Austen stumbled into the bathroom that was connected to his room. He felt he had no other choice than to go through with what fate had set up for him and Sam. He felt like he couldn't have stopped it even if he wanted to. There was nothing left for him. Sam left. Sam was gone. There was nothing left for him.
Austen opened the medicine cabinet, grabbing his bipolar medication. He opened the bottle and poured the pills into his hands. He took a sharp breath.
Sam opened his eyes after managing to calm himself close enough to his normal demeanor, the words on his wrist catching his eye. His wrist had been aching for the last few minutes and he couldn't understand why. He hadn't done anything to hurt it, it wasn't sprained, it wasn't twisted or cut or wounded.
"So keep out of my room because I've seen enough of you today," Sam read quietly, his fingertips grazing the blackened words. The wheels were turning in his head, albeit slowly. His eyes widened in fear as he realized what was wrong.
It was like it was in slow motion. Sam quickly stood up, opened the door and rushed into Austen's bedroom to be granted by the sight of him gone.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Sam yelled angrily. He clenched his fists and ran to the bathroom door. He banged on the door, jiggled the doorknob, fumbled for a key, and nearly bit a hole through his lip.
"No, no, no, please, God, no," Sam cried as he continued to fail to get the bathroom door open. "No, no, no, FUCK!"
Sam cursed under his breath, continually repeating "no" and "fuck" in a string of multitudes of patterns. He battered his body into the door, hoping to knock it down, though to no avail.
Moments later, he managed to find a key lodged in the corner of the top of the door frame. He quickly unlocked the door and burst into the bathroom, only to be frozen in a sensation of shock and fear.
Austen laid in the bathtub, unconscious, surrounded by a multitude of numerous different prescription medication bottles. Each had been prescribed to him at one time or another. Sam didn't know how long Austen had been off of his medication and he felt his heart drop out of his chest when it dawned on him how Austen had stopped taking the medication and saved it. There was a reason. Sam wondered if this was it.
Sam fell to his knees and felt his throat tighten. He bit his lip harshly in a weak attempt to stop the on-slot of shuddering sobs that would wreck his body.
"No, no, no," Sam cried, his fists clenching tighter. His knuckles were white from the lack of blood flow. "Austen, you can't do this to me! No! No! No! Nonononono!!"
Sam screamed in anguish. He stood up and impulsively swung at the wall, decking a sizable hole.
"Fuck," Sam hissed, shaking his now-bloody hand in an attempt to ease the pain. Sam wondered if causing himself physical harm would stop the emotional pain from being such a burden. He couldn't handle it. He didn't want to handle it. Sam had never thought about self-harm before but there was never another time in his life where he had felt so broken that it was the only idea that passed through his mind.
Sam clumsily sat back down on the ground, next to the bathtub, next to Austen. He blinked back tears and bit back a sob. He couldn't process it.
"How could I have been so stupid?!" Sam seethed. "I had a dream about this, my wrist, everything! I should've seen this coming, I knew it was coming, I didn't do a thing and now you're fucking dead and you're gone and I can't get you back. You're gone, you're gone, it's all my fault, you're gone."
Sam broke down into a heart-wrenching sob, sending a shudder down his whole body, leaving a tingle in his toes and a feeling of dread in his head. He grabbed Austen's hand that hung over the ledge and laced his fingers with his own.
"I love you," Sam sobbed. "So much more than you'll ever know. Than you've ever known. You were my best friend, I'm so sorry. I love you."
Sam turned Austen's arm around and pressed his fingers to his wrist, feeling for a pulse, any sign of help.
"No," Sam breathed.
There was none.
Sam drunkenly climbed into the bathtub, holding Austen in his arms, and cried.
BLONDE Page 11
