Camp NaNoWriMo part 12
Genre: angst (warning: suicidal thoughts)
Walter hadn’t stopped him.
Darius thought taking the initiative to get out would hurt less then getting kicked out, but the reality was that he had done that with the hope that Walter would tell him he was silly and invite him to stay. The disappointment hurt just as much as the rejection would have, only less awkward.
After living together for so many months, he should have known that Walter had a family. Should have learned more about Walter. Like why Walter was willing to stay with him when anyone else would have walked out after that disastrous night. Now he felt like an outcast in his own home, and he only had himself to blame.
He sighed. Well, he was out now. Barging into his house and forcing himself into the meeting would only make them push him out even more. He needed to find something to entertain himself, and despite what he told Walter, the library could only entertain him for so long.
On a whim, he headed for the reserve. He wasn’t in the proper attire for a good run, but he could still take a walk. That would kill a good hour’s worth of time.
Walter thought running made him happy. He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t completely right either.
Having no memories was scary. He didn’t know how other amnesiacs dealt with it. To live day to day in places that should be familiar to him but wasn’t, doing routines that his body knew but his mind didn’t. The worst part was when his mind wandered, and when he snapped back to reality, finding himself in the middle of something he didn’t know how to finish. It was like his own body had betrayed him, except, the real culprit wasn’t his body but his mind.
The person he was before he lost his memories must not have liked the reserve very much, because the place didn’t trigger anything in him. He could let his thoughts run as long and as far as he wanted and return to reality exactly where he should be. The running part was just him squeezing some exercise into his routine.
He reached the place where he met Lily and stopped. At the time, he thought she was trying to kill herself, but in hindsight, that assumption was ridiculous. The dried creak was nowhere near deep or sharp enough to kill anyone. He could think of at least two other places within walking distance that could do better.
So why was his first thought at the sight of Lily standing at the edge that she was suicidal?
He had a feeling he knew why.
How was that possible? Him? Suicidal? He couldn’t remember anything. He had nothing to feel suicidal over.
He waled to the edge of the river bank, as far as he could go without falling in. Half his feet hung over the edge as he looked down.
The urge to jump never came.
There. Proof that he wasn’t suicidal. Except… he already knew this place couldn’t do the job right. He knew at least two other places that could do better. What non-suicidal person looked at a place and rated how great it was as a suicide spot?
He could go there and do the same thing. Look down the drop and not jump. Then he could definitely say he didn’t want to kill himself.
But what if he wanted to after all?
He jerked away from the edge, recognising how dark his thoughts had turned. Now wasn’t the time to tempt himself. Now was the time to run very, very fast the other way.
~Continue the story here~
I hope this doesn’t trigger anyone. If it does, talk to someone. Talk to me if that helps. There is always hope. It’s just hard to find sometimes.