Ch 1 - Dylan

I don’t like who I am, or who I’ve become. Never did, and probably never will. That thought smothers my brain every single day at this God-forsaken hospital, and it continues to smother me as I sneak out of my room at around midnight. I find myself going through the busy hospital halls and onto the rooftop.

The skies are painted a beautiful dark purple tonight and I feel the gentle breeze blowing on my hair as I sit near the ledge of the building. The excessive bright lights, candy canes, reindeer and other decorations scattered around the block reminds me that Christmas is near, and that the people outside are currently celebrating. That must be so nice. As the bright lights of the fairly distant city remind me of hope, the cold wind brushing against my skin reminds me why I'm here.

I am going to kill myself.

I used to frequent the hospital as a child for check-ups. By age nine, the doctors discovered that I have a weak heart and any form of strenuous activity could potentially be fatal. My medication cost my family a fortune and while I’m sure that they can afford it, keeping me locked up here must be such a huge burden for them.

Now at age sixteen, I’m hopelessly stuck in a monotonous routine facilitated by Natalie, who works as a nurse here and is probably the closest friend I’ve got right now.

My days would always consist of the same old crap. Natalie and I would sometimes just hang out and put on music from my laptop whenever she’s free and talk about how our day went, but it’s usually her who does the talking. One thing about her is that she just won’t shut up about her favorite bands, especially this band in particular. “Silent Confessions” was a local band she would brag about a lot, saying they should be more famous.

I sometimes write down my thoughts in a small notebook which I had used before for school as a diary after Natalie had suggested how it might help with being alone all the time. It’s the only thing that I’ve ever opened up to, and it can’t even talk back to me. Pathetic, right? I might as well be dead. I, as I always have in the past, just sleep it off as if the next day would be any different.

This is my life, and it’s all it will ever be. That is why I had decided to call it quits. I’ve endured enough. I’ve had enough.

I stand by the ledge as I count the last few minutes of my meaningless life.

“Damn it! I know I left it here somewhere!”

A lone voice hurriedly breaks through the miasmic silence. My body jumps up and I struggle to keep my balance. As I take a step back and turn my head, I find some guy with messy mid-length brown hair with skinny ripped jeans and a black tank top who looks like he just came back from a My Chemical Romance concert.

His gaze wanders around still trying to find whatever it is he was looking for before he turns to me.

“Hey, have you by any chance seen a navy blue jacket around here?”

“Um, no. I don’t think so.” I replied sparingly. I feel faint.

“Alright, that’s cool, thanks!” He pauses for a second, and chuckles. “Anyway, see ya!”

As soon as he leaves, I quickly regain composure and I hesitantly go back to my room. Maybe some other day.

I lay down on my bed, restless, as I reflect on how I managed to not throw myself out of that ledge. I was ready to do it. I was, wasn’t I? It all feels like a blur now. Why are things turning out like this? I should probably get some sleep and figure all of this out tomorrow.

My head keeps on spiraling down towards more destructive thoughts as the same four white walls feel even more suffocating than ever. I’ve lost count of how many years I’ve been trapped in here.

Is this all I’m ever going to amount to? Am I stuck living like this?

Am I still even living?

This single thought that’s been haunting me for what feels like forever has repeatedly driven me back against the wall more times than I can count.

My chest is pounding like a drum, and it just won’t let up. My breathing speeds up as the world slows down, and my mind spirals like a whirlpool of thoughts.

Am I dead? Did I jump off last night? What is happening? Help.

I wake up in my bed, thinking about how last night could have gone without the interruption. Would I have been able to do it this time? Looking in the mirror makes it painfully obvious that I haven’t had decent sleep in a while. Natalie was right. I do seem pale lately, and my eyebags are getting deeper. I shrug off my thoughts before I start hating myself even more and find myself wandering around the hospital again, not expecting much, but it does help clear my head.

As I walk around, I arrive near the entrance and find the exit that leads to the hospital park where people rarely go, mostly because it was ill-maintained. The same could be said about the rooftop, I think. Speaking of the rooftop, I absent-mindedly go back up there as I make sense of things. The rooftop looks so different at this time, and I noticed how the place would have looked so much better if they maintained it. There were still plants, chairs, and a few benches where people used to hang out, but the space is closed off for some reason. After a bit more snooping around, I made my way back and decided to call it a day.

It’s dark, and I feel a chill run down my spine. I feel a creeping darkness slowly coil around my body. I can’t move, but I struggle anyway to no avail. As I struggle harder, the darkness creeps in faster.

What should I do? What can I do? It’s coming for me. I–