Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Scar Tissue ❯ Hopeless ( Chapter 23 )

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Part 23

I didn't want to wake up. That was my first thought when my eyes blinked open. There was a vicious headache squeezing my brain, and there was a nasty taste in my mouth. My stomach felt… unsettled. My fist throbbed, my arm ached, and my thigh stung. All very unpleasant, and all very good reasons to slip back into the void of sleep. But the longer I lay there the more apparent it became that more sleep was not forthcoming. Blearily, I sat up.

I was in my room, on my bed. I was still wearing the clothes I'd been wearing last night, though someone had taken off my boots. I rubbed my aching head. Last night… Blurred, indistinct images tumbled through my head. Oh, fuck.

Fear crept up my spine. Oh, God, I'd really done it this time. What the hell could everyone be thinking of me? My cheeks burned with shame. Stupid, stupid, stupid! And that jerk… what could have happened… Cold, sick fear gripped my stomach. Tears pricked at my eyes. Which is when I suddenly remembered bawling like a baby in front of Heero. For the second time in as many days. Only this time, I could only presume that everyone else had seen it, too. Oh, fuck.

I used to pride myself on being a person who never cried. At least not in front of other people. If I occasionally cried myself to sleep at night, well then it was no one's business but my own. Only, occasionally had grown into frequently. And not just at night. More and more often over the past couple of years, I found myself crying. Crying for so many different reasons, like the horrible, aching void in my chest, or the complete and utter helplessness that I felt. Or sometimes for no discernible reason at all. But this… this crying in front of other people… this was too horrible for words. It was absolutely mortifying. I felt so ashamed my skin was crawling.

I had to answer the call of nature. I slid listlessly off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, squinting against my pounding headache. I thought idly of taking some aspirin for it… and swallowed back a bark of hysterical laughter. Then I could have sobbed. I wondered dimly if I would ever be able to take a painkiller again without feeling overwhelmed with shame.

As I stood in the bathroom emptying my bladder, I noticed spots of dried blood on the floor. For a moment I frowned at them in confusion. And then suddenly I remembered, breath freezing in my chest. I had cut in here yesterday. But what had I done with the blades? It was a disconcerting blank in my memory.

Cursing under my breath, I hurriedly finished in the bathroom and rushed back into my room and over to the dresser. Frantically, I pawed through the drawer I had originally hid the package in. Damn, damn, DAMN! They weren't there! My eyes combed the room. I looked down at the floor. I had taken them out of the drawer, and the package had burst apart when I tried to open it. They'd scattered all over the floor. I only remembered picking the one up, the one that I'd used. I must have left the others on the floor, just like I must have left the other one in the bathroom, since I had no memory of doing anything else with it. But now they were gone. Which could only mean…

Someone had found them.

Along with blood on the bathroom floor.

Which meant that they knew I'd cut again.

I fell back against the dresser and slowly slid to the floor. For once, I couldn't even cry. I just felt such a complete and utter sense of desolation. Hopeless. This was all so incredibly hopeless. I let my head fall back against the dresser, my skull reverberating with the resulting thud. My hangover did not appreciate the gesture. I did it again anyway, harder.

"Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless…" I muttered, punctuating each word by smacking the back of my skull against the dresser. I stopped only when nausea was threatening to overwhelm me.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream more than I had ever wanted anything in my entire life. I wanted to curl into a little ball and wail. I honestly didn't know what was stopping me. So what if the others heard me? It wasn't as if things could possibly get any worse. But of course, how many times had I thought that, only to be shown that things could indeed get worse? Much, much worse. If there was anything that I had learned in the past couple of weeks, it was that I should never underestimate just how bad my life could get.

I didn't know what to do. What was there for me to do? My eyes burned, and now there were tears tracking down my face, but I didn't care. I was beyond caring anymore. What did it matter? Nothing mattered. I'd never felt more helpless. Not even the night I'd swallowed the aspirin, only a few short days ago. My jaw clenched. Why couldn't it have worked? Why'd they have to find me in time? Why couldn't I have just died?

I'm not sure how long I sat there in a daze, but finally I climbed wearily to my feet. My stomach did a flip-flop, and my headache renewed its pounding tenfold. I thought idly of all the times in the past few months that I had woken up with a hangover, and had simply started drinking again to get rid of it. It had worked really well. I suddenly remembered Dr. Mitchell suggesting that I was an alcoholic. I grimaced, thinking about what had happened last night. I guessed that there really wasn't any point in denying it any more, even to myself. Chalk it up to one more thing that I had fucked up in my life. My chest hurt so much. Just one more thing… one of so many.

Without really thinking about it I found myself leaving the room. I wasn't really sure where I was headed, but I really hoped that I didn't run into anyone else. I walked in a daze. I could only imagine how I looked. Braid messy and coming loose from being slept on. Eyes puffy and bloodshot, both from the hangover and from crying. Shoulders hunched, arms crossed over my chest, hugging my body in what could only be called a defensive posture.

I found myself in one of the upstairs parlours. There was a small wet bar in the corner. I eyed it. Christ, was I seriously considering it? I was, I really was. I shook my head. And then I found myself walking over to the bar. Why not? What did it matter anymore? My eyes roamed over the selection of bottles. My hand reached out and touched the bottle of vodka. It felt like I was in a dream, watching someone else. Some small part of me was clamouring in protest, telling me how insane it was to be even contemplating having a drink right now. I was seriously depressed, already hungover, there was no way the others wouldn't find out… My lips tightened. None of it mattered as much as the pain in my chest, or the horrible, helpless despair that was gripping my soul. None of it mattered as much as trying to numb the pain. It didn't even matter that the method was flawed, that it would only end up causing more pain. That it was, indeed, already the source of a big chunk of that pain. Maybe I could crawl into a bottle and never come out again, never… never have to think about everyone watching me while I cried drunken hysterical tears, about Heero crouching in front of me and speaking indistinct words that could only have been words of condemnation…

"Fuck it," I whispered, and picked up the bottle.

Though small, the wet bar was well-stocked with the basics, and before long I was sitting on one of the stools, sipping a Bloody Mary. Of course I knew it was a mistake. I just couldn't summon the wherewithal to care at that point. And I was hardly in a frame of mind to be thinking reasonably. I finished the glass, and was feeling… not better, no, certainly not that, but… something other than I had been feeling before. And that was priceless.

I mixed another drink and wandered over to the stereo system. I picked a CD, something loud and depressing, and put it on, hooking up the headphones as I did so. I certainly didn't want anyone else to hear it and know I was in here. The cable was long, and I settled myself down in one of the overstuffed armchairs with my drink. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the chair, sipping occasionally from my glass as I let the music wash over me, drowning out my thoughts.

Of course it couldn't last. I had a new CD playing and was sipping at my third drink when I was found. I had been leaning back in the chair, lost in the music when the headphones were quite abruptly removed from my head. I blinked up at the person standing over me. Heero. Shit.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked. Heero looked less than pleased. Heero looked like he wanted to pound the shit out of me. Without even thinking about it, I found myself smirking at him. Christ, I must really have a death wish.

"I'm listening to some music," I said before taking another sip of my drink. Thankfully, the words were not even slightly slurred. My months of excessive drinking guaranteed that it would take more than three drinks to get me off-balance. It was then that I noticed Hilde and Quatre were also in the room, hovering back towards the door, their faces stricken. I looked away from them, taking another sip, holding on to the dubious comfort of the alcohol burning a path down my throat.

"And what about this?" Heero asked, gesturing at the glass in my hand with disgust. Disgust. I wanted to curl up away from it, but I held my body rigid, held the anger and resentment at bay.

"It's nothing," I mumbled, sipping again, needing reinforcement.

"Nothing?" Heero seethed. I peered up at him in surprise. Heero was very, very angry. I'd never seen him so angry. He wanted to hit me. I could see it in his eyes. The tension between us was palpable. Unconsciously I found myself sinking back into the chair. Hilde stepped forward uncertainly.

"Quatre went to your room to check on you, but you weren't there. Gave us all quite a scare, thinking maybe you'd taken off again," Hilde said, her voice calm and reasonable. I smirked again, hating myself all the while.

"Well, I'm right here, no need to get all worked up," I said scornfully. Heero leaned down, his eyes boring into me. I shrank back warily.

"You think this is funny?" he asked, his voice low and deadly. Oh, shit. "You think it's funny that you had your friends worried to death about you, yet again!" His voice was rising, but retained its deadly anger. I couldn't help but wince. "You're sitting there, apparently set on drinking yourself into a stupor again, and you think no one had any right to be worried?" He was yelling now. Heero didn't yell. I saw Trowa and then Wufei appear in the doorway behind Quatre, apparently drawn by the noise. Last of all Sally appeared, her face drawn as she took in the situation. Fuck. All I needed was an audience.

"Leave me alone," I muttered darkly, bringing the glass to my lips again. Only it didn't quite make it. Heero lashed out and knocked the drink from my hand, the glass shattering as it hit the floor. I heard several sharp intakes of breath. I blinked at the shards of glass on the floor in disbelief. Anger swelled in my chest. I rose to my feet, staring Heero in the face.

"What the hell did you do that for?!" I yelled.

"For your own good," he said, his eyes meeting mine challengingly. Fury blinded me. How dare he? How dare he imply that I was some child that didn't know how to take care of itself? How dare he imply that he knew better than I did what was best for me? Who cared if he was probably right? I pushed him, and he wasn't expecting it so he stepped back, and I easily stepped around him and headed for the bar. I don't know what I was thinking. Crazy, simply crazy to be thinking of making myself another drink right there in front of everyone. But Heero didn't give me the opportunity. As soon as he saw where I was headed, he reached out and grabbed my arm, swinging me back around to face him.

"Let go of me!" I yelled, pulling futilely at my arm. He was stronger than me of course, Mr. Can-Bend-Steel-With-His-Bare-Hands. I was so angry. I couldn't see straight, couldn't think straight, just pulled and jerked in blind rage, trying to get loose, cursing all the while. The strange thing was, I wasn't angry at him, at least, not a lot. Mostly, I was angry at myself. Angry that I had gotten myself into this situation, angry that I couldn't see any way out of it, angry at my stupidity, at my helplessness, at the horrible choking despair that was swallowing me whole. Heero was just a convenient target at the moment. "Let me go you fucking SON OF A BITCH!" I screamed in helpless rage.

That's when it happened. I didn't even see it coming. Heero let go of my arm and hauled back and belted me in the face. The blow knocked me off my feet, and I went sprawling backwards on the floor. My skull hit the hardwood with a resounding crack.

Silence. Dead silence.

I stared up at the ceiling in a daze, my ears ringing. I reached up and gingerly touched my split lip. There was blood in my mouth. Suddenly, the spell was broken, and Hilde rushed forward.

"Duo!" she cried, kneeling beside me. I sat up with some effort, shrugging her off.

"Get away from me," I muttered darkly, then immediately felt guilty at her hurt look. I wasn't angry at her, hell, I wasn't even angry at Heero. I looked up at him, wiping blood from my chin. He was just standing there, looking down at me with the most bizarre expression on his face. It occurred to me that he was more surprised than anyone that he had hit me. Sally was hovering around behind Hilde, probably concerned that I had suffered great injury. But the split lip was nothing. The reawakened pounding headache from cracking my skull off the floor was nothing. Not when compared to the feeling in my chest.

It seemed to me that I should feel some indignation, some anger over Heero hitting me. But I didn't. I just felt empty. I felt so incredibly empty and helpless. And it scared me. It scared me to the core of my being, that absence of… of something vital. I looked at Heero again, at the desolate look in his eyes, at the way he was clenching his fists at his sides. I looked at the others, still hovering back by the door, such out-of-character uncertainty on their faces. Finally, I looked at Hilde, kneeling at my side, and Sally, standing behind her. At their uncertainty, their desolation. All because of me. All caused by me.

I rubbed my face wearily. Swallowed the blood still leaking into my mouth from my split lip. How had I gotten here? How had this happened to me? How… how could I make this stop? I buried my face in my hands. Traitorous tears were slipping from my eyes yet again.

"I… I don't know… what to do," I mumbled brokenly, despair gripping my heart, squeezing the life from my soul. "I'm… sorry. I'm so sorry… Someone… someone please tell me what I'm supposed to do…"

Silence reigned in the room.

TBC