Result: Nix’s road to recovery
Warrning: Might be a touchy subject
My paintbrush danced on the canvas transmitting my inner thoughts onto this piece of paper.
A year ago, I never would’ve thought I would paint. I would’ve laughed at the person who’d suggested it and then proceeded to show them my truly just excellent stickman skills.
But a lot of things happened in a year.
I dipped my paintbrush into the mix of colors, each color representing nearly every emotion possible. I swirled it, gathering two of them and creating a completely new color.
A small smile touched my lips as I remembered my first love. When I’d told Alec about him he’d voiced my own worries. This boy, known as the hacker Reaper, was a cancer patient. Which meant he could die. But I’d set those worries away, and I’d met this boy in the hospital he stayed. I got to know him, I got to hear his laugh and share his smile.
And when he passed away due to the cancer having spread too far, I was an absolute wreck. I couldn’t think straight, hell I couldn’t even breathe when I heard the news.
I think…that maybe I could’ve gotten over it if I hadn’t met that boy. His name was Jerry and he represented everything I should’ve stayed away from. He naturally radiated that bad boy attitude. He had rings wherever it was possible to put them, ears, nose, lips, eyebrows, you name it. He reeked of smoke and dark bags were permanently engraved under his eyes. With his multi-colored hair and his pockets filled with drugs, he’d decided to sit beside me. Me who’d been sitting outside the hospital building mourning the loss of a dear friend.
I was vulnerable and in need of comfort and he was right there ready to offer it. This complete stranger. The moment I’d let him hug me and stroke my back, I was stuck in his web. He showed me a completely new world. A darker world, and it shocked me to know it actually existed. I was so used to the happy life I’d led so far, I hadn’t noticed there were people who were suffering every day.
I joined his group of friends and let myself be fascinated and influenced by their everyday life. I stayed away from the drugs, the smoking, the tattoos and the piercings though. I merely sat next to them, feeling like I belonged, and I listened to them speak. I watched them act and I comforted myself in the fact I wasn’t the one who suffered the most. But then I would come back to the other side of the world, where people walked the streets in their normal routine unable to face the dark facts I had been privy to. That world soon became to be a nuisance. The contrast between the two was too much, and my old world seemed like such a joke now. So eventually I broke and tried cutting myself, just like I’d seen the people in my group do.
But my brothers reacted so strongly, I was too afraid to try again. Deep inside I was disgusted with myself for trying, and on the outside I was angry at my brothers, my family, for not understanding and for assigning me to a therapist. Not that I gave them a chance, they were too happy in that ignorant world of theirs.
I didn’t want to cut myself again though, and I tried going back to just observing my friends, but next were the drugs. Just like that, one of those more miserable days, I decided to try it out. The feeling it gave me, when it made the pain go away, was too precious for me to pass. So, it became a normal thing. The drugs made my days seem happier and I managed to fool the people around me, making them think I was getting better. I put an act in front of the therapist, and he started to actually believe I was doing well.
But then one day, the group I’d been hanging out with, the ones who’d been supporting everyone of my decisions, decided to disappear. They weren’t at the normal meeting spot, and it wasn’t until a few days later that I found out that they’d participated in a group suicide. At first, I was unbelievably angry and frustrated at them for doing something like that. But then, I started to feel the pressure of being alone, and I started to go into withdrawal since they’d been my main suppliers for the drug.
I eventually succumbed; I couldn’t think straight anymore and I just wanted to stop living. It was too oppressing, and I could only see grey around me. There was never anything else anymore. I attempted a suicide.
But I was found out, and mom finally decided the therapist wasn’t helping. After I got out of the hospital, my mom forced me to tell her everything. I poured my heart out, and she quickly became my new therapist.
After that, I wasn’t responsive, but my parents eventually wore me down. That’s around when I took up painting. It’s become therapeutic for me on itself.
Then, I had a surprising visit from an old childhood friend. Cliff.
Cliff and I used to hang out in the electronic club together, but as I got to know Reaper, and especially after he died, I ended up losing contact with Cliff. He ended up being one of those ignorant people who couldn’t understand. I hadn’t realized how much he’d actually become worried for me until he came to personally see me at my house.
Of course at that point he’d changed a bit.
See my Cliff gets a bit too hot headed sometimes. He’s easily provoked into fights, and the boys of his neighbourhood enjoy fighting with him. But even if he lives a good whole town away, he always makes an effort to take the bus and come see me.
Normally with bruises on his skin and with the excuse that I needed to nurse him back to health. Even if I feel discouraged everytime I see a bruise on his face, he can lift my spirits in a matter of seconds. Sometimes I ask myself what he’d do without me! But most importantly, what I’d do without him.
Nix’s choices in boyfriends aren’t really the best for her…
So that was the intermission, next up Arc 6 I believe!