It had taken three weeks before he was able to leave the psych ward the hospital had forced him into. The accident that caused the stay was not worth speaking about and he had been under suicide watch for a lengthy amount of time. He had been spoken to by a psychiatrist several times, but eventually he had simply forced her hand. It was easy enough to suggest that she say he was stable enough to leave the ward. Liam was tired of being in the overly sterilized room, tired of being watched by doctors, tired of having to deal with fake smiles. He made sure they didn’t make a fuss about him leaving alone. It was the first time in a long time that he was glad for his telepathy. They still stuck him with a prescription for anti-depressants before he managed to leave, but as soon as he was outside the doors of the hospital he felt a little better. Not by much, but it was something.
For a while he wandered about, a slight limp to his step that the doctor’s said would eventually go away. He’d been in the damn hospital too long though for the bone to have mended and Liam wondered when the last time he’d slept was. There was something nagging at him in the back of his mind, much like the persistent ache in his skull that still hadn’t gone away. He was in a numb haze, exhaustion and weariness clinging to him like death. He thought about going home, back to the apartment waiting for him, but he didn’t as the numbness slowly seeped out of him and everything he had pushed to the back of his mind hit him like a freight train. He sent a simple text message to the only two people that mattered.
Out of the hospital. Not heading back home. See you in a few days.
It was irresponsible. He didn’t know why he didn’t just head back home. He didn’t know why he went into the first hotel he saw and booked a room for a night. Liam simply took the key, and made his way to the room he had been given. It took several steps to the bed for him to drop into it and scream obscenities into the pillow before the wracking sobs shook him like a leaf in the wind. Even then, when he had spent all his tears and felt as if he could pass on into oblivion, sleep would not come. He was afraid of the nightmares that would come, and even a few minutes of sleep had him jerking awake. Slowly, he rose from the bed and made his way to the small bathroom.
The reflection staring back at him had seen better days. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this badly, or this low. Blue green eyes stared out of the mirror at him and he shut them briefly, tears running rivulets down his cheeks. Fingers curled around the porcelain sink as he swayed, exhaustion catching up to him but he couldn’t sleep. His eyes hurt from staying awake so long and all he wanted was to close them and never wake up again.
There was never any point.
Someone, somewhere in the expanse of the universe had made it so his life was perpetual and everlasting. No matter how many times he died, he would revive again and now he would remember. He remembered flashes of events that had happened before, things he shouldn’t know. His head ached as if a hammer was beating against his skull. There was a scream bubbling up in his throat, ready to be released and he pressed his fist against his mouth. Teeth bit into flesh until he tasted blood on his knuckles.
He splashed water on his face with trembling hands, and it was then that he noticed his entire body was shaking and he swayed on his feet. At some point, he’d ordered liquor, and wanting to be stupid he opened up the bottle of pills he’d been given at the hospital and swallowed a few with the alcohol. By the time the phone was in his hand, his vision was blurry and he was a sobbing, shaking mess. He knew he was missing the keys each time he sent a message, but he didn’t care. He thought about calling, because it would be nice to hear his brother’s voice, but he thought better of it, ended the conversation and finally passed out on the bed.
