#while i disassociate into a world that actually loved me and the waves collide into my very being at last i am home i am amoung the dead

[starsambrosia]

My goal is to give everyone that follows me /or even looks at my posts/ whiplash in the tags.

[writehardwhumpharder]

Giving up - Carson series

-----Trigger Warning---- This chapter is heavily focused on mental illness, mild drug use, and eating disorders. Do not read if you find any of these subjects triggering. This part of Carson’s story is particularly dark. This takes place when he was 16 and a junior in high school. There is PHYSICAL and EMOTIONAL WHUMP in the form of self-neglect, fainting, and a trip to the hospital.

Carson stared at himself for an unknown amount of time. He couldn't really remember what he was doing in the school bathroom in the first place. He only knew that after he came to stand here in front of the mirror everything slowed to a stop. His feet were cemented into the ground, preventing him from moving. And he stared so closely at his own eyes that his vision started to warp. He looked tired... and he was. It took a full two minutes to ask himself when he last slept and another two to conjure the answer. Three days ago. He'd been awake for around 62 hours now. The fatigue settled deep into his bones. He wanted to collapse at any moment, give in to the static that threatened to pull him under. But at the same time he wanted this feeling to last forever. Distantly he remembered that he was supposed to be in class, or maybe it was lunch. He didn't have any plans of eating so it didn't really matter which one he was missing. Carson forced his muscles to move as he instructed them, using his hands to unzip his backpack and fish out the empty altoids container that was now home to a half smoked joint and some kind of cheap e-cigarette. It's not like he could get lung cancer, he'd just cure himself later.

"Life is meaningless," he muttered as he lit the joint, blowing the smoke out the propped open window. If the bathroom didn't perpetually reek of weed he might be worried about getting caught. The other kids were too scared of him to tattle. He may or may not have played up his psychic abilities so they were convinced he'd really find out anything they said about him behind his back. The bathroom door squeaked open and Carson started to put out the joint before seeing it was some child, a freshman obviously. "Get lost." He said through a cloud of smoke. The kid disappeared without a fight. They always did. Now that he was free from his temporary catatonic state and proved capable of moving and speaking, Carson decided it was time to go find his way back to class. Maybe he'd even learn something. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

Making sure the stub of the joint was completely out, Carson settled on tossing it right in the trash can as he left. The hallway was nearly empty, emptier now that he was around. The hum of the air conditioner threatened to lull him to sleep as he dragged his feet down the hallway. Any intention of going back to class was quickly abandoned when he realized he had no idea which class he was supposed to be in or even what time it was. The hallway was lined with clocks so theoretically he should be able to check but his eyes didn't cooperate when he squinted at the clock hands. Lack of sleep will do that to you.  As the effects of weed started washing over him in waves, suddenly the heaviness of Carson's black hoodie felt lovely on his skin. His hood was already up, covering his mess of dark brown hair, but he pulled it down further over his face in an attempt to breathe in every scrap of comfort it had to offer. His mom washed it for him often, embedding the sweet scent of laundry detergent into its fibers.

Carson found himself in the staircase. Naturally his feet had led him here, one of the most tranquil places in the school. The walls and stairs were painted a solid white and large windows let in the mid-afternoon sunlight. In the back of his mind he couldn't forget that this wasn't where he was supposed to be. His mom would be so sad if she received another call from the school about his frequent disappearances. She said she understood how he felt. That he needed to get away sometimes. But still, she had basic hopes for him to graduate high school and get a decent job. As of now he wasn't on track toward either of those goals because while he still got A's in most of his classes his lack of attendance was borderline truancy.

"Um, Carson?" Someone asked from the connecting hallway. Carson looked up through red, glazed over eyes. It was Pete, one of the football players in his 4th period science class. "Mrs. Finn asked me to find you and bring you back to class." He stated plainly.

"Did she now?" Carson asked, habitually glancing at his left hand for something to smoke. Disappointment washed over him when he found it empty again.

"Yeah. She said she won't mark you up if you come back for the last 15 minutes," said Pete. Carson could tell he was trying really hard not to provoke him.

"Lucky me," Carson drawled, turning his gaze to the window beside him.

"Are you coming?" Pete asked when he'd officially lost Carson's attention again.

"Mmm, yeah I guess."

Without another word Pete turned around and allowed Carson to follow a few feet behind him. Pete wasn't so bad. He treated him more or less like everyone else did but being a tough football player he couldn't admit to being scared of him. It was refreshing to get within ten feet of someone without them flinching. Wow, he was so alone that walking vaguely near another person felt like a treat. They walked for quite a ways, showing just how far Carson had wandered. They had to go to the other end of the school and up a flight of stairs. The stairs proved to be a bit of a challenge. Carson was just so tired, physically, mentally, spiritually. That single flight of stairs took everything out of him. He had to grab onto the railing and half haul himself up with his arms. Pete waited up at the top while Carson took his sweet time with each and every step upward. Spots started to dance around his vision alarmingly but Carson wasn't about to admit that to Pete. Instead he focused on breathing a little quieter and keeping his eyes on the ground.

"You, uh, seem different lately," Pete said experimentally.

"How so?"

"Like... you're giving in. Becoming what people think you are." Carson stopped, speechless.

"Nevermind. What do I know?" Pete laughed nervously.

"You think, I'm not, what people think...?" The question sounded as disassociated as Carson felt but Pete still understood him.

"I think you could be dangerous, if you wanted to be. But you're not so different from every other student here trying to get through the day. Don't prove them right."

Carson laughed and stumbled a bit, catching himself at the last moment. Pete didn't miss the slip. There was judgment in his gaze, and something else, pity. Carson almost felt bad for being stoned right now. "Shouldn't class be over by now? We've been walking for forever." Carson whined.

"It's been 3 minutes," Pete corrected.

"Right, sure."

Pete had the decency to look forward while still slowing his pace to match Carson's. He wasn't watching when the spots took over Carson's vision again. The floor rocked beneath him, threatening to send him stumbling into the wall. What's wrong with me? Carson questioned himself. Maybe it was the complete lack of sleep and fuel normally used to propel a person. In any case, the carpet was looking real cozy right about now. The plaid pattern was so inviting as if to say Go ahead, sleep. You could just lie down right here, right now.

"Hey, wait a second. I wanna take a nap," Carson spoke up.

Pete spun around to dispute an impromptu nap when they were mere yards from the classroom but Carson had already resigned to the weight dragging him down. His eyes fluttered closed as the world tilted on its side. He collided with the carpet in a way that should have hurt but all he felt was warmth and oblivion. Why bother  anymore…

---

Carson woke up in an ambulance. Not the floor where he'd fallen asleep, not the nurse's office at the school, but an ambulance speeding down the highway. Either he'd slept through the initial evaluation from the nurse or they had thought it was that urgent enough to warrant a trip straight to the hospital. It was impossible to guess how long he had been out. Carson hadn't even considered that things might get this bad. He just needed some sleep, right?

A paramedic fussing with some tubes noticed his eyes open and put a hand down on his shoulder in case he tried to sit up. "Just lay down and relax. We're almost to the hospital." He said with a light squeeze on his shoulder before lifting his hand away and going back to what he was doing.

"Wha's that?" Carson slurred.

"We're just starting you on an IV, you're very dehydrated. The doctor will be able to tell you more."

"Did anyone call my mom?"

"Yes, the school is required to. I'm sure she'll meet us there as soon as she can." He said reassuringly.

They settled back into silence, leaving only the sound of tires skidding across bumps on the freeway. The siren wasn't on, it wasn't serious enough to warrant it. Carson was left to stare up at the metal roof of the ambulance wondering just how the hell he had gotten here. It added up. The lack of sleep, lack of food, lack of water, and the lack of will to obtain any of those things for himself. No doubt his mom would lose her shit and start watching him like a hawk at home. She'd probably offer to make his favorite foods and tuck him in at night just to make sure he actually ate and slept. She'd offer to help him with his homework then stealthily have him explain it all to her, completing the assignment without even realizing it.

"We're here. There will be a little bump as we guide out the stretcher," the paramedic said. His partner who had been driving came around the back to help and as promised there was a harsh bump when the wheels hit the ground, "there we go."

A nurse met them at the door and reviewed all the information they had while directing the paramedics to transfer him to ER bay 3. The whole thing was surprisingly boring, not at all like they showed on tv. It was embarrassing too. Something about laying down while everyone else is standing.. or the fact that most of this was overkill.

"Okay, Carson Hall, aged 16, date of birth November 8th, 1992. Your home address is listed as 2447 Farelly St. Is all that information correct?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"And you lost consciousness while at school," she said, reading off a paper.

"Apparently."

"Right, well, staying unconscious for longer than 10 minutes is concerning so I'm going to ask the doctor to order some tests. I'll just check your IV, okay, looks good," she said as she poked at him and double checked that the tubes and drip speed were all correct.

"Are all those tests really necessary?" Carson asked.

"We only need a couple blood samples to run them, it'll take less than a minute of your time." She informed him.

"You know what? I just remembered I don't have health insurance," Carson said, sitting up. She didn't stop him from sitting but she practically swatted his left hand away when he tried to touch the IV site.

"Nice try but you have to stay until a parent or guardian can sign you out. Your condition isn't serious for now so we'll wait for authorization before running tests. I want to be clear with you though that while you're not actively dying, long term neglect of your health can have serious consequences." Said the nurse. There was a slight sweetness to her tone. It wasn't entirely dry and blunt like many ER nurses he's encountered. "For now, feel free to get some sleep. If you need anything you can press that red button there. Any questions?"

"No."

The nurse dragged the curtain around his bed partially closed for some more privacy. While the ER wasn't exactly busy at that time of day she had other patients to tend to. Carson was left to sit on his bed and wait. Luckily he still had his phone in his pocket and the paramedics hadn't felt the need to cut off any of his clothing. He turned it on to find several missed calls and texts from his mom. Carson didn't like talking on the phone but she was most likely driving at the moment so texting might not be the best idea.

"Oh sweetie, how are you?" She said, voice practically dripping with sympathy.

"I'm fine. This really isn't necessary." Carson complained.

"Well the school has strict guidelines for when emergency services need to be called."

"I was just sleeping." He insisted.

"People who are just sleeping can be woken up, honey." He couldn't argue with that. "I'm almost there, see you in a few minutes." Carson heard some honking and swearing from the other end before she hung up. Probably road raging in her hurry to get to him. His phone slipped out of his hand as he involuntarily dozed off again. When he woke up both his mom and the doctor were standing over him.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"The doctor is explaining your test results," his mom said quickly, giving his hand a squeeze. He didn't even notice she was holding it until then.

"Don't you need to take blood samples or something?"

"Already did. The hard part is over. Would you like me to start over with your results?" The doctor asked. Since he was 16 they had some obligation to speak directly to him as the patient.

"Nah. It doesn't matter," Carson dismissed him.

"Actually it does matter. And I suspect you know that," the doctor challenged.

"Just get on with it so I can go home. I can go home right?"

"Yes, your mom can discharge you as soon as we establish a treatment plan." The doctor said calmly.

"A treatment plan for what?" Carson snapped.

The doctor took a deep breath as if what she was about to explain could take a while. "Well we're fairly certain your episode at school was caused by severe lack of sleep as well as severe dehydration. The problem goes beyond that though. You're also showing early signs of malnourishment. The blood test shows several vitamin deficiencies and anemia. The drug test..." Carson's eyes went wide, they did a drug test too?? "...came back positive for marijuana, nicotine, alcohol, and prescription sedatives such as Xanax, Valium, Klonopin, or Ativan."

"Klonopin," Carson stated, answering the unasked question. He didn't bother to dispute any of the other substances. It was all true after all. The doctor made a note on his chart.

"The levels are fairly low so we don't believe you have a drug problem. I'm leaning toward mental illness. Depression or anxiety. It's common for symptoms to start appearing in the late teens. Does any of that sound right to you, Carson?"

Carson laid on his side and crossed his arms so he didn't have to look at the doctor who didn't seem at all surprised by his uncooperative response. When he didn't answer his mom spoke  for him, "Depression, undiagnosed." Having it all out in the open now Carson felt the sudden urge to run far, far away. He could do it. No one would be able to stop him.

"I can write a prescription for antidepressants. We'd start at a low dose and see how he responds. I suggest finding a psychiatrist who can give more specialized care."

"I don't want antidepressants," Carson mumbled into his pillow.

"Are you sure you don't want medication? It is far more effective at treating depression than self-medicating which can make the problem worse."

None of this was news for him. He knew he was depressed, he also knew he wasn't handling it well on his own. "I don't want to be sedated."

"And here I thought you had a preference for sedatives," she told him, referring to the Klonopin.

"Fuck off," Carson bit, finally snapping under the tension of this entire situation. Lying helplessly on a hospital bed while his mom made sad puppy eyes at him and the doctor listed off all his flaws in medical terminology. It felt like his worst nightmare. There was a combination of fear, guilt, and bitter sadness.

"Carson!" His mom scolded, "do not talk to the doctor like that."

"It's okay. It's normal to be upset." She assured her. To Carson though the statement felt patronizing. You'd think it would feel good to have your problems be waved off as "normal" but it doesn't.

"I'll take him to see a psychiatrist for the depression and work on healthier behaviors at home." His mom said.

The doctor nodded, "Sounds like a plan. If you do find that you need more help you can always come back here or see your GP. I highly recommend getting a daily multivitamin and iron supplement at your local pharmacy. Being a nurse I'm sure you're more than qualified to monitor his eating and sleeping habits at home. If you don't have any more questions you can head on over to the front desk to sign the discharge papers."

"Okay."

"Have a nice rest of your day Mrs. Hall," the doctor said, shaking hands with his mother before leaving. Carson was still pointedly ignoring her so she just gave him a closed mouth smile without a handshake. With the doctor gone his mom's attention turned entirely to him.

"Oh, my poor baby, why didn't tell me you were struggling so much?" She asked as she took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"I didn't want to."

"Why? You know you can talk to me."

"Because this is worse. The doctors and medications and all that. I'd rather just be at home." He whined.

"Well sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better. I'll go fill out those forms then we can go straight home. Unless you want to pick up some food on the way?"

"Coffee," he mumbled.

"No more coffee for you. You need sleep."

"Mommmm," Carson whined.

"No. You know I'm right." She said.

---

As soon as they got in the car Carson put his earbuds in to listen to some music. His mom hated when he did that, especially when she wanted to talk to him. Figuring he had already been through enough that day she let it slide this time. At each red light she glanced over at him, taking note of the way his giant black hoodie hung on his bony shoulders. All the signs were there, today was just the tipping point. Deep down she blamed herself like it was somehow her fault he ended up with magic. She wanted her son to have friends, socialize, and have fun. But he was so completely isolated, closed off from the world on both his end and theirs.

Once they got home she made sure he went to sleep on the couch before ducking out to go to the pharmacy. Carson napped for maybe five minutes before a spark of anxiety woke him up again. He didn't want to sleep and eat proper meals, take vitamins and see a therapist. He wanted to see how far he could go like this. He wanted his suffering to be so loud he couldn't think anymore. He had a number of ways to stop thinking.

Carson didn't hesitate to go out on the back porch and fish the plastic bag out of the bushes next to the deck where he hid his weed. He had maybe 20 minutes before his mom got back, plenty of time to get stoned and go up to his room. Everything felt right with the world while he held the joint between his fingers breathing it in every time he felt the need. A haze settled over the backyard and suddenly the breeze blowing through the tall maple tree was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. It was like the whole incident at the hospital never even happened. He wondered what it would be like to go to school tomorrow. Maybe it was just Pete who saw him pass out. Carson sure hoped he was the only one in the hallway. Truthfully he didn't remember it too clearly.

Carson sort of lost track of time and had to hide his stuff quickly then run upstairs at the sound of the car in the driveway. His mom would easily smell the lingering scent of weed in the air but at least he had done it outside. Mere seconds after he jumped into bed he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Carson, we still have a lot to talk about." She called out. There was no lock on his door, it had originally been a closet so why would there be? Instead he sent just a hint of magic into the wards drawn onto his door that would keep anyone from entering. She turned the knob uselessly. "Carson, unlock this door." She demanded.

"No."

"I'm serious. It's not cool to use your magic against me like that."

"Go away."

"Not until you open the door."

"That doesn't make sense. Why would I open the door to make you go away? That's counterproductive." He argued.

She sighed. If he was arguing, he was probably fine, she reasoned. "Fine. I'll give you some more time but we will talk about this. Don't forget about your homework." Carson pulled the covers over his head. He didn't really know what to do. He didn't want to change. His mom was going to plan everything out for him, force him to be healthy. The school might even insist on having a meeting with both of them.

All at once the walls of his room started to cave in on him. The tiny space just large enough for a twin bed felt even tinier. It was suffocating. He hastily pushed open his window and took in a desperate breath of fresh air. He needed to get out. He needed to run. And so he did. Carson used magic to orchestrate the escape from popping out the window screen to jumping off the roof onto the driveway. His mom would just have to forgive him.