purse down on the hallway table in the dark.

        She walked into the living room, opening the curtain and checking the locks on the window to make sure none were loose or unlocked. She finished that window and walked to the knife one, only to feel a rough push. 

        She was knocked to the ground with a thud, landing on her back and quickly on alert. A short yelp leaving her as she got pinned to her carpeted living room floor. Her eyes adjusted to the dark as she squirmed and kicked, trying to kick off her assaulter as she hit and scratched. 

        It was Andrew.

        .

        .

        Bored would be an understatement. Andrew was practically dead as he looked through the category of movies he was illegally pirating. 

        What? Don't judge. Nobody wants to spend $10 on a movie they're only going to watch once or twice. If you bought a new movie every day to watch in a 30 day month, you'd have spent $300 on movies alone in a single month. He'll take the money saving option and $10 a month for VPN. Besides, (Y/N) was the one that showed him this site on her TV.

        He browsed through the movies mindlessly before picking a Ryan Reynold's movie called Waiting...

        He watched the movie with a neutral expression. The jokes really weren't really that funny when he couldn't hear (Y/N) laughing in his ear at them. He wished she was here with him right now. He wondered if she'd laugh at the inappropriate jokes, disgusted at the cook's handling rude customer's food, or sympathize for Calvin's fear of peeing outside of his home's bathroom. 

        Maybe he'll watch the movie with her when she gets home from work. He really couldn't be bothered to focus on this right now. 

        A thought crossed his mind as he thought: damn, was it really this hard to watch a movie alone before? He doesn't remember needing Ashley's commentary on every piece of media he's consumed, yet with (Y/N) it feels like he needs her approval or disproval before he can decide if he likes something or not.

        He groaned, throwing his head back on the couch cushion, before noticing the open front door at the corner of his eye. He immediately stood up, alarmed as he carefully walked over to the door, peeking outside to see if anything (or anyone) was there.

        Nobody.

        He closed the door, leaning his weight on it. He couldn't walk far or stand long, his ankles having a small ache to them still. 

        (Y/N) didn't leave the door unlocked, he remembered watching her leave for work and locking the door behind her. She had cooked him breakfast as he complained about wanting to sleep in with her longer, clinging onto her waist from behind as she cooked him waffles. It was 2 AM, at least six hours until (Y/N) would return home, he remembered her telling him. She had left her phone number on the refrigerator for him to call if he needs her (he's been pondering if he should.

        Andrew knows she takes security very seriously. He's seen her check her window and door locks every morning when she wakes up and every night before bed. A paranoid little thing she is, but he thinks that's good considering this city isn't a very good place to live in. He would rather she be overly paranoid than overly careless. 

        He re-locked the five door locks on her door; a bullock, a chain-lock, a sliding lock, a deadbolt, and a classic handle lock. He hopped into his wheelchair and spent the time re-checking all her window locks (three in total on each window).

        She must've spent hundreds to maybe even a thousand on all her security, it's a miracle she doesn't have cameras in her apartment too. Maybe she's cautious of digital security. He noticed she uses VPN's, fake emails and usernames that's not her name, uses no social media, and weekly changes her passwords. 

        He's not sure why she's so paranoid, but he'd rather wait until she's ready to speak. She's already done so much for him, housing him, feeding him, buying him clothes, taking over his hospital bills, and even letting him sleep in her own bed—he'd do anything other than make her mad at him, not when he's living life so good.

        He has to start looking for a job. There's no way he can work in person, maybe he can be a teleprompter for an insurance company or something... The both of them did agree that he'd live with her so long as he pays her back eventually; and he's not too sure he can repay her with chores and homemade food like a househusband...

        He heard a drawer shut somewhere in the apartment, immediately alerting him. He got in his wheelchair and rolled over to the kitchen, grabbing a large cleaver.

        Ah, memories.

        He quietly strolled down the hallway, cautiously looking around before noticing the bedroom door was open. He remembered (Y/N) closing it before work, so Andrew just spent his time on the living room couch waiting for her to return to him.

        It'd be nice if he had a gun in case it was another hitman who his parents hired to finish the job, but he doubts (Y/N) casually has one lying around. 

        The door was cracked open, so he took a breath before opening it all the way. The door was loud and creaky, something (Y/N) intentionally made sure of.

        There was a man rummaging through her drawers, hunched over as he looked through her bedside drawer, snatching something before putting it in his pocket. He had blond hair, a black button down shirt and blue jeans, classy and uncovered for someone who breaks into an apartment. 

        A robber?

        "What do you think you're doing?" Andrew questioned, already annoyed. He really didn't want to go through anymore drama in his life. 

        The man looked over his shoulder, though his expression didn't seem surprised, but excited as he smiled. His hand moved from the drawer and pulled a gun, aiming it at Andrew.

        Fuck.

        "Bang!" the man exclaimed, pulling the gun's trigger.

        Nothing.

        "No bullets." He smiled, chuckling as Andrew clutched his chest, practically half-dead from a damn near heart attack.

        "Jesus, fuck..." Andrew hissed, holding his chest where his erratic heart was beating. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

        "Ren. It's nice to finally meet (Y/N)'s pet. Andrew, right?" The man, Ren, smiled as he placed the gun down into her drawer, closing it up. 

        "How do you know our names? Have you been watching us?" Andrew questioned, ignoring the man's mocking words. 

        There's no point in being hostile. He's not so sure he can win in a fight without his legs, and the confidence this man is oozing is really making Andrew second-guess himself, almost like he was the one in the wrong instead. 

        "Right. Let's get to the point." Ren hummed, plopping down on (Y/N)'s side of the bed, picking up the pillow and sniffing it.

        Andrew felt his eye twitch, enraged and disgusted at the scene in front of him.

        "I'm Ren. I'm (Y/N)'s childhood friend from church and I'm her husband." Ren smiled.

        "Husband?!" Andrew exclaimed.

        "Oh, right. Soon-to-be-husband. I just gotta propose and take her back home and yada-yada, you don't wanna hear our sappy love story." He laughed, waving his hand in the air. 

        "Stop the bullshit. What the hell are you doing here?" Andrew snapped, watching as Ren squeezed (Y/N)'s pillow to his chest.

        "Oh, just checking in." He smiled. "Yeah. I have a hotel around here. Only for a week though!"

        "What do you mean 'checking in?'" Andrew hissed, making quotations with his fingers.

        "Checking in!" Ren smiled, gesturing to a poster in the room.

        The poster was of one of her favorite bands. Upon closure inspection, Andrew noticed a small hole, a black reflection peeking right back at him. A camera.

        "Hey, what the fuck?!" Andrew exclaimed, swirling his head to face Ren. "Why the fuck is there a camera?!" 

        "Oh, I just installed that! It's even smaller with audio too! Oh, has technology grown over the years! It makes my job so easy." Ren gushed, acting as if nothing was wrong.

        "What job? Stop ignoring my damn questions!" Andrew hissed, strolling closer to Ren. 

        He grabbed Ren's collar, forcing Ren off the bed and holding him down to Andrew's eyesight as Andrew gritted his teeth. A dark storm as he looked at this strange man who decides to waltz in his home, sit on his girlfriend's bed, hug hisgirlfriend's pillow, place a camera in his girlfriend's room.        

        "I'm going to fucking kill you if you don't leave my home right now..." Andrew spat out, a harsh glare in his eyes.

        "Your home?" Ren laughed. "It's not your home, silly! It's under (Y/N)'s name!"

        "Do you wanna die?" Andrew snipped back.

        "Oh please, you're wheel-bound." Ren chuckled, his brown eyes challenging Andrew's green eyes. "Besides, you're very lucky I haven't killed you yet; especially when you've been sleeping with my girl." 

        "Your girl?!" Andrew exclaimed, his head butting into Ren's, ignoring the sting as his hands shook, itching to punch Ren's teeth in. "She's mine! You stay the hell away before I fucking gut you!" 

        "I love your enthusiasm, but you don't love her." Ren laughed, patting Andrew's shoulder as if consoling a child.

        Andrew quickly wound his fist, gathering momentum before punching Ren's face.

        Ren's head knocked back, hitting the mattress as a trail of blood poured out of one of his nostrils. He quickly sat up, clutching his nose.

        "Ha. Ah... I'll let that slide..." he breathed out through his mouth, his eye twitching in a sign of annoyance. "See... I'm not here to hurt anyone. That's already over." He spoke, grabbing a tissue from tissue box next to (Y/N)'s bedside for sick days. 

        "What do you mean 'it's already over?'" Andrew questioned.

        "Her parents?" Ren smiled, tilting his head to the side as he plugged his bleeding nose with the tissue he grabbed. "The (L/N)s?"

        "What did you do?" Andrew demanded, grabbing Ren's collar once more. 

        "Haven't you heard? They're dead!" Ren smiled.

        "I know that! I mean, what did you do?" Andrew groaned, impatient with Ren's childish demeanor. 

        "Well, I killed them!" Ren chirped. "Well, I didn't directly kill them, but I played a part in it." 

        "Spill it out! How?" Andrew snapped, annoyed as he shook Ren's collar.

        "I hired a hitman. Quite pricey too! He just crashed an auto-driving car into a gas tank and blew the couple up!" Ren explained.

        "W-what?" Andrew questioned, shocked. "Why the hell did you do that?!"

        "Well, they were no use to me anymore!" Ren laughed. "When they finally left that farm to go visit (Y/N) in years, I knew it was finally time! I had been following them for years, so when I saw their car drive out of town I knew they were going to see her! My AirTag told me where they were."

        Andrew's heart dropped, surprised and disgusted at the man in front of him. How dare he lay his eyes on (Y/N)? How dare he stalk her?

        "So when they led me here, I had (Y/N)'s address and knew where she was, so they were of no use!" Ren smiled. "Oh, tricky little thing! I'll give her credit, she escaped my radar—but she's back now~" Ren laughed, his bloody tissue started to overfill with blood as it traveled lower and lower into the tissue white cotton, tainting it with crimson. 

        "So... you've been after her this whole time?" Andrew questioned. "Why? Is it the farm's money? What do you want from her?" 

        "Her." Ren smiled. "I want her. Such beauty shouldn't be for just anyone to see."

        "What makes you think only you can have her?" Andrew snapped.

        "What makes you think you can have her?" Ren retorted. "She was mine first! I had her before you did!"

        "Well she's mine now!" Andrew hissed. "Besides, she likes me better than you. She chose me after all."

        That earned him an uppercut, biting his tongue as he rolled back in his chair away from Ren, grabbing the cleaver in his lap and holding it as he gritted his teeth.

        "Oops. You seemed to have upset me for a second..." Ren chuckled. "I will not apologize; however, I have a deal."

        "Shove it up your ass!" Andrew exclaimed.

        "It involves Ashley." Ren hummed.

        Andrew's grip on his weapon immediately loosened, hesitantly lowering down onto his lap.

        "A-Ashley...?" he questioned. "My sister? You know her?" 

        "Knew her." Ren scoffed. "She's dead." 

        Andrew's heart dropped for what seemed like the umpteenth time. He stood up his full height, towering Ren's 5'9" body with his 5'11" self. He grabbed Ren's collar and knocked him back onto the mattress, seething as he glared at Ren.

        "What the fuck did you do to her?! I'll fucking kill you!" Andrew shouted.

        "Wait! I didn't do it this time!" Ren gasped as Andrew started choking him. 

        "Then who else?!" Andrew hissed. 

        "(Y/N)!" Ren exclaimed. 

        "(Y/N)?" Andrew questioned, his grip loosening on Ren's neck. "Explain."

        "Look in her bedside drawer." Ren hummed, tilting his head to the cabinets he was rummaging through earlier.

        Andrew hesitated, before letting go of Ren's neck. He fell back into his wheelchair, before reaching over and opening the cabinet, surprised as he held his breath.

        In the drawer, there was a small box and a snack-sized bag labelled Rophynol. There was a pocketknife with a rose on it, and a gun that Ren pulled out earlier. It looked awfully familiar, and it had no bullets too... And finally, there was a black and red occult charm, one Andrew immediately recognized as Ashley's.

        "Jesus... no..." Andrew gasped, gently picking up and cradling the charm, the only thing remaining of Ashley. "No, please..." 

        "Oh, how cute! My little angel is into the occult now! Isn't she so pure?" Ren cooed. "Is what I'd say if I didn't know that was Ashley's... My angel is far too pure to be involved with that demon crap." 

        "How do you know Ashley's name...?" Andrew grumbled. "How do I know you didn't plant this?" Andrew hissed, protectively cradling the charm in his hand.

        "Because I have no reason to kill Ashley." Ren hummed. "Well, scratch that. I would've. She got what she got for what she tried to do." Ren smiled. "The only reason I know of Ashley is because I followed (Y/N) to her grave!"

        "A-a grave?" Andrew spluttered. 

        "Duh. I told you she was dead." Ren rolled his eyes. "You really don't listen. My angel is so patient and kind, accepting strays like you into her home..."

        "But... this isn't proof that you didn't kill her..." Andrew muttered. "(Y/N)... she wouldn't kill anyone. She's just perfect. A darling... She wouldn't do it—you would!"

        "I would—and have." Ren smirked. "But that's not what we're discussing right now. Here." Ren hummed rummaging in his back pocket before pulling out some small folded squares. "Look."

        Andrew accepted the pictures, opening them. He unfolded the squares and saw five pictures. One of Penelope, (Y/N)'s co-worker Andrew remembers, and (Y/N) out in the rain in an alleyway. Another photo showed a knife in (Y/N)'s hand, along with one in Penelope's. The third had a photo of (Y/N) on top of Penelope, straddling her waist with a pocketknife in the air. The fourth had the knife stabbed into Penelope's chest, along with multiple other wounds on her chest too. Finally, the last photo showed (Y/N) throwing the body in a public clothing donation center. 

        "Right in the act!" Ren laughed, gasping for air as if it was there funniest thing ever. "I followed you guys later that day while the hitman did his job! I can't believe I actually caught that! Turns out my angel is such a little vixen!"

        "This can't be real..." Andrew rasped.

        "Oh! It is! And look, best one for last!" Ren smirked, grabbing final photo in another pocket, pulling it out and unfolding it for Andrew. "H-ha! Ha! Here! Lookie!" Ren laughed, waving a photo of (Y/N) in the rain with a set of flowers, placing them down on a trail entrance. "Giving her condolences to her victim! Oh, she's so pure! I haven't even bothered visiting Ben's grave!" he cackled. 

        “You think this is something to laugh about?! People are dead!” Andrew shouted, shoving the occult charm into his pocket before glaring at Ren.

        “So sensitive… it’s just a blood relative…” Ben sighed.

        “That’s my sister!” Andrew snapped. 

        “It’s not like you haven’t killed anyone before.” Ben hummed, crossing his arms.

        “You son of a— w-wait…” Andrew’s threat fell short, taking in Ren’s words. “How… do you know?”

        “My father owns our town jail, so we have access to arrest records to check for felonies and such—we look up people and decide if they should be held in jail or be sent to prison.” Ren explained. “You showed up on my records, lucky you!” 

        “Damn it…” Andrew hissed, gritting his teeth.

        Of course, (Y/N)’s stalker has to be involved with the police. Why wouldn’t he?

        “If I recall… you have three accounts of second-degree murder. Cannibalism. Escaping house arrest. Invading officers—“ Ren listed.

        “Hey! Hey! That’s not what happened! That’s bullshit!” Andrew snapped.

        “It’s what the system says. You really think the justice system is gonna believe a murderer?” Ren chuckled.

        “It was self-defense and necessity. I had to do it.” Andrew hissed.

        “Right. And the girl that went missing in your hometown? I'm fairly certain you caused it—same with the man shot in the park a city nearby a month ago. That's two more accounts of second-degree murder, but anyways…” Ren hummed, playfully rolling his eyes in a teasing motion. “You asked why I was here earlier…”

        “To check in, you said…” Andrew muttered.

        “That’s not all!” Ren chirped. “I told you I’ll only be here for a week, so we only have a week for this. I want you to help me.” 

        “Help? Help you? As if!” Andrew scoffed, grabbing his cleaver.

        “Oh… well, I guess the police can be more helpful then…” Ren hummed.

        Damn it.

        “What is it?” Andrew gritted through his teeth. “What do you want?”

        “(Y/N).” Ren smiled.

        “I already told you. She’s mine!” Andrew hissed.

        “No, she’s not!” Ren hissed, clenching his fist. “You don’t love her! How can you when she killed your sister?”

        Andrew opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out.

        Because how could he love someone that killed his sister?

        Ren smiled, pleased to see Andrew couldn’t come up with anything.

        “See? How can you love a murderer? She’s killed innocent people, and you love that?” Ren chuckled, smiling. “(Y/N)’s not that innocent little nurse who just helps from the kindness of her heart. She does it to feel better about herself, an ego to fulfill. If you can’t love that side of her, you don’t deserve her. Do you really love that side of her? I mean, how do you know you're not next? Not even her own co-worker was off-limits!"

        “Do you really ever shut up…?” Andrew grumbled, adverting Ren’s eyes.

        “Let’s make this easy.” Ren hummed. “You help me get (Y/N), and this whole apartment is yours! I’ll send you rent money, and grocery money, and whatever money you want that will keep you satisfied in this apartment—so long as you don’t leave it! Or, ya know, you can and just go to jail. That works for me, but I’m trying to give you a chance here.” 

        “Why not just kill me?” Andrew questioned.

        “It’ll upset my angel too much, dummy!” Ren chuckled, patting Andrew’s shoulder like he was swatting away a toddler’s joke. “In order to prevent anymore… accidents from her… it’d be better to make it seem like you betrayed her! Which you will if you wanna live!”

        Andrew slapped away Ren’s hand, annoyed as he sighed. “And how are we gonna do that?”

        “You are gonna drug her!” Ren smiled.

        ”Excuse me?” Andrew snapped. 

        “It’s easier than you’d think, especially with this!” Ren smiled, opening the bedside drawer and shaking the bag of white powder. “I can only assume this is Rohypnol since there’s a box here of it. This is a date-rape drug, or a sleep medicine gone wrong.” 

        “Really?” Andrew cringed, making a face. “I have to literally put it in her drink?”

        “Yeah, or a liquid food like soup. Doesn’t matter. Just make sure she eats it.” Ren shrugged, placing the bag back into the drawer. “I’ll leave that there. Remember, you have a week.” 

        “And if I don’t, I die or get arrested…” Andrew muttered, watching as Ren moved around, grabbing a small box in his pocket before walking into the bathroom.

        ”Don’t even think about it…” Andrew hissed. “I share that bathroom with her.”

        Ren looked over, before shrugging his shoulders. “Fine. Bathroom cameras are off-limits…” 

        “You’re gross…” Andrew groaned, rolling his eyes. “Why do you need those pictures?”

        Ren ignored him, instead placing a camera in another corner of the room for full coverage.

        “Why do you bother doing this?” Andrew questioned.

        “Why not?” Ren smiled. 

        Ren noticed the answer didn’t satisfy Andrew as he glared at him, so he spoke again.

        “And to make sure she’s doing okay.” Ren hummed.

        “I think more than half of her problems would be gone if it wasn’t for you.” Andrew grumbled.

        “You can say what you want…” Ren spoke. “But just remember, you have only a week left with her. Do you understand.”

        “Yeah. Okay.” Andrew muttered.

        “By the end of this week, you should have her unconscious. You will not mention me or any cameras. Nothing.” Ren ordered. “When you drug her, give me a call.”

        Ren pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, his number already written down on it. Seems he had this all planned.

        “Be quick about it when you call. The drug shouldn’t take long to kick in. And use the whole bag if you can—the drug is tasteless and odorless so she won’t know any different.” Ren explained.

        “Okay. Okay.” Andrew hissed, upset as he snatched the paper and shoved it in his pocket. 

        “I’ll see you tomorrow. I have some stuff to show you.” Ren hummed.

        Andrew followed Ren as he put cameras in other rooms of (Y/N)’s apartment, before leaving out the front door, driving away in a silver Honda Odyssey.

        Andrew sat around in silence, looking around at the apartment.

        He felt angry. Angry at Ren and his blackmail. Angry at (Y/N) for lying to him and taking away his only family he considered. Angry at himself for letting this all happen and being so easy to control.

        He felt upset. Upset at Ren taking control of his life. Upset at (Y/N) for pushing her way into his life. And upset at himself for allowing his life to be controlled like this.

        “Fuck…” he groaned, covering his eyes with his hands.

        .

        .

        She was knocked to the ground with a thud, landing on her back and quickly on alert. A short yelp leaving her as she got pinned to her carpeted living room floor. Her eyes adjusted to the dark as she squirmed and kicked, trying to kick off her assaulter as she hit and scratched. 

        It was Andrew.

        Andrew had a crazed look in his eyes. An angry expression on his face that matched his panic at the hospital that night he tried to figure out what to do next after discharge.

        He was mad, and there was a cleaver raised in the air just a few inches from her face.

        “Andrew! Andrew, it’s me!” (Y/N) gasped, reaching her hands up and grabbing his wrist.

        Was he mad at her? For what? Does he believe she's an intruder? But that wouldn't explain why he has a cleaver ready in his hand.

        "Andrew!" (Y/N) squirmed, digging her nails down into his wrist to hopefully make him let go.

        It won't work. He's pumped with too much adrenaline to even register the pain, that or he's able to tolerate it. Either way, both situations are bad for her and could result terribly. 

        "You son of a bitch! You killed her!" Andrew hissed, fighting to slam the cleaver down. 

        Oh god fucking damn it. (Y/N) mentally groaned.

        Of course he'd figure it out eventually, but she was hoping to break it to him lightly, if that's even possible. 

        “You don’t understand!” (Y/N) retorted, struggling to hold back Andrew as his free hand tried pinning down her arms. “I had to! I had to!”

        “You didn’t have to do shit!” Andrew snapped, furious as the cleaver came closer to her head.

        “She was gonna kill me first! I had to defend myself!” (Y/N) blurted out.

        “So you killed her?!” Andrew snarled.

        “I panicked! The situation was too far gone to de-escalate.” (Y/N) snapped.

        “That’s no excuse!” Andrew hissed, the sharp blade of her own cleaver getting closer to her head.

        There was a moment where she considered that she might actually not be able to escape this one. With his strength against her, this isn’t a fight she can win. 

        “So what? I just let her kill me?” (Y/N) scoffed,  her voice strained as she was losing, the blade grazing just above her nose and between her eyes.

        “Yes!” Andrew snarled. “It should’ve been you!”

        The sudden shock that jolted through her body shouldn’t have been surprising, it was her versus his sister, of course he’d choose her over his unprofessional nurse—but it still hurt to hear.

        “If you kill me, you’ll pay.” (Y/N) snapped, a new wave of anger taking over her. “Even if it’s not me, you’ll pay. I don’t have to kill you myself for it to happen.” (Y/N) hissed.

        There was a falter in his grip, tears welling up in his eyes as his grip loosened slightly, his hesitancy a mistake as she moved her hands off his wrists. She gripped the blade’s end, ignoring the already stinging sensation as it pressed into her palms in a line.

        Even if the blade comes down, her hands will take the blow. She doesn’t need her hands to live, and she’s ready to make that sacrifice.

        Her anger flared as a wave of adrenaline rushed through her, aiming to survive and escape. She grabbed the cleaver and pulled it back to her, catching Andrew off as he let go.

        She kicked his stomach, before pinning him back on the ground, raising the cleaver.

        “I can’t do it…” Andrew muttered, tears welting up in his eyes, a look of defeat as he made no effort to retrieve the cleaver hovering over him. “I can’t kill you.”

        His hands went to her hips, loosely holding them as he stayed on the ground, (Y/N)’s body hovering over his. 

        (Y/N) glared at him, the cleaver raised up high as she aimed for his neck, gripping the cleaver’s handle tighter.

        “Just who do you think you are…?” she spat out, watching as tears fell down Andrew’s face. “You think you can just kill me after all I’ve done?” she questioned.

        Her twin buns were messy, one of her buns loose as her star hairclip threatened to fall from her hair. Her nurse lanyard dangled down on Andrew, one of her hands resting next to Andrew’s head as the other held her kitchen cleaver.

        She watched the tears fall down his face, before throwing the cleaver across the room, probably creating a mark on her wall she’ll worry about later. She threw the cleaver so they both wouldn't make a drastic mistake they couldn't change. There wasn't any need for more bloodshed, all it did was get them both in trouble numerous times. 

        “Was there really no other way?” Andrew questioned, his hands tracing self-assuring circles on her hips. “You really couldn’t have done anything other than kill her?”

        (Y/N) paused, thinking. Maybe if she hadn’t provoked Ashley to attack by spraying perfume in her eyes, perhaps they could’ve talked it out. She could’ve made a compromise with Ashley, or even go as far as to dropping the whole murder idea all together.

        But Ashley Graves is dead, in an amateur grave (Y/N) dug up and covered with dirt herself, some flowers resting in the forest entrance as an apology and tribute to her. It won't fix anything, not what's happened in the past or future or now, but it's something to ease her mind, help her with the guilt. 

        “I don’t know.” (Y/N) admitted. “I just did what I could; isn’t that what we all do?”

        “It still hurts though.” Andrew sighed.

        “It always will.” (Y/N) spoke. “But it’ll lessen over time.”

        “It’s just… she’s probably the only thing left that would’ve helped me know who I am.” Andrew groaned, tilting his head to the side to look at the wall, avoiding her eyes. 

        “You’re Andrew, dummy.” (Y/N) spoke.

        “Well I don’t feel like Andrew.” Andrew muttered.

        “When do we feel like ourselves these days?” she laughed, as if he made a funny joke. 

        Andrew glanced up at her, unamused. 

        “Come on, you have a whole new path ahead of you. You don’t have anything from the past holding you back, so what’s stopping you?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “I-I don’t know. Maybe I’m worried.” Andrew stammered, unsure really what to say or how to put his feelings into words. 

        “About what?” she pried, getting up off his waist.

        “I don’t think it’ll work out well for me…” He groaned, exhausted.

        “That’s everyone’s fear. You’re not special.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

        “I mean being a criminal and all…” Andrew added.

        “Same boat here.” (Y/N) hummed. “C’mon, surely we can help each other? Make a truce and no more murdering?”

        Andrew looked hesitant, staring off to the side as he thought. It was risky, especially after all they've done. (Y/N) lied to Andrew; but so did Andrew. (Y/N) betrayed Andrew; but so will Andrew.

        "Okay, fine. No more murder." Andrew sighed, bringing his hands up and wiping the tears from his eyes. 

        He felt almost embarrassed that he cried in front of (Y/N), but he knew she wouldn't say anything about it. She really doesn't get the right to make fun of him for it after all the times she's cried in front of him. 

        .

        .

        Even if they did a truce, Andrew was distant. He stopped sleeping in her bed, and insisted on sleeping on the sleeper sofa in the living room. It doesn't take a genius to know Andrew was upset about Ashley's death; anyone would be upset really.

        (Y/N)'s believes the reason why Andrew's so upset about it is because Ashley was probably the only key to Andrew knowing who he really was. Ashley's the only person who knew Andrew before he jumped and got amnesia, and there's no guarantee the amnesia will ever go away; in fact it could potentially worsen. 

        But (Y/N) would rather not think of that. She can't change what's been done.

        However, Andrew hasn't been eating much. It doesn't take a genius to know that Andrew's gone into a state of depression, feeling hopeless and lost on who he is and what to do next. 

        They've had their arguments and bumps, (Y/N)'s had to force Andrew eat and make sure he's taking care of himself while she's gone at work. It seems like he's just getting worse by the day, and it's been a full week now. Though Andrew's come around to joking and smiling more, there's still a barrier between the two, one Andrew won't allow to break down no matter how many times (Y/N) bangs on it.

        But he's eating again, in fact he's insisted on making dinner today after (Y/N)'s complaints. It was Andrew's turn to cook dinner—well, it's been his turn for a while now, but (Y/N) didn't want to force him to cook when he wasn't feeling well. Andrew never really cooked a meal that took longer than 30 minutes, but (Y/N)'s been insistent on him learning how to cook proper meals since it was a basic skill needed as an adult, so here he is being forced (guided) to cook beef tips and rice. 

        "You're checking the locks again?" Andrew sighed, watching her pace around the kitchen as he cooked.

        Andrew stirred the beef tips, watching (Y/N) check all the three locks on each window, she was such a worrywart.

        "You're gonna get wrinkles if you keep stressing yourself out like this." Andrew commented with a smirk.

        "I think I'd look pretty hot with wrinkles. Like a MILF." (Y/N) snickered. "Besides, I'm just being cautious! Do you understand how many creeps are out in the world?"

        "Yeah, I'm looking at one right now." Andrew teased. 

        "Oh, ahaha." (Y/N) laughed sarcastically. "You think you're so funny? Only funny thing about you is your face."

        "I prefer the term 'handsome', but thanks." Andrew hummed smartly.

        "Oh, yes, so handsome..." (Y/N) cooed, leaning over the counter and pinching Andrew's cheek, watching his eye close as he accepted the treatment, albeit a hint of hesitancy. "That rice is gonna be done soon. Be a dear and check it."

        "Yes, ma'am..." Andrew commented teasingly, watching her let go of his face so he could check the rice cooker's timer. 

        "What movie do you wanna watch tonight?" (Y/N) questioned.

        "I dunno. You decide." Andrew hummed, keeping his eye on the timer before going back to stirring the beef tips.

        "Ugh, Andrew..." (Y/N) groaned, walking out of the kitchen to go into the living room and check the locks. "You know I can never decide a movie, that's why you always pick!"

        "Let's do a comedy then." Andrew hummed, opening the rice cooker's lid as it beeped.

        "A comedy? Okay, let's do an Adam Sandler then." (Y/N) hummed. 

        "You know there's other comedy actors other than Adam Sandler, right?" Andrew chuckled, a fake one. "Besides, I thought you said you could never decide on a movie?" 

        "Well, now I decided." (Y/N) huffed, checking the blinds and curtains and locks. "Besides, he's funny! He's got a funny voice and funny lines! I mean, c'mon, his performance in Grown Ups was pretty nice, especially the sequel." 

        "Whatever you say." Andrew chuckled.

        Andrew grabbed two bowls and scoops some rice into each, then topped it with beef tips and gravy. On any normal day, (Y/N) would've complained to him that there needed to be a vegetable as a side, but she was just happy that Andrew was out of bed and standing up on his own for longer periods of time. 

        "Dinner's ready!" Andrew called out. 

        "Okay!" 

        (Y/N) chirped, making sure the final window was locked before closing the curtains. 

        She walked into the dining room and sat down as Andrew poured some lemonade into a cup.

        “Thank you for dinner.” She hummed, accepting the cup Andrew handed her, taking a sip before placing it down onto the table.

        “It’s nothing.” Andrew waved off, sitting down next to her.

        “Doctor Ryan gave me a basket of hot chocolate supplies today, we should make them for our movie night.” (Y/N) suggested. 

        “Are you talking about the scrawny guy that’s way too happy?” Andrew questioned.

        “That’s the one.” (Y/N) smiled. 

        “Ugh…” Andrew groaned, already knowing how extravagant that hot coco basket will be. 

        “It’ll be a waste of money if we don’t use it.” (Y/N) reasoned. 

        “Still…” Andrew sighed.

        Just the thought of another male thinking about her made Andrew feel sick. It didn’t matter if Doctor Ryan was married with kids and her instructor, he still felt annoyed knowing the man got to spend more time with her than he could.

        “I can make it after dinner when our stomachs settle.” (Y/N) hummed, taking a bite of her food and washing it down with her drink. “Don’t worry about the dishes either, I’ll wash them since you cooked dinner tonight—which, by the way, is very good.” 

        Andrew nodded, eating his food silently, looking down at his bowl before speaking.

        “Do you think I’m a bad person?” he questioned.

        (Y/N) frowned, looking up from her bowl. “A bad person?” she contemplated. “What makes you think that?” 

        “It’s not what I think; it’s what you think. Do you think I’m a bad person?” he repeated.

        “I think… if bad people existed, we all would be bad people.” (Y/N) spoke. “And if good people existed, we all would be good people.”

        “Which means…?” Andrew questioned, impatient as he looked at her.

        “There no such thing as a bad person, only doing bad things.” (Y/N) huffed. “You know, that famous saying? It was something along those lines at least.”

        “Right…” he sighed. 

        “Anyways…” (Y/N) yawned, covering her mouth, before resting her cheek on her palm. “Why?”

        “What do you mean ‘why?’” Andrew questioned.

        “What are you thinking about that has you wondering if you’re a bad person?” (Y/N) asked.

        “I’m just curious…” Andrew muttered, shrugging his shoulders.

        “About?” she pried.

        “Do you think…” Andrew hesitated, placing his spoon down in his bowl, before looking at (Y/N). “Do you think it’s okay for someone to do bad things if it’s to protect themselves?”

        “Depends on the circumstances…” (Y/N) hums. “I mean, some things can be forgiven and some can’t.”

        “Don’t worry about the circumstances, just think of it as whole. Can you forgive me for doing bad things if it was to protect myself?” Andrew huffed, annoyed at her deflections.

        (Y/N) paused, thinking. Is he… trying to open up about his past? His crimes? 

        “Well… I think you should do whatever it takes for you to survive.” (Y/N) muttered.

        You can kill someone as long as they tried killing you first, that’s how self-defense works—at least, it’s an excuse for her to feel better about herself. 

        “You wake up with yourself, you go to bed with yourself, you feed yourself, you shower with yourself; you live with yourself for as long as you live, so only you should matter.” (Y/N) spoke, leaning on her hand and closing her eyes. “I think, it’s best to lend help to others once you’re stable yourself.”

        “Right…” Andrew muttered. “So, I’m sorry.” He whispered.

        He leaned over the table and moved her bowl and food away from her head, watching her peaceful face as she kept her eyes closed, before she slumped on the table.

        Andrew stood up from the table, picking up (Y/N)’s phone and using her thumb to unlock it. He grabbed a piece of paper out of his pockets, dialing the numbers in before holding it up to his ear.

        “Ren? I did what you wanted, come get her.” 

        .

        .

        “I’m so glad you came to your senses! You did it last minute, I was worried I’d have to find a place to bury you!” Ren chirped, laughing as he entered the apartment.

        “Shut up…” Andrew muttered, annoyed.

        It hurt. It felt like he betrayed himself more than he betrayed (Y/N). His chest ached, sore from lying to her, but it also burned, knowing that (Y/N) was going to be in the hands of this man now.

        “As promised, you’ll live. I’ll give you 4,000 every month for rent, shipping groceries, online shopping, all that stuff. Just money for whatever you need.” Ren explained. “Remember, so long as you don’t leave the apartment! We don’t need the police finding you after I worked so hard to cover both your and my angel’s tracks! It was hard wiping out that camera footage at the mall, you know?” 

        Ren went around the house, removing all the cameras and microphones for Andrew to live in privacy. 

        Ren took a suitcase out of (Y/N)’s closet and unzipped it, picking up (Y/N)’s unconscious body and placing her in a cradle-like position, setting her down in the suitcase and zipping her up.

        Ren noticed Andrew’s hesitant expression, watching him zip her up so he spoke.

        “She’s claustrophobic, but this is just so none of the neighbors see her.” Ren explained. “I’ll make sure to pull off the side of the road and take her out of the suitcase before I get on the interstate.”

        “You better…” Andrew muttered, watching as Ren grabbed the suitcase’s handles.  

        “Well, this is it. Call me if you need anything.” Ren smiled, handing Andrew a phone out of his pocket. 

        It looked new and pricey, but for all Andrew knows, it could have a spyware on it. He’ll sell it and buy a phone that isn’t hacked instead—but he won’t tell Ren that. 

        “Thanks.” Andrew muttered. 

        “I’ll pay you cash the last of every month in the mail. (Y/N)’s rent is due every first of the month, so just place cash in a envelope and drop it off at the landlord’s mailbox in the front. Purchase your groceries online and all that. You probably know everything else now.” Ren explained. 

        Andrew watched as Ren dragged the suitcase out of the front door, a feeling of dread washing over Andrew as he spoke. 

        “Hey.” 

        Ren turned around, an amused smirk on his face, as if he was challenging Andrew to defy him. “Yes?”

        “Please… just take care of (Y/N).” Andrew muttered, her name feeling like poison to his throat.

        “Of course. I’ve always taken care of her.” Ren smiled. 

        Andrew and Ren had different ideas of ‘care’, but it won’t concern Andrew anymore after today.

        “Bye now!” Ren waved, walking down the apartment steps with the suitcase (Y/N) was in.

        Andrew said nothing, watching him walk away, before he finally left his view. Andrew shut the door, shutting them both out of his life.

        .

        .

        “And that’s how you’re here!” Ren smiled, watching as (Y/N) squirmed and tried to kick, her efforts fruitless as she was strapped to an expensive chair. 

        “Shut up! I hate you! I hate you, cunt!” she screamed, trying to bang her head bang onto the chair, but the straps around her forehead didn’t allow that.

        “There’s no point in screaming; we’re in the middle of nowhere! Have you forgotten where our home is already?” Ren chirped.

        “This isn’t my home!” (Y/N) shouted.

        This is no home. This is Hell, pure Hell as she stared down the Devil. 

        There is no home for her, only settlements until she ups and moves to the next location. This should’ve never happened.

        “How… how did you even find me?” (Y/N) muttered.

        “I’ve been keeping a close eye on your parents. I had an AirTag in their car, so when they left town, it notified me and I followed them.” Ren explained. “They led me right to your apartment! So when they stayed the night, I hired a hitman to kill your parents when they leave town, do whatever so they just controlled an AI car to crash into the gas pump, hence the explosion at the gas station that killed your parents!” Ren beamed, as if the story was something to be proud of.

        Fucking Apple. Whoever made AirTags probably made them under the guise to stalk his wife, or husband, no judgment. 

        “You’re terrible.” (Y/N) muttered.

        She looked around the room, trying to find anything to aid her escape, but it was fruitless. She was stuck in Ren’s bedroom, in a pricey chair with fancy restraints that he no doubt planned for her to be strapped in. 

        She’d be watched while Ren is here, and even if Ren led to go work at his father’s prison that he’ll inherit when his father dies, there’s probably a camera and microphone hiding somewhere in the room to supervise (Y/N) while she’s away.

        She had no way of escaping due to these damn rubber straps preventing her movement, she can’t even tilt her head. The chair was screwed into the ground, preventing her from even lifting up the chair or knocking it over.

        “Why can’t you just leave? Leave me alone!” (Y/N) exclaimed, pissed off. 

        “Oh, my angel. You’ll understand one day that this is all because of my love for you.” Ren cooed, reaching out and cradling his hand on her cheek.

        She tried to snap back and bite his finger, but the straps preventing her from tilting her head to bite him, trapped and felt vulnerable to whatever he wants. 

        “I really don’t think you understand the gravity of your situation, pretty. You do know that I can easily turn you into the police?” Ren smiled.

        “You won’t.” (Y/N) challenged. “You’d miss me too much.”

        “I can just visit you in prison everyday and night. Besides, my father owns the place, so I can do whatever I want.” Ren hummed, smirking as he knew the advantages he has to this situation. 

        (Y/N) frowned, annoyed as she looked away from him.

        If only this chair was a normal wooden chair, then she’d just bang the chair legs down on the ground until they cracked and broke the chair. Or at the very least, alert neighbors in the apartment; but Ren lived in the middle of nowhere. Curse this secluded private town and it’s distance from neighbors—the only time she’ll complain about having privacy.

        Either way, she’s trapped. It’s not like anyone in this town is even aware that she’s back, or would they even care considering her reputation here is worse than a sewer rat’s. If anything, they’d probably say she deserves it. 

        Is this to pay for my sins? (Y/N) thought to herself, shutting her eyes.

        There’s nothing to do but accept the situation. Maybe after a few months or years, he’ll let her out of the chair and she’ll be able to escape after building enough rapport (because she seriously doubts she’ll develop Stockholm Syndrome for this bastard). 

        (Y/N) chuckled, laughing to herself at the bizarreness of the situation. 

        Her father’s kindness to see her turned into her ultimate demise. Or perhaps it was her fault for writing her parents contact information as an emergency contact for her hospitalization. 

        Everything just always seems to come and bite her back in the ass.

        “So what happened with Andrew?” (Y/N) questioned, smiling. “Did you kill him too after he drugged me?” 

        “No, he’s alive.” Ren answered.

        “Shocking.” (Y/N) commented.

        “Well, we did make a deal after all. I don’t go against my word.” Ren smiled.

        “Funny, considering you said you’d protect me; yet you’re the only threat.” (Y/N) scoffed. “You didn’t protect me from Ashley or Penelope either. Some protector you are.”

        “Well I could’ve protected you if you just didn’t run away! You and your silly little brain, angel.” Ren chuckled, smiling as he shook his head, like he was laughing at a toddler. “I am sad to have missed your first murder; but I at least saw your second!” Ren smiled, pulling out some photos of (Y/N) killing Penelope from his pocket, waving it in her face.

        (Y/N) frowned. So this was it, the rest of her life with the man in front of her. He has permanent blackmail on her, so even if she did somehow manage to escape, it’d be hard trying to get a whole new identity once a warrant would be out for her arrest, let alone trying to get a damn car to escape. 

        Damn you, Andrew… (Y/N) thought to herself, though she probably deserves this after killing his sister.

        A Grave for a Grave.

        .

        .

        Maddening. That’s how it felt without her. He hasn’t been able to sleep in three days, or was it four? He already can’t remember. It’s been a month, maybe a month and a half? He can barely get more than 3 hours of sleep a night, tossing and turning and tossing and turning in an endless loop. 

        God, he missed hugging her at night. Only a week of sleeping together in the same bed and he was already hooked on her warmth and softness that’s now permanently gone.

        Andrew’s always considered himself as an introverted guy, but it feels like living Hell by not being able to see her.

        He finds himself re-cooking the meals she’s made, scavenging through her drawers and cooking the recipes she left—but it never tasted like her cooking. 

        He finds himself using her bath products, reminiscing in the familiar scent—but it always missed the scent of just her.

        He finds himself sleeping in her bed alone, only the ghost of her cold touch hugging him, but it provided no warmth or comfort like she did. Even her scent was starting to fade from the sheets. He missed her touch. 

        He finds himself waiting by the front door for her, leaning against the wall, sitting on the floor, peeking out the peephole looking for her; but he knows deep down he won’t see her. He just wanted to see her again. 

        It was his fault after all, he was the one that turned her in. He probably didn’t have much of a choice anyways, it was either that or die, but honestly death seems like a much more bearable situation than having to deal with the burden of loneliness and isolation. 

        Her phone was left on the charger. He had retrieved it from her purse and used it to call Ren and take her away, but he regrets the decision now.

        He managed to crack the password on the fourth day of living without her. It was annoying, but he didn’t have her thumb to unlock it, and it was hard trying to come up with a password since she regularly changed her password as she does with other things in the apartment. 

        After meeting Ren, he understands her paranoia of security.

        He unplugged her phone and looked through her pictures. She barely had any, only pictures of her in high school with who he can only assume were old friends. One had blonde hair with pink highlights and the other had strong muscles and short black hair. 

        The picture was taken from an angle. (Y/N) sat on a couch with a computer and notebooks in her lap as she wrote. Meanwhile, black hair was taking up some of the couch as she leaned on the armrest, glaring at the blonde who intruded on the picture with half of her head in the way. 

        The black hair looked like the brawns, the pink hair looked like the beauty (though Andrew thought [Y/N] was just as pretty, if not more), and (Y/N) looked like the brains. 

        Other pictures included her family farm, some good harvests of the year, pictures of old CD’s she listened to in high school, and old church gatherings.

        Andrew found himself staring at her in the pictures, wondering why he never took a picture with her to remember.

        He looked closer at the church pictures and saw one of the whole church members combined. (Y/N) stood in a blue dress with a white bow on it, and standing a few persons away from her was Ren, staring at her at he wore a white button-up and black slacks.

        That damn man… Andrew thought, annoyed.

        Even in their teen years, he was pestering her.

        He swiped through more photos, finding more of her family farm, before noticing a picture that caught his eye.

        It was a picture of a smaller (Y/N), a few years before her pre-teens, standing next to a wagon filled with a berry harvest. She posed in front of a sign that said (L/N) Family Farm: Fresh is Best below the big font, there was an address.

        12920 N Estrella Lane, 39302, Luna, GE

        Wait a second.

        Andrew plugged the address into the phone maps, coming up with an address 34 hours away. 

        There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation the way he shot up from bed, scrambling to find his shoes. He grabbed a trash bag, piling some clothes, phone charger, and snacks into the bag. He put on a jacket (Y/N) bought him and a disposable mask he found in (Y/N)’s drawers. He picked up his wallet, an envelope of money Ren mailed to him, (Y/N)’s car keys, and something helpful from (Y/N)’s drawer. 

        He locked the door behind him, hopping into (Y/N)’s car Ren left considering he couldn’t trust (Y/N) to drive with him (nor would he allow her to drive anywhere and escape him again). 

        Andrew put the keys into the engine and plugged the (L/N) Family Farms into the car’s GPS. 

        It wouldn’t give him an exact location, but it’s at least a start. If Ren followed (Y/N)’s parents from their farm, then they must live in the same town. It at least gives Andrew a place to start searching. 

        Andrew just has to make a quick stop before he confronts Ren. Hopefully, nothing bad has happened to (Y/N) during this past month.

        .

        .

        “Darla Carving got 8 years for poisoning her husband, under the charge of attempted murder.” Ren explained, sitting on his bed, eating some grilled chicken.

        (Y/N) tuned him out, annoyed as she stared at the wall.

        “Remember how we went to school with her? She used to be an artist, but now she’s just an inmate.” Ren smiled. “But hey, maybe she’ll be the next Van Gough in prison, I’d buy a piece—you’re not listening again.” Ren frowned.

        (Y/N) rolled her eyes, annoyed. “Can’t you just shut up and eat?”

        “Speaking of food…” Ren smiled, setting down his plate onto his nightstand. “It’s time for you to eat!”

        (Y/N) frowned, already clamping her mouth shut, biting her teeth together.

        “Now, now, it’ll be easier for the both of us if you just listen.” Ren smiled.

        “No!” (Y/N) snapped, watching as Ren grabbed a bowl of tomato soup from the dresser.

        “Say ah.” Ren smiled, holding a spoon to (Y/N)’s mouth.

        (Y/N) kept her mouth shut. She would turn her head the other way if it wasn’t for the straps holding her head still.

        Ren gave up trying to gently spoon it into her mouth, before grabbing her chin and forcing her mouth open, jabbing the spoon down her throat, before scooping up more soup and repeating the process.

        Ren finished trying after some scoops, making sure she swallowed before placing the spoon down.

        “See? It doesn’t get any harder, only you make it tough.” Ren smiled, setting the bowl down onto the nightstand.

        (Y/N) grimaced, closing her eyes as she gave him the silent treatment.

        “Soon the Rohyopnol will kick in, then we’ll get you your bath!” Ren cheered.

        The tomato soup was laced with Rohyopnol, it just makes it easy for Ren to carry her around, hold her, and bathe her without (Y/N) trying to escape, considering she’ll be dead asleep.  

        “What pajamas today? Black or purple?” Ren hummed, holding up two pairs of pajamas, both with pants and long sleeves since she’s not allowed to sleep with a blanket in case she tries choking herself (as if she can escape the straps). 

        (Y/N) stayed firm with her silent treatment, ignoring him. She had 30 minutes before the Rohypnol kicks in and she’ll lose consciousness—she plans on spending that time being petty and spiteful. 

        (Y/N) kept her eyes closed, ignoring him like a child would.

        If you can’t see it, it’s not real.

        “Look at me.” Ren snapped, grabbing her lower jaw. “Stop being difficult.”

        (Y/N) kept ignoring him. 

        “I wish you’d just accept your situation. It’s been a month now, can’t we just get along?” Ren frowned.

        (Y/N) mentally rolled her eyes, annoyed.

        At this point, she’ll suffer from muscle dystrophy being stuck in this chair all the time with no exercise. Perhaps she can bargain with Ren on that; have time out of the chair and regain her strength until she can escape. 

        “Listen to me!” Ren exclaimed, desperate for control even with the upperhand in this situation. “Why don’t you ever listen, Angel? Is it really so bad? I could do worse such as—“         

        A shot rang out through the room, Ren collapsing to the floor, hunched over.

        “What the f—“ Ren looked up to be met with the barrel of a gun, Andrew’s holding the trigger before quickly pulling it without any hesitation.

        “You know, you’d think a guy like this would have security or even good quality locks.” Andrew commented, sighing before he looked over at (Y/N)

        (Y/N) froze, unsure if he was a threat or not. He had traded her in, and now he has a gun after turning against Ren. Will he turn on her again?

        “(Y/N)…” Andrew spoke, taking in the sight of her, happy to see her before he noticed the straps on the chair.

        He walked over to her, walking behind and undoing the leather straps attached to the chair, releasing her.

        She stood up, stumbling a bit as she grabbed the nearby nightstand for support. 

        “What the fuck is your issue?!” she spat aggressively, her legs shaking before collapsing onto the ground near Ren’s bleeding corpse. 

        It was a pathetic sight, like watching a newborn fawn try and stand up on their nimble legs. 

        “Get away!” she snapped.

        “(Y/N), shh. It’s okay.” Andrew frowned, concerned as he crouched down to her level.

        “Who do you think you are?! Some hero?” she spat out, hitting his chest. “You think you can just show up and everything is suddenly sunshine and rainbows? What’s your intentions?” 

        “(Y/N), I just wanted to help.” Andrew spoke, fighting her hits, placing the gun in his waistband and grabbing her shoulders. “Hey, listen.”

        “I hate you!” she spat.

        “Can’t you shut up?” Andrew hissed, annoyed. “I made a mistake, okay? I wasn’t thinking, it was my life on the line!” 

        “How can you think you can save me when you’re the one that put me in this situation?!” (Y/N) scoffed in disbelief.

        “I had to do what I had to do!” Andrew snapped. “You said it yourself. ‘It’s yourself for life!’”

        “I didn’t mean trade me in though!” (Y/N) hissed.

        “You would’ve done the same in my shoes!” Andrew hissed. “You killed my sister for your life! I turned you in for my life!” 

        (Y/N) paused, annoyed at how she could see the semblance, even if the circumstances were a bit different. 

        “We’re even now, okay?!” Andrew spat.

        Almost. If anything, it felt like (Y/N) owed Andrew more. He killed her stalker and he saved her, meanwhile all she did was kill his sister and lie to him.

        She’ll take what she can get. She’s not stupid to try and push this on more when she doesn’t have any good cards in her hand.

        “Okay… okay, I get it.” (Y/N) sighed, woozy as she sat down on Ren’s bed.

        She ignored the shiver of disgust that crawled up her spine as she sat down on Ren’s slumber spot. While (Y/N) sat in the chair in the dark, she could hear Ren’s peaceful slumbers as he slept under warm blankets.

        “I… just want you to know, he gave me some Rohypnol.” (Y/N) explained. “It’s gonna kick in eventually, so I can’t do much.”

        It was probably a small pill crushed up and distributed throughout the entire soup, so she probably didn’t drink enough to make her pass out, only enough to be drowsy and possibly caused temporary slow mental processing. 

        Andrew nodded, looking around Ren’s room before rummaging through his nightstand.

        He found a tissue box, some Rohypnol pill capsules, a bottle of lotion, and some polaroids of (Y/N).

        “Ick.” Andrew groaned, rolling his eyes, already guessing what this drawer was used for.

        “What?” (Y/N) questioned, trying to peek over his shoulder.

        “Don’t worry about it…” Andrew muttered, closing the drawer.

        “What are you looking for?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “This.” Andrew smirked, holding up Ren’s wallet.

        How alike they are; they kill someone and they rob them. It’s not the like the dead person will need it anyways.

        “Let’s go.” Andrew spoke.

        “If we drop by the bank, I can use an ATM and draw out money from him.” (Y/N) spoke.

        “You know his username and password?” Andrew questioned.

        “Please. His username is his first and last name, and his password is my birthday.” (Y/N) scoffed.

        “How cute.” Andrew commented sarcastically, stepping over Ren’s lifeless corpse.

        “Not!” (Y/N) snapped, glaring at him.

        Andrew led (Y/N) out of the house, glad that Ren lives on acres upon acres, therefore having no nearby neighbors. 

        “You stole my car?” (Y/N) huffed, walking out of the house as she saw her car parked near the gate.

        “How else did I get here? Public transport?” Andrew scoffed, taking the keys out of his pocket. “I’m driving.”

        “Yeah, duh. If I did, I’d fall asleep behind the wheel.” (Y/N) spoke in a ‘duh’ tone, hopping into the passenger seat.

        “Moody…” Andrew muttered under his breath, annoyed.

        “You’re the one that practically sold me for some money!” (Y/N) snapped. “Of course I’m moody!”

        “And it was for my life.” Andrew added. “Besides that, what’s next? Back to your place?” Andrew questioned.

        (Y/N) paused, thinking. 

        She can’t go back. Penelope’s dead, and even though Ren erased the store’s camera footage, there’s probably a backup file on an ICloud somewhere. Even if the evidence was completely removed, she doesn’t feel safe going back to that city.

        Ren might’ve told someone about her old dwelling, probably his dad, current owner of the jailhouse she was living in for some weeks before Ren bailed her out. If Ren is found dead in his home, (Y/N) would be a major suspect.

        Even if she did decide to go back to that apartment, she doesn’t want to live in that shitty city anymore, not with all the crazy shit that’s happened there.

        She needs to move away. 

        “Wanna go on a roadtrip?” (Y/N) smiled.

        “Where to?” Andrew questioned, confused.

        “Go back to our apartment. We’ll pack up our stuff, sell the car, and take a train.” (Y/N) explained.

        “Why the sudden idea? Are your intrusive thoughts winning over?” Andrew raised an eyebrow, putting the keys into the ignition.

        “Okay, look. You’re stuck with me; and I’m stuck with you. We have too much blackmail on each other—both ends. So we might as well stick together to keep each other quiet.” (Y/N) explained. “It’s too dangerous for us to go back and stay. Not with all the murders recently. They’ll think it’s you since your home city is just a few cities over. And when they find evidence showing it’s me, it’s over for me too. You need me for money; I need you to keep quiet.” 

        “Yeah, sounds about right…” Andrew sighed. “So, an official truce now, right?” 

        “Seal the deal with a kiss?” she questioned, smiling.

        Andrew looked over at her, smirking. “Ah, but I thought you were still throwing a temper tantrum?”

        “I’m over it. You were reasonable.” (Y/N) hummed, smiling. “A few pecks could really help me, though.”

        Andrew smiled, placing his elbow on the glovebox and leaning on it, leaning in and quickly pecking her awaiting lips.

        “Hey!” (Y/N) frowned, unsatisfied with the rushed kiss. 

        “You said a peck." Andrew smirked.

        “You know damn well I didn’t mean that! A real kiss!” she huffed, grabbing him by the collar and kissing his lips more firmly, staying there for a few seconds before pulling away. 

        “Women. You give them what they want and they want more.” Andrew playfully sighed, grinning at her.

        “Ahaha. Get going and drive, chauffeur.” (Y/N) hummed.

        “Yes, ma’am.” Andrew teased, driving out of the driveway. “There’s some chips in the back if you want them. Have a real snack.” 

        “I’m gonna take a nap and sleep off the pills…” (Y/N) spoke. “When I wake up, I can take turns driving next.”

        “Sure.” Andrew smiled.

        As if. He thought, mentally scoffing. There’s no way he’s letting her drive, he’s a gentleman after all!

        “You just sit back and get some shuteye…” Andrew hummed, placing his hand on her thigh while driving.

        .

        .

        “All set?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “All set.” Andrew nodded, smiling. “Granola?” he offered, holding out a wrapped bar as he snacked on one himself.

        “Thanks.” (Y/N) smiled, taking the granola bar in her hands, watching as Andrew swiftly picked up her bags. “Hey! You did that to distract me.”

        “You’re just too slow is all.” Andrew smirked, carrying the luggage to the car.

        “Mm… right.” She smiled, shutting the door and locking it. 

        Andrew prepared the car while (Y/N) turned the apartment keys to the complex owner. She exited, finding Andrew waiting for her in the driver’s seat.

        “Hey, I should be driving. That’s my car.” (Y/N) frowned.

        “Not in 30 minutes. It’ll be someone else’s from Craigslist.” Andrew smiled. “Now hop in before we’re late to meet them.” 

        (Y/N) smiled, getting into the passenger seat. Andrew drove out to a public supermarket to meet the new owner of the car. (Y/N) negotiated with the customer and managed to snag a few thousands for the used car. 

        (Y/N) took a cab with Andrew to the train station, getting a first class booth so that they could have a closing door for privacy, that way nobody noticed their faces.

        “Hey, look. You’re on the news…” Andrew spoke, although not happy for the news as he pointed his phone (he got from Ren) to her.

        “It was only a matter of time for them to find Penelope’s body and the security footage. It must’ve produced a foul smell in that box and—hey! That photo is so unattractive!” (Y/N) exclaimed, cringing at her photo.

        A photo of her three years ago, the photo for her legal driver’s license. Her hair was messy and her eyes had sunken in with black eye bags under them, showing her malnutrition since at the time she was homeless in her car.

        “Yeah, not so pretty compared to you now…” Andrew hummed, holding up the photo to her to compare.

        "Stop that!” (Y/N) huffed, snatching his phone. 

        “I’m just saying!” Andrew chuckled, smiling before it dropped. “Hey, you sure about this?”

        “Don’t worry…” (Y/N) smiled. “Well come back, for Ashley and Hailey. I promised them flowers after all.”

        “You promised them flowers? Even Ashley?” Andrew questioned, surprised.

        “Of course I did.” (Y/N) frowned. “She might’ve been… a specimen, but she was still a human after all. I mean, I’m supposed to be saving lives as a nurse, whether they’re a kid or not.” 

        Andrew nodded, looking at the window and smiling, before changing the subject. “Where we going anyways?”

        “I dunno…” (Y/N) hummed, thinking. “Greenland?”

        “And freeze my ass off?” Andrew huffed. “No.”

        “Don’t you wanna see the northern lights. It’ll be so romantic!” (Y/N) cooed. 

        “Huddling together for warmth like penguins under solar rays?” Andrew smiled, grabbing her waist and pulling her into his side, resting his arm around her shoulder. “Maybe that can be a vacation one day. I don’t feel like starting a fire all the time.”

        “They still have heating there…” (Y/N) pouted.

        “No. No yearly winter.” Andrew spoke firmly.

        “Fine. Iceland?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “We can’t go out of states, dummy. We need passports.” Andrew groaned. “Meaning they’ll discover our identities and we’ll take a vacation to prison instead.” 

        “Let’s take a cruise then.” (Y/N) chirped. “I’m sure not all cruises or boats check passports! Let them leave without us and boom, we stay!” 

        “So persistent.” Andrew hummed. “Okay, maybe. But I don’t want to live in a damn city, I’ll tell you that. Find a town to live in.” 

        “A town where we can see the northern lights.” (Y/N) huffed.

        “Deal.” Andrew smiled. 

        “Seal the deal with a kiss?” (Y/N) questioned.

        Andrew smiled. He’s definitely come to enjoy their promise kisses.

        Andrew leaned in, kissing her soft lips for a few seconds, before pulling away.

        “Sealed.” He murmured.

        “Good.” She smiled, pecking his lips again for extra measures. 

        She rested her head on his chest, looking out the train window at the scenary.

        It doesn’t matter where she lives. She’ll find another  hospital to work at after completing her degree at one of the Treegrowth hospitals for a falsified certificate. It's not the best to becoming a good person, but it's something; however, as long as she has Andrew, she has a feeling things will turn out just fine.

A huge thank you to those who have been following this little book since day one, and a huge thank you to every new reader who just made it here. I truly couldn’t have done this without each and every one of you. All your comments and positivity and criticism helped me tweak my writing to just not mine, but yours.

If you want to read more Andrew Graves x reader stories of mine, congrats! I will be doing an Andrew Graves x Two-Faced! Serial Killer! Reader! I hope to see you there!

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for requests!

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, final chapter (current).

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

[ch0k3herwithaseaview]

@jegulus-microfic | march 27 birthday | words: 780

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BABY!!! i had fun writing this one so i hope y’all have fun reading;3

tw: walburga appears, suicidal tendencies (it’s brief and probably not many of you will think of it that way but still)

Regulus wasn't the type to make grand romantic gestures; it was always James.

For example, when he took Regulus on their first date—not just a meeting in the middle of the night at the Astronomy Tower, but a real date—James’ found this beautiful meadow in the Forbidden Forest, near the Black Lake. Regulus thinks it must have taken the other boy at least half a day to get the place ready, because when they arrived, there were Christmas lights hanging in the trees, a record player was standing next to one of them, quietly playing some Elvis song, and in the middle there was a warm-looking blanket with candles, flowers, steaming food, fruit, and something that looked like a bottle of elvish wine. It is safe to say Regulus was in complete awe.

The other time was just a few weeks later, when it was Regulus’ birthday. James did not buy it, but he made him a little crooked silver ring with antlers engraved on it. When the younger boy asked how exactly he did it, James just shrugged and said, ‘Dad thought me’ like it was the most obvious answer in the world. And, okay, they were wizards, so it wasn’t the hardest thing for them to transfigure something into something else, but when Regulus later tried to reverse any spells cast on the ring, nothing happened, which meant not only did James make it himself, but he also made it without any magic. What a guy, that one.

When James and Sirius came to Grimmauld one night that summer to rescue Regulus and Walburga caught them, threatening to kill all three boys, Potter straightened up, holding his wand out in front of her confidently.

"Leave them alone; if you want to kill someone, try me." As he said this, the woman raised her hand to cast the killing curse, but James was faster; with one smooth gesture, he had her stunned and bound. After they disapparated, landing in Potter Manor, both Blacks started shouting at him for his recklessness and stupidity, while they hugged him tight.

Regulus could talk about every amazing thing James did to prove his love for hours—there were so many. But when it came to his own grand gestures, the list ended at one: when he sent Avery and Mulciber to the Hospital Wing with the skin melted off of their faces after throwing two Bludgers at James at the same time. So, he made exactly zero romantic gestures for almost a whole year of dating James.

Fortunately, the 27th of March was approaching, and with it, his boyfriend’s birthday.

On Friday morning, while the whole Great Hall was having a rather loud breakfast, Regulus scanned the Gryffindor’s table to find—aha!

Spotting that bright smile on the other side, Regulus pulled out the big box he had hidden beneath the bench and sent it flying through the whole room with one flick of a wand. Everyone was looking at it in almost complete silence, waiting in anticipation to see where it would land. Regulus stole one glance in the direction it was going and noticed three different expressions: James looked like he would burst out crying any second, Sirius' face twisted into something between admiration and disgust, and Remus and Peter looked like one was having the time of his life and the other was about to choke from laughing.

As the package landed carefully in James’ laps, everyone went so quiet you could hear a fly buzzing. The Gryffindor opened the box with shaky hands, looking right back up when he saw what was inside. His mouth kept opening and closing while looking at Regulus. The whole student body turned to look at him, but his eyes were trained on James’. Still to this day, Regulus has no idea what got into him at that moment, but he stood up and strode to James with a smug expression.

Reaching the birthday boy, Regulus leaned forward, took his face in his hands, and kissed him softly on the lips; James immediately reciprocated. The kiss was nothing like what they shared in the broom cupboards, in the Come-and-Go Room, or even at the Astronomy Tower; this one was the best of all of them—slow, sweet, and, oh, so full of love.

When they parted, Regulus could finally hear the whispers echoing throughout the room, making it seem as if someone had locked him in a hive. He didn’t care. All he cared for was the handsome man in his hands.

“Joyeux dix-huitième anniversaire, amour de ma vie,” Regulus whispered against James’ lips, feeling the other smiling broadly. Yeah, he thought, this one counts as romantic.

translation: happy eighteenth birthday, love of my life

[aftgficrec]

Can you please suggest fics where neil and bee have more interactions. Or even ones about andrew and bee talking about neil or anything else

Btw I really really appreciate everything yall do! God bless you.

Here is what we found for you. -A

Neil/andreil talk to Bee:

Neil goes to therapy here

‘we softly stir the violence’ and ‘Healing’ series parts 1 & 3 here

‘“I wish I'd never…”’ here

‘Andrew Minyards Crystal’ here

‘pain our brain has made’ here (updated)

‘not to blame for falling’ series and ‘sidelines’ here

‘on the tip of my tongue (say something)’ series here (completed)

‘Andrew and Neil's guide to getting better’ series here

‘True Love Waits’ series here

‘Cyberstalking’ here

‘Promises’ here

‘A Taste of Your Own Medicine’ here

‘The Massive Continuity of Ducks’ and ‘Ghost of You’ here

‘A collection of Andreil one-shots’ ch 3 here

‘I Don't Know’ here

‘The Destination Was Always Forever’ (updated), ‘Minyard-Josten Rivalry’ (updated), ‘sunrise, abram’ series, ‘and in a flash, it's gone.’ series part 2, and ‘Stay Where I Can Reach’ here

Andrew talks to Bee about Neil:

previous ask here

‘Unspoken’ here

‘AFTG Drabbles’ parts 1 & 8 here

‘Paper Cut Hearts’ here

‘the shuffling of cards’ here

‘words can't warm the windows of my soul’ here

‘The Hand That Needs Me’ here

‘Mother Mannequin’ here

‘Anything’ here

‘the icarus to your certainty’ here

‘No straighter path than to struggle’ here

‘Can we can pretend like we're (not) in love?’ here

Neil Josten is Not Fine by Anonymous [Rated T, 3362 Words, Complete, AFTG Then & Never 2024]

After weeks of nightmares and an embarrassing discovery, Neil finally decides to pay Betsy a visit.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: nightmares, tw: bedwetting

i'll take anything you have (if you could throw me a line) by ifitmeanslosingyou [Rated M, 923 Words, Complete, 2024]

the sunrise can be pretty, neil thinks, but instead of the pinks and oranges washing him with ease, neil can’t help the panic at the thought that he’s been up here for longer than he planned to he wonders if anyone has even realized he left the dorms in the first place, wonders if andrew even looked when neil left the bedroom, wonders if he gave up, wonders if he finally came to his senses and realized neil was more trouble than he’s worth wonders if the roof of the court is high enough that the fall would kill him day 31: asking for help | therapy | “i’m alive, i’m just not well”

tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced self harm

help, I've lost myself again (but I remember you) by abitsillygoofy [Not Rated, 5320 Words, Complete, 2024]

“Neil we have to talk about it,” Betsy said “I don’t think so” Neil replied “Nope, not happening” He popped the p at the end trying to make the woman mad at him. “You just tried to kill yourself, so I think we have to have this talk” Betsy didn’t seem bothered by his act and kept her nice, neutral facial expression, but unlike on his session looked worried too. or Neil wakes up in the hospital after his suicide attempt and has to face what he did.

tw: suicide attempt, tw: self harm, tw: blood

keep telling me that it gets better (does it ever?) by phan_taloon [Rated M, 15415 Words, Complete, 2022, Locked]

Previously recced here

AU where Neil never met the Foxes, with a little less mafia and a little more pain for Neil when he ends up captured by Nathan for months, and has to deal with the consequences by himself. He ends up in treatment for chronic pain with opioids, and let's just say opioid use is tricky when you're alone and in pain; one thing can lead to another more easily than it seems.

tw: drug addiction, tw: drug overdose, tw: withdrawal, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: vomit

an acquired taste the asbestos is lovely by cyanica [Rated M, 6617 Words, Complete, 2024, Locked]

“What did you take?” Andrew demands. Neil wonders if Andrew will taste all that is wrong with Neil when he kisses him. He wonders if Andrew will recognize it. Andrew knows what it is to hurt himself, and this must be familiar. It’s deja vu, Neil thinks, if only a little bit worse, a little more terrible. Neil shakes his head, groaning into the toilet, “I don’t want to tell you.” Andrew pulls out his phone, and Neil can already hear it dialling when he says, “You can tell the paramedics.” Or; “Cigarettes,” Neil says. “I ate your cigarettes.”

tw: self harm, tw: overdose, tw: pica, tw: eating disorders, tw: vomit, tw: blood, tw: mental breakdown, tw: implied/referenced abuse

If it means protecting you (I’ll pay my dues) by Intangibel (duskbutterfly) [Rated T, 125462 Words, Incomplete, Updated April 2023]

Previously recced here

What if the threat of Aaron being charged with murder was more significant and Neil found out that he could prevent Andrew from having to be at the trial if he were to testify. What would he be willing to sacrifice to achieve that? What if instead of refusing to testify for Aaron, Neil decides to make a deal with the FBI to become their witness against his father if they’ll backstop his current identity. He thinks it means signing his death warrant and losing the Foxes. Betsy, Aaron and the Foxes are determined to convince him it doesn’t have to be all or nothing, his father’s people are coming for him and that’s not even starting on what Andrew will have to say about Neil choosing to martyr himself.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: child abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: scars, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: homophobia, tw: conversion camp reference, tw: reenactment therapy with noncon

The Sun Still Rises by mordax [Rated E, 474451 Words, Incomplete, Updated Oct 2024]

Previously recced here

Somewhere on the road, Mary Hatford gets pregnant with her second child. When she passes, she leaves behind not only Neil, but his toddler brother. Survival is difficult without also raising a kid. Worn out and desperate, Neil still somehow ends up at Palmetto, only this time, he brings his four-year-old brother with him.

tw: violence, tw: anxiety, tw: panic attacks,  tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: drug use, tw: involuntary sedation, tw: reenactment therapy with noncon

NB: find fanart for this fic by @/elidanus on twitter here

Ain’t it fun by jemejem [Rated T (we say M) 30672 Words, Complete, 2018]

Neil can't sleep. Andrew can't feel. High school is going well for the both of them.

tw: homophobia, tw: mental breakdown, tw: anxiety, tw: depression, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: suicide attempt, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: scars, tw: ptsd, tw: psychological trauma, tw: flashbacks

I been here all along (so why can't you see?) by alexcherry [Rated G, 8691 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew leans on the counter beside Neil's thigh. "Where do you want to go, Josten? What favor do you need from me?" Neil looked at Andrew and steeled himself. "I want you to come with me to the next therapy session with Betsy posing as my boyfriend." "Like one," Andrew thought for a moment. "Couple therapy?" Neil perked up. "Yes! Exactly, and then we see how long it takes her to find out we're not connected at all."

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder

If You Need Shelter by AfraidOfBananas [Rated M, 2642 Words, Complete, 2021]

“The boy is staring at Neil with a startled expression like he’s just seen a ghost. Well, maybe he has. Neil hasn’t felt alive for a very long time.” Or.....Neil meets Andrew while he’s on the run

Family by BlueJay26 [Not Rated, 9420 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. Three adults who certainly proved this was true, and their (sort of) children who realised a family isn't always linked by blood. Also known as, how Abby, Bee and Wymack earned their family's love and trust.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: internalized homophobia

Art

Abby and Betsy art by @rainbowd00dles 

Betsy 💕💕 art by @neroholik

Mom and Dad and Mom art by @llstarcasterll

Betsy and Abby 💖 art by @jeannemaybedarc

Betsy Dobson cosplay by @/toobeetofunction on instagram

@drbetsydobson instagram account/moodboard

[milestonekestrel]

Survivor’s Guilt

Caz survives AU hurt/comfort with Suze as the pov! Requested by: @thisbeartblog!

It´s a little different from the prompt, but an idea took root and I needed to write it, so here you go!

**Content warnings for: suicidal ideation**

Suze was tired. Her bones were weary, and it just about hurt to open her eyes.

But she did anyway, because Caz was not with her. 

Sometimes it felt a little bit like taking care of a child, and there were moments where she felt angry about it. Then she remembered that Caz was the only survivor of the disappearance of the Beira D, and she remembered the searing pain of worry when she saw him in that hospital room, looking so, so much like he was dying. And the relief that almost knocked her off her feet when the doctors told her he was going to be alright. And the love she felt for him in his moments of clarity. 

And she would no longer be angry, because she could´ve left him already, and she was still here, so maybe it was worth it. 

She shuffled downstairs, where she suddenly stopped, her tired muscles snapping back to life. She plugged her nose. 

Gas. It smelled like gas. 

¨Caz?¨ she called out, wary of waking the girls. Creeping to the kitchen, she thought the smell was coming from there. Did someone leave the stove on? ¨Caz.¨

She came around the corner, where she found him leaning against the counter, holding–

¨J-JESUS CHRIST, CAZ! PUT THAT DOWN!¨ 

She lunged forward, swiping the lighter (unlit, thank christ) from his hands. It was only then that he stirred from his reverie, and looked at her. He didn't look upset, really, or particularly malicious. Just a bit hollow, a bit sunken, and very tired. 

¨Wh--what the hell do you think you're doing? This–¨ she waved the lighter, ¨could've killed you!¨

¨..I know.¨

She was so preoccupied in her thoughts, angrily turning the stove off, that she almost didn't catch it. 

¨You...you what?¨ she looked at him, he didn't meet her eyes, ¨Oh, Jesus, Caz. don´t tell me you were–¨

¨ya don´t fucking get it, Suze!¨ his outburst made her recoil, he was usually so quiet these days. His eyes finally met hers, it was almost agonizing, the pain and the terror in them, knowing she couldn't do anything about it. She tried, she really did, but she wasn't knowledgeable about this kind of thing. Caz broke first, he always did.He put his head in his hands and sank to the floor. ¨I was never supposed to make it off that rig… I was.. I´m not supposed to be here..¨ His shoulders shook with sobs, Suze knelt down and reached her hand out. Caz flinched away. ¨No– I, I'm supposed to be dead. At the bottom of the sea, with–¨ His voice caught, and he shook his head, ¨And I think it wants me back..¨ 

Suze frowned, Caz brought ´it´ up often. 

¨Caz,¨ she started quietly, gently as she could muster, ¨You know you´re safe here, right? Nothing's coming for you, not as long as I´m here.¨ She offered a smile, his expression did not change. 

¨no, it's not coming for me.. It's coming for you.¨ Suze´s face fell before she could school it, ¨aye, the girls too, fuck– everyone, Suze. It's going to come for everyone and I think– I think it's gonna use me..¨ 

Suze was silent for a moment, what was she supposed to say? 

¨Caz, I–¨

¨i'm supposed to be dead.¨ He wailed, angling himself so he was closed off from her, ¨you should– you should let me go.¨ 

She felt a flash of indignation, ¨No! Caz, I´m not–¨ 

¨You don't understand!¨ 

¨Caz–¨

¨when I blew up the rig, I killed it–¨

¨Wait– Blew up–..?¨

¨but I was supposed to die there to, it was supposed to be gone!¨

¨Caz–¨

¨But I'm not, and there's still a piece of it alive–¨

¨Caz–!¨

¨Me! Suze, Its me!¨ 

Suze´s words left her, all she could do was try to fight back the tears that burned the backs of her eyes.

¨… Its.. its still inside me.. I´m infected, Suze. I can't– I can´t be here! I don't want to hurt–¨ He trailed off as she forcefully grabbed his shoulders. 

¨I´m not– we're not doing this, Caz! You´re not running away again!¨ Caz blinked in shock as the words poured out, ¨You´re not abandoning us, Caz! You don't want to hurt us? Then don't try to blow yourself up in our kitchen! Fuck– I don´t care what you think is after you, you can´t– you can´t do that..¨ Suze´s anger poured out in her tirade, leaving her with the same weariness she felt day in and day out.

Caz drew in a shaky breath, Suze felt the tension in his shoulders. 

¨..I´m sorry, for hurting you..¨

Suze exhaled involuntarily, her vision blurring from tears. 

¨F-fuck, no. I´m sorry, Caz, for yelling. I don't know– i´m not mad at you..¨ She saw her own sorrow reflected in his eyes, and she wished it wasn´t so hard anymore, ¨You're just… I thought I lost you, ya´know? Do you know what it felt like, seeing you like that?¨ She tried to regain her composure, ¨But you came back to me, Caz, and I… I´m not losing you again. I need you.. The girls, too. You can't leave us again, Caz..¨ 

Caz sniffed, and leaned into her. She quickly pulled him into an embrace, trying to comfort him so he would stop trembling. 

¨I don't know what happened on that rig, I– I didn't see it, but… christ, Caz, don´t do that ever again. It's not worth it..¨

He was silent for a while, before– ¨I´m scared, Suze.¨

She closed her eyes and held him close, ¨I know. I am, too. But, we can get through this together, okay?¨

He shook his head, ¨I know you don't believe me, but– I swear, i´m telling you the truth. I saw it with my own eyes, the– the Flesh, Suze. It was horrible. I can't– I can't let you and the girls go through that. What I saw– you–.. I can´t..¨ 

¨we won´t–¨

¨No, you– you don't know what it was like. It's– you can't stop it, when it begins. You can't run, or hide, or fight it.. Its awful..¨

She pulled away from him, looking into his eyes again, ¨Caz, listen to me–¨

¨Christ, what am I saying?¨ He offered a sardonic laugh, ¨You don't believe me, no one does.¨

¨No– I do. I do, Caz.¨

He paused, ¨..you do?¨

She smiled, ¨Aye. I believe you.¨ 

And he leaned back into her, and Suze´s face fell once more, because that was a lie. 

She didn't believe him– what was she supposed to believe? What could she gather from his ramblings about ´it´ and ´the flesh´? What he told her about– it was something she'd never dreamed up. Something no one had ever dreamed up. It was impossible to believe, and she didn´t, but she´d lied. She lied because she thought it would make it hurt less, for Caz, for herself… 

But it was still a lie. 

¨..I´m sorry, Suze. I.. I love you..¨

¨I love you, too.¨

And she meant it. She meant it because she was still here, after everything. After being given ´condolences´ for her husband by people she'd wanted to kick in the shins, after the comments from her parents, and their friends, who´d already thought she´d married below her. After the sleepless nights and the outbursts and everything, she was still here. Because she loved him, she loved him too much to let him run away, by his will or someone else´s. 

But if she loved him so much, why couldn't she believe him?

[yevmarie]

Light My Fire | Chapter 1

Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 >

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

Pronouns: you, she/her

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings:

angst;

mentions of depression;

implied suicidal thoughts;

swearing;

a lot of smoking (by main character as well. Sorry for making it as a social aspect here, I hope you won’t get it as if I encourage you or something);

Merle being pervert;

some differences from the main plot may occur;

poor English (not a first language, but I’ll be glad if you point on the mistakes, also may skip the southern accent as I’m not aware of it too much :( ), and poor written skills in general.

If I miss something, please let me know. I hope you enjoy :).

___

Your eyes are closed and your body trembling, desperately trying to hold your tears.

“Y/N,” The soft and calm woman's voice tells you. “Let’s recall the rectangular breathing. Inhale…” You inhaled through your nose for four seconds and stopped breathing for four seconds as well. “Exhale…” You exhaled slowly and then held your breath again. “Inhale…”

“Fuck it!” you swore and opened your eyes, stretching out your arm to the Parliament pack lying on the kitchen island. You were not happy with this habit but when your life went to shit you didn’t care.

This had been an awful year full of loss which unfortunately led to depression. You visited your psychiatrist regularly and this helped you to overcome a bit. At least you don’t start suddenly crying and coped to move on. Especially when your best friend, like almost your older brother, got to the hospital and there was no good news about his health condition. As an aunt (non-blood relative) of his son, you couldn’t give up just like that. But it seemed if you had a chance, you’d do it.

You lit the cigarette, inhaled, and continued pouring the coffee from Jezve to the small thermos. This was your everyday morning routine. After this ritual, you go to the park and prepare yourself mentally for the new day. Today’s situation was different, you wouldn’t go to the park, but you couldn’t prevent yourself from beginning the day normally at least partially, and for the last time.

The TV was turned on, and the host said with a trembling voice thousands of people got infected with an unknown disease and it led to chaos in several states and yours as well, many people died. Neighbors outside were screaming, children were crying. Everyone was rushing and trying to pack all their lives in their cars. You thanked God your parents weren’t here. Sounds blasphemous, but you couldn’t bear this weight upon your shoulders. When you were imagining the apocalypse while having one of your anxiety attacks, you swore yourself you would end up right at the beginning as this would be not life anymore, but dance with the death you didn’t wish to take part in.

But you are here. Fortunately staying calm (thanks to medication). You already packed your things after your friend (your ex), had called you and asked you to be prepared to move. He told you he’d come to your house and you then follow him in your car. Also, in case he succeeds in grabbing your best friend from the hospital, you can transport him as he was unconscious, and more space was needed for sure.

The man dressed in a sheriff uniform enters your house “Are you kidding? Coffee, really? What about mediation then?” he saw you looking at him with no emotion expressed on your face. He cooled down for a moment. “Have you grabbed the essentials?” you nodded in the direction of the bag laying near the door.

“Is the tank full?”

“As usual,” you mumbled “Shane” you breathed the smoke out of your lungs “Are Lori and Carl with you?”

“Sure, come on. And quit this shit, please.” he pointed at the cigarette and went outside your house.

You closed the thermos, switched off the TV, and went to your garage. In several minutes you were following Shane’s car. Carl turned back to you from Shane’s backseat car window and waved to you. You smiled and waved in response. Thanks God your last lifeline was safe and sound. You switched on the player and drove.

“Time to die

Hammer high

Name your price

And kneel

Hail the apocalypse

All flesh is equal when burnt

We are forgiven

Forgive as we never shall learn

Get down

Hail the apocalypse”

Shane turned to the highway and you nervously turned the steering wheel following him. Your eyes widened in shock. You grabbed the phone and called him.

“What’s the matter?” you screamed.

“My colleagues told me there was a shoout-out near the hospital. Need you all to get to a safer place. We’ll deal with Rick later.” You threw your phone away after the call ended. “Shit”.

The trip was short but unbearably lasting as you were always stuck in traffic jams. You can see the sun already went under. As you saw the road was blocked with cars and people fussing you turned the engine down. Shane got out of his car and went further into the crowd. After five minutes you saw him getting back approaching you.

“We need to stop here, the road is blocked. Let’s have a break and figure out what to do next.” you nodded and got out of your car. Shane went to Lori to tell the same. Carl opened the door and ran to you.

“I’m glad you are with us, Y/N.” said Carl squeezing your waist. You brushed his hair gently with your fingers and smiled in response. “Me too…”

“Carl” Lori called “Could you please come to me for a second?” Carl looked at you, smiled, and ran to his mother while she was looking at you concerned.

You switched your attention from Lori and took the Parliament pack out of your denim jacket, picked a cigarette, and realized you forgot the lighter at home. You started to look around and your sight captured the two men smoking standing near their car in front of yours. You approached them.

“Hey, could I ask for a lighter, please? I forgot mine at home”. The older grinned, sticking the tip of his tongue while observing your hips in black leggings moving his sight up and stopping at your breasts covered with the tank top of the same color as your leggings. He looked up at your eyes and sang “Come on baby, light my fire”. The younger burst out of anger and barked.

“Have ya not slept offa hangover yet, dumbass?”

“Woah, brother,” the older laughed and lowered his voice “Why are ya so tensed?” The younger started nervously biting his lips while the older’s mouth was in front of his ear. “Getting nervous because of the beautiful girl talking to ya?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

You just continued to watch a one-man show.

“Okay, won’t bother ya, my puss,” he laughed and stared at you measuring you up “My brother is such a shy guy. Please keep an eye on him while I go and let off my steam ‘cause of the hotty around” he blinked at you.

The younger looked angrily at his brother going away down to the wooded area near the road.

“What a gentleman…” you concluded.

“I’m sorry,” the younger grunted and looked at you blushing.

“Never mind, at least someone stays positive.” you smiled. The man put his hand in the pocket of his jeans and took out a light passing to you. You lit up your cigarette and inhaled. The lungs burned with pleasure while your head went a bit fainty as you haven’t eaten anything today yet. “Thanks,” you said and then went back to your car. You opened the door and took the thermos with coffee and a small tourist cup. The man was standing quietly and glared at you as if his gaze was an X-Ray that could reveal anything suspicious about you.

“Hey,” you looked at the man while pouring the coffee into the cup “What’s your name?”

“Daryl” he didn’t stop gazing with his cold blue eyes.

“Y/N. Wanna some coffee?”

“No, thanks,” he mumbled.

“Come on,” you approached him “The night will be long, you need to stay on your legs.”

He looked at you thinking the hell this bothers you. You read his thought as his expression was asking and added “Let’s consider this as the gesture of thanks as you saved my life from the lack of nicotine.” You chuckled.

“Thanks” he replied silently not stopping investigating you.

“Bring it back to me when you finish” You pointed at the cup and turned to go away to Shane as he had called you.

The man stayed confused holding the cup and looking at you while you went away.

“What a sweetie, huh? I’d spent some time with her on the backseat” Merle let Daryl know about his presence.

“Fuck off!”

Merle laughed and sang gazing at you talking to your friends “You know that it would be untrue. You know that I would be a liar…”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 >

[necroromantics]

Turns out its Mental Health Awareness Month this month.... So since yall know me and my tendency to yap about mental health issues, I'm going to share some of the ways I express mental health in my Creepypasta AUs (Cryptpasta AND Laundry and Taxes, mostly just for Toby and Clockwork). Its kinda long and a nonsensical ramble.... Enjoy

CRYPTPASTA

-Nina was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder when she was 15 after a visit to the psych ward due to attempted suicide after a bad fight with an online boyfriend of hers

-She's very desperate to be loved and cared for, and intensely fears being abandoned to the point she'll put herself in harms way in an impulsive attempt to get people to stay in her life, or care for her, or want to be with her

-She has so much love to give to the point it overwhelms her, and tends to come out of her in forms of jealousy and anger outbursts, and desperate attempts to make people stay, because Nina wants love, and to give love

-Nina is also a very loyal friend who is very ride or die. She knows what its like to be left out, abandoned, betrayed, and she couldn't imagine doing that to the people she loves

-Clockwork also has BPD, she was going to be treated for it during her stay in the psychiatrist hospital when she was 16, before she killed her family, but never got around to it

-Her BPD presents a bit differently than Ninas. Her fear of abandonment and betrayal causes her to push people away entirely, and she struggles a lot with splitting

-She goes from thinking fondly about someone, to thinking they're the worst person in the world who does nothing but hurt her, because hating someone is much easier than risking loving them to her. Clockwork struggles a lot with making and keeping friends, because she can't trust anyone, and she tends to push people away at the tiniest fault as a way to protect herself

-Toby is her Favourite Person (FP), but she tries her best to beat this attachment to him down. Luckily for her, she's stuck with him, and he has zero plans of betraying or hurting her in any way. She tends to split on him a lot though

-Clockwork struggles a lot with anger and emotional dysregulation, she tends to view things in black/white, all or nothing, and is very impulsive. Because her emotions are so overwhelming and guttural, Clockwork struggles to be able to express them at all, and has a very bad habit of beating all her feelings down

-Toby was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder when he was 15 after experiencing his first manic episode, where he got into a really bad fight with his dad, ran away from home, and got sent to a psychiatric hospital where he was given proper treatment

-After becoming a proxy, he didn't have access to treatment anymore, and a combination of stress, Slender Sickness, and a lack of sleep, causes him to have more frequent and intense episodes

-During his manic episodes he is very euphoric, always on the move, talks non-stop to the point he doesn't make any sense, has racing thoughts, is insanely energetic, rarely sleeps, and is much more aggressive and irritable. They usually last one or two weeks, but if they're really intense and he's experiencing psychosis, Tim or Jack will get him medication from some victims to regulate him

-His depressive episodes feel like death for him. He isolates himself, always in bed, oversleeping. He's so tired all the time, lethargic and moody, irritable. Toby doesn't want to talk to anyone, he tends to lose all hope and humour, everything seems so heavy and bleak, like every bad thing he's ever done and been through has finally caught up to him

-On really bad days, he'll struggle with suicidal thoughts, where Jack or Brian will talk him down, and Clockwork will just sit quietly by him so he knows he's not alone, because even if it feels like the world is ending, it never really is

-Toby also deals with issues associated with Antisocial Personality Disorder, though he was never officially diagnosed because proxies don't really have psychiatrists

-Toby struggles a LOT with empathy, and is generally an insensitive prick who has a very hard time genuinely caring about other peoples lives or problems. To him, its all about self preservation, every man for himself, and if he's capable of handling his own issues then he shouldn't be expected to coddle "weak people who cant handle their own". This stems heavily from beliefs he learned from his father, and certain mindsets he utilizes to help him get by in his life as a proxy

-He also greatly struggles with appropriate emotional responses, and morality. He doesn't understand why most things are deemed "right" or "wrong", and thinks people are dramatic or care too much for having strong morals on things. Toby says what he wants without and regard for societal norms or rules, things he wasn't really taught anyways

-Toby is also in a constant battle for freedom. At a young age he was made to feel small and powerless, which caused him to constantly feel like he's fighting for power and control in his life. He tends to fulfill these needs by putting others down, or starting fights with people because he always needs to defend himself

-This also makes him a very practical and loyal friend towards the people he's fond of. He's very much an "acts of service" guy because he values his freedom so much, that he's willing to spend his time and effort and give up a little bit of freedom to the people he likes. He's a ride or die friend, and he always encourages people to stand up for themselves and do better for themselves

LAUNDRY AND TAXES

-Laundry and Taxes is an ongoing fanfiction Im writing about what life for the Creepypastas (mostly Toby and Clockwork) would look if they were suddenly transported to a world where nothing bad happened. No murder, no Slenderman.

-It's very personal to me and is about getting better and healing from trauma and mental health issues, and forgiveness, and reconciliation

-I think during mental health awareness its important to bring awareness to the facts and struggles someone might have, but also the recovery. Which is what Im gonna get into here

-The story follows Toby, who constantly struggles with his pride and "me vs the world" mindset

-He learns how to ask for help, how to put his pride aside and seek out support from the people around him. He learns how to open up and trust that people will be kind to him, and that the world isn't as bad as it seems

-His recovery is, as all good things are, insanely difficult and horrible and painful and messy, but theres a lot of focus on how worth it everything is, and how all of that gritted teeth effort, because Toby has no other choice, ends up amounting to something

-He has to face the mistakes he's made, the hurt he's caused, the guilt he pushes down. He has to learn how to be kinder to himself and others. Toby grew up in a world where he believed that it was written from the start for him to be a "bad person", and then he was forced to face the fact that he was the one doing the writing, and he has the ability to write something new for himself

-He also has to face the fact that healing isnt linear, and that the world isn't always a safe, happy place, and Toby has to learn how to handle these things in ways he never did before. Because recovery is all about learning

-The same goes for Natalie, who struggles with her past trauma, and everything she's done, and what has taken from her at a young age

-She learns how to forgive herself, and how to make peace with her anger, and how to be kinder to herself and others as well

-Natalie goes through a lot of the same realizations Toby does, and even though she spent her whole life alone and pushing people away, slowly, she starts to open up to people too and she learns how to challenge her thoughts and distrust. It's a long, difficult journey with her facing her family and her trauma and her guilt and anger, but Natalie learns that there's an entire life of peace and quietness outside of her head, outside of the past

-She learns it's okay to lean on others a bit, and that they wont hurt her, and that it's okay to feel the things she does. Natalie faces her own grief, and how suffocating it is, because its the only way she can face love too

-It takes her longer to get on track to healing because she's spent her entire life running from her problems that she never really knew how to face it, or what to do when it catches up to her. But she does get on track, and she does face her past, and that little girl in her head who's scared all the time, and how angry she is, and how loud everything is, and she becomes able to hold that little girl in her arms and sit with her for a moment

-And then, Natalie learns how to make peace with the world, and for once, she has a weird sort of hope for the future

[angelinterviews]

IDC WHO YOU VOTED FOR. READ THIS.

With the elections in America, I've seen countless kids expressing that they're thinking about ending it. They're afraid, frightened of what may come of their future - they think this is the only way out. I'm not American, but I'm a girl above all, and I have been in their situation. When I was nine, I started having suicidal thoughts. When I was eleven, I got my first therapist. At twelve, I was admitted to my first mental hospital. Many years later, this suicidal part of me has faded away because of all the medications I take nowadays. Instead, I now suffer from the side-effects I caused. I used to automutilate - one day, a cut got infected. I now suffer from an autoimmune disease called graves' disease. I have severe tremors, extremely weak muscles, heart palpitations, and suffer from nausea daily. I've had every eating disorder there is. Because of this, I developed Diabetes type 2. Adding onto the fatigue symptoms of both of these diseases, I also have chronic fatigue. I am miserable, barely mobile, and cry when I have to do the smallest things. I have no immune system - I'm sick every other day, and no medicines seem to help anymore. My lifelong dream was to become a mother - because of my eating disorders, I am unable to have children of my own. I'm extremely cold 24/7 and currently can't walk because of my sore muscles. I haven't done a thing, yet I'm in so much pain. These children should be protected. They shouldn't fucking end their lives or live with depression for years because of one fucking criminal. My heart aches, I wish I could start a campaign to show these kids we're here. It does get better. Just don't allow it to get worse while you try. I'm not even eligible to drive a car yet, but I'm already in excruciating pain that I have to live with until the end of my days. Teach your kids about healthy alternatives and please, for the love of God, think of your family. Your siblings could be planning something, your fucking nieces and nephews could be planning something. Check up with the fucking kids, don't let anybody fall down the same rabbithole I did.

[momma-pixel]

I Must Speak But Don't Have The Words

[TW: Suicide] When: 1988 Where: Playground, Kindergarten Situation: Little Me strongly and firmly believes that if I antagonize the girls and make them chase me then when I get caught they'll turn me into a girl like them as punishment. Apparently boys will be boys.

When: 1989-1994 Where: My bed, every night / Home Situation #1: I prayed to god every night to let me wake up as a girl. Situation #2: Caught wearing my sister's panties a few times, said it was because I couldn't find my own underwear. Situation #3: Constantly asked to help with yard work, would prefer to help in the house. Told that's women's work, what are you a girl, stop being lazy.

When: 1993-1995 Where: Home / Hospital Situation: General moodiness and angst, aches and pains. Breasts and hips are forming. Why parents? You're fat (I wasn't). Get confused for a girl out in public, parents force me to cut my hair and go on a strict diet. Doctor says I only have one testicle but also wants to run chromosome and hormone tests. Parents balk at cost. Surgery to find a missing testicle. I prayed to god, for the last time, to have the doctors turn me into a girl. They find a testicle slightly smaller than a marble, it's atrophied.

When: 1996 - 2000 Where: High School / Home Situation #1: Fell in with the punk and goth crowd. Had friends. Learned about the world at large thanks to them (and this new thing called the internet!). Discovered I was Bisexual. Learned the term 'transsexual'. Boom, head blown. Female bestie opens her arms, heart, and closet doors to me. Wearing black lipstick, black nail polish, eyeliner. Parents hate me. Wanted my ears pierced, dad said it was for girls and fags. In an argument about something dumb my mom calls me a cocksucker - I quipped that at least I was getting dick, flipped my hair, and walked away...we didn't speak to each other for a month. Situation #2: Attempted suicide twice. Both attempts failed right before they would have succeeded thanks to some spectacular reverse-final destination shit. Parents blamed my friends, my books, and anything else they could. Boyfriend jokes it's because god is scared of me after ignoring my prayers for so long and needs time to come up with an alibi.

When: 2001 - 2005 Where: Therapist's Office Situation #1: Asperger Syndrome (to be changed much later to Autism), Depression, Transsexualism. Do this thing called a Real Life test. Standards too rigid, too high, failed test. Situation #2: Final suicide attempt. Lots of counseling, meds, and restrictions.

When: 2010 - Present Where: New State of Being/Mind/Residence Situation: Grabbed life by the gooch and made it my bitch. Found new therapist, learned about myself more, began fixing myself, started a proper transition.

I never knew the words needed to express my mental anguish and emotional turmoil. They were concepts in my mind colored with prismatic abstract thoughts. My world was a tiny box with the only things allowed in governed by my parents. I wanted so badly to say to someone, anyone, that I was in pain and needed help but didn't know how. Even today I still have trouble putting words to thoughts - as an example, this post alone has already taken an hour to write.

For any of you out there struggling to talk about your changes, your transitions, your mental state of you, take this advice - there are words out there for you! Take your time to craft them as purposely and gently as possible. Some people will kick up at them and try to break them, but they are your words and you made them. They can't be broken, they can't be sullied or tainted. Those words were crafted by hand with love (for yourself) and perseverance (for a better tomorrow) by the best craftsmen in the world: You.

[mj-iza-writer]

Trigger Warning mentions of mental breakdowns that led to rash decisions. Possible suicide ideation. Reader beware.

"Oh, hello Whumpee, you're early", Caretaker looked up from some paperwork, "please come in."

"Is-is that okay Caretaker? I can come back", Whumpee looked down as they leaned on the doorframe.

"No, no, did your nurse or guard accompany you?", Caretaker looked around for them, "we can get started early."

"N-no sir", Whumpee sobbed and wiped their face with their sleeve.

"Hey, hey its okay. Here, come sit down, I can easily text them and let them know you're with me. You just can't leave them though, they're their for your safety", Caretaker quickly stood and walked over to Whumpee.

"Okay there, the text was received", Caretaker looked up at Whumpee, who now sat on the couch.

The phone vibrated, "they said you made them worry when you went missing, but they're glad you went to me. You seemed off after lunch."

Caretaker looked up again at Whumpee, "are you okay? Did something happen around lunch time that affected you?"

Whumpee looked down and nodded.

"Okay", Caretaker stood and pulled a chair closer to Whumpee, "let's start there."

"I feel like an abandoned building Caretaker", Whumpee looked up with new tears started to fall.

"Oh, can you elaborate for me", Caretaker started to take notes.

"During lunch, Nurse Hannah and George started to talk about the abandoned wing of the hospital being abandoned for so long, and it's now unusable. They said the hospital attempted to make use of it for so long, but nothing worked out. They had plans to tear it down and do something else with it", Whumpee was full on crying now.

"Yes the wing is part of the old hospital, and unfortunately has fallen into disrepair", Caretaker looked up from his notes, "how do you mean that you feel like an abandoned building though? Can you explain yourself, I'm interested in what your thought process is."

Whumpee squeezed their eyes tight hoping to squeeze out their tears.

"I once was a part of society, I was employed, I was useful", Whumpee almost seemed to plead as they spoke, "now I have to have a guard watch me, and have almost daily meetings with you so I don't... you know", Whumpee was getting to the point of frustration. "I feel like I'm now sitting empty, no longer of use, more than likely forgotten by those that knew me. There are a few people who still take care of it, that abandoned building, but they may grow tired of it, and come to the decision that it's of no use, it's too broken, and at one point they might walk away too. I'll be there abandoned, until I'm torn down or I fall apart myself. I feel like an abandoned building Caretaker."

Whumpee looked up to see Caretaker's expression. They had a feeling they had said too much, and George would have to watch them like a hawk... again.

"Caretaker I...", Whumpee looked down and wiped their eyes, "I'm sorry to have dumped that out on you, um, can we forget I said half of that at least... please."

"No", Caretaker continued to write, "give me one second while I finish writing, do you need some water? I just stalked the fridge."

Whumpee nodded and went to the fridge, "do you want one?"

"No thankyou, I appreciate that", Caretaker looked up, "do you feel better getting that off your chest?"

"Um a little, I'll see if I feel even better after I know what you'll do to me after this meeting", Whumpee sat back down.

"What do you mean?", Caretaker eyed them.

"George is probably going to have to watch me closer, right?", Whumpee questioned before taking a drink.

"Eh, not really. You can't leave your room like you did today though. That's the only thing", Caretaker looked back at the notes, "let's wait to talk about this until tomorrow, we can talk about some other things today, maybe some good things that happened, maybe that will help you feel better. I want to study these notes so I know what I can do to help you better with these feelings."

Whumpee nodded.

They talked for a while, and then Whumpee yawned.

"How about I get you back to your room? You can take a nap. You can easily tucker yourself out when you cry like that", Caretaker stood.

Whumpee nodded, "you're not mad at me, right?"

"No, of course not. I'm proud of you actually. You knew you didn't feel okay, and you seeked help. Then you opened up about your feelings. I only wish I could tell you the fix-all right now, but I've never heard it put this way before. I hope it's okay that we come back to it tomorrow."

Whumpee smiled tiredly, "yes Caretaker thats fine."

They started down the hall.

"The only thing is you leaving without George or Nurse Hannah. Next time, just let them know you need me or your doctor, and they will take you to us, no questions asked", Caretaker smiled.

"Yes sir, I'm sorry", Whumpee looked down the hall and saw George at the nurses station talking to Nurse Hannah.

Caretaker and Whumpee stopped at the station.

"There's our runaway", George announced, "please don't do that again, I almost ran the entire hospital looking for you."

"Go easy on them. They were having a hard time, and needed to talk to me. I've already told them", Caretaker sighed, "they're a bit tired, so they may take a nap."

"Was it something we said?", Nurse Hannah looked at Whumpee concerned.

"I'll tell you about what happened once Whumpee is comfortable", Caretaker looked at Whumpee, "they had an emotional day, so they are tired now."

Nurse Hannah came around the counter and followed Whumpee into their room, and started to help them into bed.

George watched from the doorway.

"Are you both mad at me?", Whumpee questioned as Hannah covered them up.

"No, we were concerned though", Nurse Hannah booped Whumpee's nose, "we are glad you made it back to your room."

George agreed.

Caretaker came back a bit later and peaked in at Whumpee.

George and Hannah were sitting inside the room, whispering to not wake up Whumpee, who was fast asleep.

"Pssst", Caretaker whispered, and motioned to them.

Caretaker had a nurse step in to watch Whumpee while he talked to George and Hannah.

"So your conversation about the abandoned hospital wing brought out some hard thoughts for Whumpee", Caretaker handed them the notes they had taken while talking to Whumpee, "though I appreciate that Whumpee was able to express this to me, and it will help them in the end, please I beg of you, we need to be careful with our conversations around Whumpee and other patients even."

They both read the notes.

"Oh poor Whumpee", Hannah sighed sadly.

"I didn't realize", George sighed, "I noticed they were different after lunch. Are they okay? Were you able to help them on this?"

"I told them I'd look into this tonight and bring them in tomorrow to talk about this", Caretaker reached for the notes, "I've never heard it put this way before, and I find it very interesting."

"It's too bad you can't take them into the abandoned wing or even find a way for that wing to be repurposed", Hannah thought out loud.

"That may be an idea, what is supposed to be there now?", Caretaker looked at George.

"I think they talked about a garden or something like that", George pulled out a paper and gave it to Caretaker, "yes this was the announcement."

Caretaker looked it over, "I wonder if I can get Whumpee in there, if it's safe enough."

"I can get you in. The guards still go down there for storage and breaks, we hide from staff down there", George chuckled.

"That explains where you guards disappear to", Caretaker sighed.

The next day George led Caretaker and Whumpee to the abandoned wing.

"Whumpee this is the abandoned wing you heard Nurse Hannah and I talk about. Pretty soon, this will be removed, and they'll have a garden built", George led them down the hall, "I read some of what you told Caretaker, just so I know what was going on. I'm sorry we made you upset. Just know though, although this area will be removed because of safety, the hospital has plans to make a new place for us to enjoy. A new garden will be put up right here."

"Really?", Whumpee looked down the halls, "it's sad in here."

"Yes Whumpee, and when it's up we can go out and explore it", Caretaker smiled, "unfortunately sometimes things lose their service. This wing was once used to house many people and help them. Unfortunately, when the hospital expanded, this wing became older and, in turn not usable anymore. The hospital is going to give it a new life so it can help people again in a new way."

Whumpee listened.

"Just like for you, you may not be able to go back to how your life once was, but this hospital is going to give you resources to help you. Whether you get to leave the hospital, or you live here for a while or for the rest of your life. Who knows. With those resources you might be able to do some great things you wouldn't have been able to do before your breakdown. Is this making sense?"

"Yes Caretaker", Whumpee wiped a tear and smiled, "thankyou."

"You're welcome", Caretaker smiled then looked at George, "thanks for bringing us down here, I think it helped me know what to say."

"I'm glad", George grinned, "Whumpee just know I'm on your side, as is Nurse Hannah, we won't abandon you. We are happy to take care of you and our other patients."

Whumpee nodded, and wiped another tear, "thankyou", they sobbed.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

Hey MJ here, um this one is one of those stories I wanted to cry while writing because Whumpee is me. I have abandonment issues, and these are real thoughts.

I was once talking to someone, about abandoned buildings. I love abandoned things so much. I can't even explain it. I was talking to someone once though, and they knew I had these issues. Then they asked me, "do you like abandoned things, because you see yourself in them?" To say I was dumbfounded is an understatement.

So I just wanted to be real with you. I am okay mentally just saw and abandoned building being tore down today and it triggered these memories and a story. So I hope you enjoyed, and if you have these issues to, they are hard, but we will make it through. You are loved, I promise. Signed, MJ

[briar--rising]

Rosh Hashanah is next week. It's always been my favorite holiday, and every year I prepare for it and look forward to it. But this year I've been dreading it, and until this past week I couldn't figure out why.

I haven't been to synagogue much in the past year. I've gone a handful of times, but much less than any other year since graduating college. And I thought of going, my therapist tried to encourage me to go because she knows it often makes me feel better, but there was just this inner resistance that I couldn't figure out and wasn't ready to look at closely enough to decipher anyway. And then as the High Holy Days got closer and closer I started to notice that I was really dreading them, which is not how I usually feel. And so I brought it up in therapy on Tuesday, and came to some really important realizations.

I've been doing a lot of very serious grief work and trauma work this fall. My most serious trauma anniversaries are almost all in the fall, and it's a season of great grief and usually highly elevated symptoms for me. My first serious psychotic break was in the fall, four of my five hospitalizations have been in the fall, etc. Until this year I spent every autumn of the past decade pretty severely psychotic. I could not face the trauma and grief that this time of year brings up for me, I could not process those feelings and memories without losing my mind in defense so that I wouldn't have to truly experience them. I've always known this, and for a few years have tried very hard to truly experience my grief and not retreat into psychosis, but I never managed it until this year.

This autumn has been different. I've still struggled with psychosis much more than in the summer, I still have to fight it most days. But I'm winning most of those fights. And I'm grieving. I'm mourning, I'm crying, I'm sitting with my feelings for as long as I can bear and then distracting myself from them when they get too much instead of retreating into symptoms most of the time. I'm genuinely experiencing the thoughts and feelings I need to be experiencing. I'm reading about death, about grief, about loss, I'm talking about these things in therapy. It's often incredibly painful, though sometimes it is simply a peaceful kind of sorrow. I'm getting in touch with a lot of the feelings I've found so difficult to face from some of the hardest times of my life, and I'm experiencing some of them again.

And some of those feelings that I was really quite blindsided by and that I've been largely repressing for 15 years are incredibly complicated feelings about G-d. When I was 11 years old I was just like any other religious and traumatized kid: I prayed to G-d to fix it. I did that thing kids do, I tried to make bargains with Him. "Dear G-d, if I clean my room will You save my mommy? If I'm perfect, will You fix my family?" You know. Things like that.

I was desperate for anything, anyone to save me. I talk sometimes about the particular traumas of that year, about my brother's birth, about my mother's hospitalizations, about her suicide attempt. But I have no words to express the year as a whole, except to say that terrible thing after terrible thing after terrible thing happened, and throughout all of it I was neglected and left at sea. My mom was sick, my dad was trying to keep his head above water, no one was there for me. So I tried to turn to G-d. And when He wasn't there for me either, I felt incredibly abandoned and betrayed, both by Him but also because I was taking my feelings about my family neglecting me during severe trauma and putting them onto Him. It's hard for me to express the levels of hurt and rage I felt at G-d during that time period.

And then my memory cuts out. I remember approximately nothing from shortly after my twelfth birthday (in June) until November over a year later. I have a handful of memories of specific events that took place at school or at camp, but absolutely zero memories of my internal feelings or anything that ever took place at home during seventh grade. It's just. Gone. Always has been, probably always will be.

The next significant things I remember in terms of my relationship to G-d and my religion are all about Hebrew High School, which I loved (I got to start it early bc I was being bullied in normal Hebrew School), and preparing for my Bat Mitzvah, which I also loved. My memory goes from intense feelings of betrayal and abandonment and agony to instantaneously a relatively low conflict, positive relationship with G-d and Judaism (with Jewish-appropriate amounts of questioning of course and moments of anger, but no true rage and despair like I once felt). And I stayed in that space of Judaism-as-comfort-with-minimal-internal-conflict for the next 10+ years. I have no idea how that transition happened, but it certainly didn't occur because I slowly and naturally dealt with all of my complicated feelings and embraced religion after processing.

And then this year, well. I guess the processing came due. I'd like to be very very clear that being Jewish always has been and always will be incredibly important to me, and nothing about any of this changes that. I am struggling, though. I'm re-experiencing a lot of those childhood feelings of betrayal and abandonment and confusion and rage. And not being ready to face those feelings is why I've been subconsciously avoiding synagogue for the past year, and is why I've been dreading the holidays. At least now I'm aware of what's happening, so that's a step in the right direction. And in the long term this is a good and important step not only in my trauma recovery but in my relationship with Judaism and with G-d; I can't have as deep of a relationship as I want without this kind of struggle. To quote my therapist, "your relationship with Judaism is too important to you to be easy." Thankfully in Judaism struggling like this is not only allowed but expected. But it is a struggle, right now. A painful one.

I leave you all with a song I've been listening to on repeat that is helping me confront and think about a lot of these feelings:

[rose-of-the-grave]

What Do You Remember?

Pairing: Lily x James

Hey, everybody! This is part 4 of All A Bad Dream, based off of this question. I hope you like it! As always I'm the author (please don't repost)

Masterlist. Series Masterlist Read on Ao3

Warnings: mention of suicide, trauma from a coma, hurt/comfort, Harry is loved, descriptions of canon events

Word Count: 1365

Description: When Harry's nightmares refuse to leave his loved ones become concerned so they ask him about what he experienced during his coma dream.

Taglist: @sylveryfire, @waitingformysandman

As the weeks went by, Harry’s nightmares persisted. Enough so that it was cause for alarm for his parents. It didn’t matter what they did, he would always wake up in the middle of the night leading him to be exhausted for the rest of the day. Eventually, Lily and James, as well as Sirius who had been concerned after all of the times he had stopped by to see Harry and he had been too tired to talk for more than ten minutes, decided to have a talk with Harry to see if maybe he needed to see a doctor or something.

“Hey Harry?” Lily asked. “Can you come out here please?”

Hesitantly Harry walked out into the living room where both of his parents and Sirius were sitting, all of them had tired and worried expressions. It was something he had noticed in his time getting to know them again. In his coma dream Lily and James had seemed so young because he had only seen pictures of them. Both of them had died at twenty so they had seemed so young compared to everybody else who was still alive and yet the same age. Sirius, however, he had to admit looked better. His years in Azkaban had taken a toll and yet here, standing in front of him, he looked younger. It was still so odd to see all three of them alive and well.

“Is everything alright?”

Lily smiled at him, as if to reassure him but all he could see was how tired she looked, how worried. The slight lines on her face and the sadness in her green eyes. He wished he could take it all away. Undo the coma and relive his teenage years with his parents at his side. But he couldn’t. He hated to think about how much he had put them through.

“We’re worried about you, Harry.” James sai, leaning forward a bit. There were a few streaks of gray in his hair, betraying his age. Premature, he thought. His dad was only thirty-eight. “You haven’t been getting good sleep ever since you came back from the hospital.”

“Is there something we can do for you, sweetie?” He couldn’t bear to look at his mother’s concerned face.

“I just…” He paused. “I just can’t stop remembering what happened. You were dead! And Sirius…” He turned to look at his godfather. “I watched you die right in front of me.”

Sirius recoiled as if he had been struck. The sounds of all of their gasps of surprise felt like arrows, piercing his heart.

“I almost died, several times.” Harry admitted.

Lily stood up and walked over to him, trying to wrap her arms around him to provide some form of comfort but he pulled away. “Oh, Harry.”

“And the worst part of it was, I survived. Every single time only to need to die in the end.” The words echoing in his head, ‘neither can live while the other survives.’

“How… How did you die?” He looked up at his father’s face, the worry plain to see in every line and every crease. He didn’t want to answer. In the weeks since he woke up he had only told them snippets of what he went through. Not once had he mentioned almost dying or them being dead.

“I sacrificed myself so that everyone else could live. If I hadn’t he would have killed everyone.”

Sirius stood up at his words, beginning to pace back and forth.

He knew what they were wondering. In a world where there was no magic he had quickly realized just how different things were. He knew that some of them were worried about him trying to end his life. It didn’t show through much but he could tell whenever he had mentioned the little things like how wonderful his life had been there compared to here because to him the magic had been amazing. He would have given it all up in a heartbeat for them all to be alive but it was still a magical and wonderful world.

Most of all, he remembered when they had asked about how his mind had filled in the blanks or his childhood. His mother’s reaction to hearing how her fictional sister and brother-in-law had treated him had been heartwrenching. In that moment he truly believed that if the Dursleys were real she would have been very angry.

“I saw you all.” At their looks of confusion he clarified, “Before I died. You gave me the strength to go through with it. Knowing that I would finally be able to be with you again. Sometimes I think that this is the afterlife, that it isn’t real and we’re all dead.”

Lily gave him yet another sad look, her heart physically hurting from the pain her son had to endure. James stood up and walked to her, hugging her from behind. He reached out a hand to Harry and Sirius who both joined in. Tears rolled freely down their cheeks as the information sank in.

Later, while eating dinner, Sirius asked in a low, muted voice, “How did we, how did I die?”

Harry looked over at him and considered how to answer that. He still hadn’t filled them in on all of the details of his dream.

Hesitantly he began, “Well, Mom and Dad died when I was a baby. They were killed by a really bad man who also tried to take my life but because of Mom’s love, he couldn’t and instead died himself.” At his confused face he said, “Magic is a very weird, sort of sentient thing in a way. Her love was considered the most powerful magic. Anyway, they died and I lived with my fictional aunt and uncle until I got a letter for Hogwarts. You already know how you were in wizard prison, which is why you couldn’t raise me but when I was fifteen, two years after we finally met there was this battle and your cousin killed you.”

The way he said it, so matter of factly, was what truly amazed them all. It was so odd to see that not only had he thought he lived for seventeen whole years in a world where there was magic and things like this got to be commonplace.

“I only knew you for two years and then I lost you. I lost all of you.” He started to choke up a bit, “That’s why I have trouble sleeping. I keep imagining that this is the dream and that one day I will wake up and you’ll all be gone.”

Sirius stood up and walked over to him, wrapping his arms around him. “You’re not going to lose me. Alright, kid?” He ruffled Harry’s hair before sitting back down.

His parents echoed that same sentiment. It would take time for him to fully stop his brain from making him question what was real and what was not.

“Maybe you should write all of this down.” His mother suggested. “I mean, I’m no therapist but maybe if you write it all down as it happened you can use that to try and remind yourself that that is all a dream. It might help you find the distinction between your coma and what actually did happen.”

“Maybe. There’s a lot to unpack but that might help.”

“Or at the very least we should start taking pictures. You can look at them as proof of it happening. I have all of your old drawings and things, we kept every single one. There’s also plenty of photos from when you were a kid. Maybe those might help. We can look after dinner.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled at him with watery eyes that were a bit puffy from all of the crying that they had been doing. “Anything for you to start feeling better.”

He gave her a grateful smile. There were a lot of times when his mind would play tricks on him but at moments like these when he could feel just how much he was loved by all of his family he just knew, deep down, that this was real.

[thequietkid-moonie]

Meeting someone on the rooftop of the hospital

[ ONE SHOT ] [ Sunny ] [ Omori ]

⚠️ This contain mayor spoilers from Omori

⚠️ Mention of suicide attempt

It's totally not me thinking about unalive myself 😶

I think that all the endings of the game are pretty interesting and really acurate for what happen!! The creator really made a good job!!

I really got reflexive, maybe this is a little vent but don't matter, I hope you enjoy it! 😙

No matter how much time it pass the guilt Sunny feel doesn't go away, in fact it had just become more dificult to bear, he had get enough and just let himself fall into de despair

Climbing the stairs towards the rooftop without thinking in anything else aside from putting an end to all of this, is the only thing he wants right now, he just can't continue fighting

His body was practically moving alone when he reach the top of the stairs and open the door of the rooftop, but he was stoped by something he never expected to see, there were someone else, someone dressed in a hospital gown similar to his, someone who was on the edge but just looking at the view

He was really shocked, Sunny had been trapped in his own world for so long that he had just forgot about the rest of the world, he never expected, or even thought that he could meet someone in a similar situation (aside from Basil)

When you had noticed him you just had greet him with a smile, inviting over to look at the view of the city with you, he isn't unfamiliar to kindness but he never expected to be accepted in this state, and again, without thinking much, his body slowly approaches to you. You two spend a while just watching to nothing in particular without saying anything, not a single word, Sunny can't help but wonder what you were doing there (even when thinks he knows the answer)

When you ask him if he was planning to do it too he was taken aback, you seem in peace righ now so why will you want to jump? and how do you know that he was planning on doing it? he isn't the type to express his problems and still you had read him like an open book

This was one of the only times his facial expression showed how surprised he was, and you were quickly to reasure him, although not knowing exactly what to say, maybe you say that you just suspected that that was the reason that bring him here or you reveal that that was your reason for being there

Sunny was so taken aback that he didn't know what else to do or say, so he just stay there by your side while you talk. You start saying that life isn't easy, that you feel like it would be better if you weren't there, just put an end to everything probably would be better, but for some reason you always find a reason to not do it, maybe you were just too coward or maybe there were really reasons to continue fighting

Why is a question you don't manage to answer yet, and you want to make sure you won't regret it on the middle of the way, when it were too late. Maybe that were the reason you were there, being so close to what you want but still with the option to decline it gives you peace

Everyone says that things will get better but is really getting better? how will you know if things are getting better? If you ask him he won't be able to answer to that either, he doesn't even had pay attention to rest of the world, but what you said make him remember how Mary had teach him to calm down and focus when he started to be afraid and how she used to tell him that everything will be fine, maybe things don't get better but for some reason that always comforted him

Unlike at what it was expected Sunny was paying a lot of attention, but what you were saying was something he had really never considered, again it was because he was trapped in his own world

None of you really noticed how much attention he was paying to you, but when you do you were quickly to apologize for venting to him, you were sorry for bothering him but is just that the moment felt perfect to share this, and you admitted that you didn't remember when was the last time you had the opportunity to talk to someone with such sincerity, heck you don't remember if there was even an oportunity to do so

You were right, when it was the last time he had talk about this?, the only people he dare to talk with about this kind stuff was his sister Mary, but he killed her, and his best friend Basil, but he turned away from him when he insolate himself, not even to himself since he had been trying to avoid all of those feelings, the guilt was starting to get unbearable but when was the last time he tried to face it or talk about it?

You two spend some time just watching the view from the rooftop, mostly in silence, you just say some coments from time to time, but that was enough to make him wonder if the things were really like he think of them, he had been all this time fearing that his friends will blame him and hate him for Mary's death, but if a stranger that doesn't even know his name accept him at his lowest maybe things won't go as bad as he thinks

At some point you two say goodbye and wish luck in your lifes for both before going back inside of the hospital, and even when you had go away your words get stuck on Sunny's mind, he had just realice that he isn't alone, in this world are people that understand how he feels even when the situation isn't the same or even when you don't express it directly

Maybe this wasn't the moment to jump, maybe this wasn't even a good option, Sunny doesn't have the answer to everything and he still fears the future and what will bring him, but right now he think that maybe it won't be that bad to give a try and continue fighting

He knows that the chances are minimal but he can't help but wonder if he will be able to see you again, he should thank you for give him motivation to continue at least one more day

[fyodoro]

Hiii I’ve seen you writing younger sibling stuff and it was amazing!

So I thought about requesting the Tenmas with younger sibling!reader that has really low energy and doesn’t show much emotions, hence the complete opposite of Tenmas.

Sorry if I made this complicated and thank you for your writing ❤️

-> 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬

The Tenmas are one of the kindest most upbeat family anyone could find. Not fitting into this expectation came with plenty of cons…

I took this request that could have been the sweetest thing ever and made it as depressing as I could in the moment.

TWs) suicide implications at the end (ending is up for interpretation), isolation, self sabotage, strained family ties

Platonic!Tsukasa Tenma & Saki Tenma

Part 2 here

You couldn’t tell anyone or even yourself why you were always so exhausted, you simply didn’t know. Those energetic genes didn’t bless you like they did Saki and Tsukasa. It made you feel slightly outcasted, but only slightly.

Just a bit, and only a bit.

If you looked at a family photo of the Tenmas, you’d be the last person anyone would notice. Your expression blank and solemnly staring into the camera lenses, it wasn’t creepy per day, but rather unpleasant. Tsukasa and Saki’s bright, shining smiles only put you in the shadows of that picture.

But it’s okay, you still have your siblings by your side.

Until they aren’t.

Tsukasa and you were always so close as children, spending much time together due to Saki’s hospitalization and parents that were never home, you guys always had each other’s backs.

Until you didn’t.

Tsukasa’s dream of becoming a star is one you always silently supported, not knowing how to express it the right way. This lead to several misunderstandings, that you didn’t care at all about his aspirations. Although brought up like a joke, your reaction wasn’t helping your case. You didn’t say a word or give any reassurance, all you did was look away.

“(Name), do you really think my dream is dumb?”

Hurt was laced in Tsukasa’s voice, his face expressing doubt and betrayal. But yours? Nothing.

“I don’t think it’s dumb.”

“Just forget it (Name), I’m leaving now. See you later.”

You weren’t sure what you did wrong, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to find out. You didn’t have the nerve to ask.

That’s when you and Tsukasa grew distant.

You couldn’t wait for Saki to be discharged, for good this time. You’re dear sister whom you’ve barley seen, you can finally get to know her better.

You will get to know her better, right?

When she finally returned home, you smiled. A real smile. Saki was overjoyed to be home with her siblings again, ready to spend more time with the two of you. But it didn’t go as she hoped, not at all.

You were too drained to keep up with Saki’s energy, only being able to watch and listen. All you gave her were nods and “oh wow”’s. In your mind, this was letting her know you were still listening. But in Saki’s, it made her feel ignored by you. She thought she was only bothering you, and quietly excused herself.

“Trouble with (Name)?”

“Tsukasa! Um, I wouldn’t say trouble.. just awkwardness. You know them, they don’t do much.”

“Tell me about it…”

If your brother and sister we’re gonna talk about you, they could at least not talk in front of your door where you can clearly hear them. Is that what they think? You don’t do much? You make everything awkward?

They didn’t get it, they never could understand. They can connect with anyone, make anyone smile. It’s in their blood. But why isn’t it in yours?

Maybe it’s better if you distance yourself from the family. If you do make everything worse like they say, then it’s for the better.

It’s for the better.

They won’t notice.

That brings you to the present state your in. Alone at the train station. You didn’t have anywhere to be, or anywhere to go. You were just there in the night alone watching the city lights glow.

It was ironic, the view perfectly fit you. A dark abounded looking station across a bright colorful city. You could see it perfectly, but could never reach it while the lights are still colorful.

No one noticed you leave the house, so you doubt anyone will notice if you enter the house.

Maybe it wasn’t for the better.

[forbidden-salt]

Breaking the Silence; My Mental Health Story for Worldwide Suicide Prevention Day

By ForbiddenSalt

9/10/2024

Trigger Warning: This blog post discusses suicidal ideation, depression, and mental health struggles. If you are in a vulnerable state, please read with caution, and know that support is available through resources like 988, friends, and loved ones.

Resources and helpful tools for self and loved ones provided below the fold.

My Story:

Suicide Awareness Day holds a deeply personal meaning for me. For years, I struggled silently with suicidal thoughts, depression, and anxiety, unsure of how to ask for help or whether I deserved it. Sharing my story now is not just about raising awareness, but about offering hope to anyone who feels the same weight I once carried.

At the age of 13, I began to experience something many people are hesitant to talk about—suicidal ideation. But it wasn’t until I was in college that I truly realized how dangerous those thoughts had become.

I remember one day when I was walking across campus from class to my dorm, lost in thought, and accidentally stepped off the curb without looking. A car was coming toward me. Instinctively, I jumped back, avoiding an accident. But what happened next startled me more than the near-miss. As I stood on the sidewalk, tears welled up, not because I was relieved, not because I was scared—I was upset that my instincts had saved me. I realized I wasn’t crying because I had narrowly avoided getting hit by a car; I was crying because, in that moment, I wanted to be hit. It would have been an "accident"—a way out without me having to act intentionally.

It dawned on me that this was something much more serious than I had admitted to myself.

This wasn’t the first time I had experienced suicidal thoughts, but it was one of the most shocking moments. I knew I needed help. I sought out a counselor at the campus health center and, for a time, tried therapy. When I went home for a break, I spoke to my doctor, and she prescribed me an SSRI. I confided in my family and was met with mixed reactions—some were supportive, while others expressed concerns about the medication, urging me to stop taking it as quickly as possible. This set up an internal battle for me; I began starting and stopping my medication over the next few months, caught between fear and shame; and eventually quit all together.

Suicidal ideation lingered in the back of my mind for years. I wished for a pause button, a way to make the world stop so I could catch my breath and somehow not fall behind. I dreamed of getting hurt or sick enough to be hospitalized, just so I could take a break from life’s demands. But I never let myself act on those thoughts.

It wasn’t until my mid-20s that things got so bad I returned to therapy. This time, it was different. My new therapist helped me understand that I wasn’t “crazy”—I was carrying the weight of childhood trauma and years of struggling to survive. She diagnosed me with complex PTSD, and for the first time, I felt understood. Her support gave me the strength to make significant changes in my life, including moving to a new state.

There, I found another therapist who continued to guide me through the ups and downs. I started back on an SSRI and have stayed on it ever since. Through this process, I realized that what I had been dealing with wasn’t just emotional—it was also biological. My body wasn’t producing enough serotonin, and my chronic illnesses, were compounding these mental health struggles by denying my body the tools to make its own serotonin and through the weight of the symptoms. Especially for a while before there was any answer or treatment plan in sight.

I went through EMDR therapy, talk therapy, and put in the hard work to heal. I focused on my physical and mental health, fighting for answers and for my life. Slowly, I began to reclaim control. I started to recognize the warning signs of passive suicidal ideation and created an action plan for when those thoughts creep in. I don’t go to therapy as often now, but I still have touch-base appointments in case something changes.

Through this journey, I’ve learned so much about myself and the nature of mental illness. Depression, anxiety, and PTSD were not signs that I was lazy or difficult, though I was often labeled as such. They were symptoms of a much deeper issue. I wish people could see that depression isn’t a mindset or mood and suicidal thoughts are not selfish—they are the final, fatal symptom of a disease.

It took a long time for me to accept that what I went through wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t to blame for the trauma I endured or the way my brain and body responded to it. And if you’re reading this and find yourself in a dark place, I want you to know you are not alone. I know what it’s like to stand in the darkness for so long that it starts to feel like home. But I also know that it is possible to fight back, to heal, and to find hope again.

If you can’t fight for yourself right now, I encourage you to reach out to someone—anyone—who can sit with you in your pain. Let them help you find a therapist, a doctor, or simply help with daily tasks. It might not be the person you expect. For me, one if my company leaders had noticed my depression and helped me find a therapist. I had a best friend who sat with me over the phone while I sobbed broken hearted, encouraging me to seek help if I needed it. That going to the hospital if I needed it wasn’t shameful or weak but brave and admirable. It was my grandmother, who spoke to me daily, reminding me of my faith and offering love when I couldn’t love myself and felt those I loved most didn’t love me.

Faith also played a huge role in my healing. I’ve had my share of questions and anger, but my belief that God could handle my questions and my rage helped me through some of the darkest times. I questioned why my life was going the way it was, why I was feeling the way I did, if He knows everything before it happens, if he’s all powerful why didn’t he step in to change the course of my life away from this. My questions turned to anger and I had to keep reminding myself that God had shoulders big enough for my anger, my tears, my pain. That I could toss all of it at him and he’d still see me still, love me. I never doubted his existence, and honestly to this day I still don’t have all the answers but I’m sure one day I’ll understand and I’ve realized I was still loved even when I couldn’t see it.

My family eventually came around too. Even my dad, who I had thought didn’t believe me, recently admitted how scared he had been for me after he had kept his fears hidden for years since it had gotten bad. We were able to talk and he listened, shared his point of view, and made the effort to understand. He allowed me to assure him I was safe now, I was doing better, and it’s changed our relationship for the better. While I had found my way to stability without knowing if my family believed or supported me, learning my family did care enough to worry, cared enough to learn, and loved me enough to listen even if what I said was hard to hear meant the world to me.

If you’re struggling, know that there is help out there. Call 988 for support, reach out to friends, hug your dog or cat, cling to your faith—whatever gets you through the next moment. Each day is a step, and that’s enough. It doesn’t have to be a leap—it just has to be forward.

Resources for support below:

Here are some coping strategies:

1. Box Breathing: This simple technique can help reduce anxiety. Breathe in for four counts, hold for four, exhale for four, and pause for four. Repeat until your heart rate slows and you feel more grounded. You can do this while on a video call too just let your eyes glide along the edges of the screen while you hold and breathe.

2. Straw Breathing: Another great calming tool—take a deep breath in, and then slowly exhale like you’re blowing through a straw. It mimics the relaxing response of the parasympathetic nervous system and helps you focus.

3. Journaling: I started journaling, reminding myself it didn’t have to be perfect. It was just for me. I stopped feeling guilty if I skipped days or weeks and let the words flow when I needed them. If you struggle with journaling, try creating an anonymous blog where you can rant and vent without worrying about dates or continuity. I have a separate Tumblr just for this—a void I can yell into when I need to.

4. Bilateral Stimulation: Butterfly taps—crossing your arms and tapping on opposite shoulders—helped calm me during moments of stress. This was especially useful during EMDR therapy, which became one of my strongest tools.

5. Creating a Routine: I used to go to the gym to cope before my chronic illness made it harder, so I shifted to art as a form of expression. Creating anything—whether it’s a routine or a creative outlet—can make a difference.

6. Boundaries and Emotions: Learning boundaries and reconnecting with my emotions was vital. One book that really changed my perspective was Rage Becomes Her by Soraya Chemaly, which helped me embrace my anger as a valid emotion. Learn how to advocate for yourself and establish boundaries. This takes time, but it’s one of the most empowering things you can do for your mental health.

7. Prioritize Yourself: Make time for what you need—therapy, the gym, a bath, or a doctor’s appointment. And allow yourself to rest. Your mind and body will force you to stop if you keep ignoring the warning signs.

8. Taking Shortcuts: Too tired to make a proper meal? That’s okay. Eat food however it comes—deconstructed meals are all the rage anyway. I’ve had moments where lunch was just handfuls of cheese and lunch meat. The goal is to nourish yourself, and sometimes that means being kind to yourself about how you do it.

10. Create Safety Nets: If you're heading somewhere that could be triggering, plan for it. What’s your exit strategy? Can you bring a comfort item, like a fidget toy, a blanket, or a stuffed animal? Having a plan can give you a sense of control.

11. Redirecting Negative Thoughts: When I get caught in negative thoughts, I ask myself if these thoughts are helping me process emotions or if they're just hurting me. If I’m not ready to process them, I work on redirecting my focus to something more helpful.

13. Emotional Support Animals: If you can, get an emotional support animal. My mini schnauzer has helped me through so much, even though she doesn’t know it.

How can I help a loved one:

1. Listen First: Before jumping to solutions, take time to listen. Validate the person's feelings, and let them process before suggesting how to fix things. Most of the time, they already know the solution; they just need space to work through it.

2. Stop Shaming Mental Health: Be mindful of how you talk about mental health. I’ve overheard loved ones shaming people for being "selfish" or "foolish" for being depressed, anxious, suicidal and even those that did commit suicide not knowing how often it was on my mind. Those words made it even harder to speak up and ask for help.

3. Fear and Guilt Are Not Helpful Tools: Fear and guilt are not effective motivators when it comes to mental health. I once told someone close to me that I didn’t believe people who commit suicide go to hell. Just as someone who passes from cancer doesn’t go to hell for how they died, I believe the same for depression—it’s an illness. They responded that they hoped fear of hell would keep me from acting on those thoughts. I explained that, by the time someone is ready to act, they likely don’t care anymore. The weight of the pain is overwhelming, and fear or guilt won’t pull them back.

4. Recognize the Signs: Suicidal ideation, passive suicidal ideation, and suicidal plans are all dangerous and need treatment and support. It may begin with passive thoughts like, “I wouldn’t mind if I didn’t wake up tomorrow,” but those can shift into active planning if left unchecked. Just because someone hasn’t acted on it doesn’t mean they don’t need help. Depression doesn't always look the same for everyone. It could be messy rooms, low energy, or a lack of interest in things that once brought joy. It could also look like reckless behavior, withdrawing, or joking about death. These subtle signs shouldn’t be brushed off—they’re as important as overt cries for help and worth a check as little as “hey you keep making these jokes, I just want to make sure you really are okay?” If someone is talking about feeling hopeless, giving away possessions, withdrawing from loved ones, or engaging in risky behavior, these are red flags.

5. Offer practical support: Whether it’s helping with daily tasks, providing a ride to a therapy appointment, or just sitting quietly with them, practical support can be a lifeline.

6: Encourage professional help: Gently suggest therapy, medical care, or other professional help if the person hasn’t already sought it. Be patient and compassionate, understanding that reaching out can be terrifying for them.

7. Be present: Sometimes the best thing you can do is just be there. Your physical and emotional presence can provide comfort, even when there are no words.

If you have a loved one who you worry is going through something, or has confided in you and you are worried for them. Don’t wait. Speak to them. Ask them how you can help, what’s going on, listen. If you’re afraid for them, even after they have gotten to the other side, don’t let your fears tear at you for months, tell them then listen and trust that when they say they are good, have come out the other side have an action plan for when they notice the signs - belive them. If you can’t let it go still, seek your own support. The fear of loosing someone you care about is worthy of attention. If you’re reading this because someone you love is struggling with suicidal thoughts, thank you for caring. Supporting someone with suicidal ideation can be incredibly difficult, but your presence matters more than you might realize.

If you or someone you love is struggling, find Resources for Support:

1. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: Dial 988 for immediate help in the U.S. Available 24/7.

2. Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741 to connect with a trained crisis counselor.

3. The Trevor Project: Focused on supporting LGBTQ+ youth, The Trevor Project offers crisis intervention and suicide prevention services. Text START to 678678 or visit their website.

4. NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness): NAMI provides free, confidential support for mental health concerns. Call the NAMI Helpline at 1-800-950-NAMI or text NAMI to 741741.

5. The Jed Foundation: Focused on mental health support for teens and young adults, the Jed Foundation works to protect emotional health and prevent suicide. Visit jedfoundation.org for more information.

6. The Veterans Crisis Line: Veterans and their loved ones can call 988 and press 1 or text 838255 for confidential support. Available 24/7.

Suggestions for Keeping Yourself Safe:

1. Create a safety plan: Write down a plan for when suicidal thoughts occur. This could include calling a trusted friend, therapist, family, distracting yourself with an activity you enjoy, or going to a safe place where you can feel grounded and making an appointment with your doctor.

2. Reach out to a support network: Whether it’s friends, family, or a therapist, let someone know how you’re feeling. It’s important not to isolate yourself when you’re struggling.

3. Remove means: If you’re feeling unsafe, remove items that could be harmful or ask someone you trust to hold onto them temporarily. There is no shame in this ever.

4. Practice grounding techniques: When suicidal thoughts take over, try grounding yourself with techniques like deep breathing, focusing on your senses, or engaging in mindfulness exercises. These can help bring you back to the present moment. Call on your faith if you need to to get by, play with your pet anything to help you get grounded and move through the feeling

5. Remember that feelings pass: In the heat of the moment, it can feel like the pain will last forever. But emotions are temporary, and feelings—even the darkest ones—eventually pass. That feelings are normal and natural and have no moral judgement, feel it, acknowledge it, and let it move through knowing another feeling will come your way take its place.

Recovery isn’t pretty, and life isn’t perfect; but you are worth fighting for.