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Kellin

Through Vic's exhaustion and hopelessness, he struggles to stand as I help him out of the car. His legs wobble until he falls into my arms, a shivering mess. He's soaking wet, it's cold and still pouring down rain, yet I think he's shaking for other reasons. There's a distant look on his pale face but at least he's no longer crying. I begin to worry that he's gone into shock. Maybe I should have taken him to the hospital after all.

I push aside my second guesses and put his arm around my shoulders, holding him up. I carry him inside our big empty house and Jenna trails in close behind us. I stop at the foot of the stairs for a moment to collect my thoughts and to formulate a plan. I turn to Jenna who looks as lost as I feel.

"I'm going to take him upstairs, get him dry and warm. You can go home if you want." I suggest, but truthfully I want her to stay. I don't want to do this alone.

"I'll go home and get changed. Then I'll pick up Tay and bring her back here, if that's okay?" she asks.

"Yeah, that's a good idea." I sigh, relieved that she's not abandoning me.

Her eyes drop to Vic and she stares at his solemn face for a while with utter heartbreak in her eyes, until she looks back at me.

"Do you need anything, Kells?" she asks, her tone sad and loving.

I decide to take advantage of her generosity so I have one less thing to worry about.

"Yeah, actually, can you and Tay go pick up Vic's car? And then maybe mine?" I ask hopefully.

I pull my keys out of my pocket then find Vic's in his pocket. I toss them to Jenna who catches them with ease. I readjust Vic's arm around my shoulder as he's beginning to get too heavy for me to hold him up.

"Of course, where's your car?" she asks me, looking a little confused.

Shame and embarrassment fills the pit of my stomach.

"At the strip club." I whisper softly.

She gives me a puzzled look which makes my cheeks heat up.

"It's a long and horrible story. I'll tell you some other time." I assure her.

She nods brushing it off,  then she kisses Vic's cheek before she turns back around and leaves.

I haul Vic up the stairs with difficulty then take him into our bedroom. I have to move quickly since he's shaking so much that I'm struggling to keep my grip on him. I go into the bathroom and sit him down on the tiled floor. I immediately turn on the shower stream to try and create some warmth in the room.

Completely flustered, I kneel down in front of Vic and look him over, desperate to gauge where his head is at. He stares down at the floor with hopeless eyes, bordered by dark circles.

I put my arms around him and kiss his cheek, hoping to give him some sort of comfort. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do.

"I love you," I remind him softly, praying that my love could somehow make this all better.

He doesn't respond. I don't even know if he heard me.

"We're going to get you showered and get you warm, okay?" I explain. "Then you can get some rest, or we can talk, or we can not talk at all. Whatever you need."

He nods, acknowledging my existence for the first time since I talked him off that bridge. I reach for his shirt to undress him but he grabs my wrist, stopping me. 

"What's wrong?" I ask him softly, staring into his eyes, thinking I can somehow work it out through his expression. But he just looks scared.

He releases my arm from his grip and puts his head in his hands. I wait patiently for him to compose himself, not wanting to push him too hard. He soon looks back up at me tearfully, then he takes the hem of his shirt and pulls it up over his head.

I let out an audible gasp as I realize why Vic was so hesitant to get undressed. Where his scars used to lay, distantly forgotten about, fresh and healing cuts now remain. I haven't seen self-inflicted lacerations on his arms since we were teenagers. Over a decade and he didn't break his promise to me once, until now.

"Oh baby," I whisper, gently taking his hand so I can examine the extent of the damage to his wrists. I immediately notice a white gauze peeling from his arm and under is a violently livid wound.

I want to know what happened, I want to understand why he's resorted to this. But he's in such a vulnerable state right now, I don't want to escalate that.

I carefully place his arm back down and pull his head to my chest, holding him tightly. He begins to sob again so I gently rub his back and kiss his forehead.

"It's okay, Vic. You're okay." I coo. "We're going to make this better."

I hold him as he cries until he loses his voice and can't cry anymore. I gently kiss his cheek as I unravel my arms from around him but he seems distant again, like he doesn't even know I'm here.

It takes a while to coax him into helping me take his pants off because he's so unresponsive, but when I finally get him moving, I bring him into the shower under the warm stream. I place him down gently and he rests his head against the shower wall, seeming completely out of it.

I get undressed then join him in the shower, kneeling down next to him. I was expecting him to stop shaking the minute the hot water warmed his skin but it didn't seem to do the trick. I'm beyond worried and completely in over my head.

"Vic," I say softly, moving some hair from his cheek. "Do you want to go to the hospital?"

My words seem to alarm him as he looks to me tearfully and shakes his head.

"No, please, no." he rasps.

"Okay, okay." I reassure him. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

I take a washcloth and pat down his tear-stained cheeks. Then I take his arm and peel the remainder of the gauze off his wound. I bring the oozy cut under the shower stream, making Vic hiss in pain.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"No, I'm sorry." he whispers back, looking down in shame.

I pull him back into my arms and kiss his temple.

"You don't have to be sorry about anything, okay?"

"I really fucked up." he croaks.

"It's okay, Vic. The only thing that matters is that you're safe." 

"You should have let me jump." he chokes out, shaking his head.

His words shatter me and tears blur my vision once again.

"Don't say that. Please, don't say that. I don't know what I would have done if I lost you." I whisper.

"I don't want to be here anymore, Kellin. I can't. I can't do this." he sobs, painfully.

I wish I knew what to say, what to do in this type of situation but everything seems to have escalated so fast. Just last night, Vic was cooking dinner and everything seemed so normal. Meanwhile he had cuts on his arms, and hours later he was writing suicide notes. Things seem to have gone so wrong so fast.

But given the look of his healing wounds and the extent of his distress, I think this has been a gradual build up that he's been battling alone. For how long, who knows? He slipped right through my fingertips and I didn't notice it happening. How did I not notice?

"Vic, hey," I say firmly, taking his face and forcing him to look at me. "You can do this. Some small part of you must believe that. You stepped off that bridge, Vic. You chose to live. I know it's hard to see right now, but you're going to be okay."

I don't know if that's true, I don't know if anything is ever going to be okay again, but I have no choice but to have hope.

Vic's sobs settle and he sniffs as he nods, then he rests his head back against my chest. He closes his eyes and lets me hold him. 

I take a moment to appreciate that I have him here with me right now. I just nearly lost him forever. I would never have been able to hold him again, or kiss him again, or tell him how much I love him.

I'm desperate to know how he got to the point of wanting to take his own life, because as guilty as I feel for leaving him, that couldn't have caused all this. But I need to wait until he's more stable to even ask, and that's clearly not going to be tonight.

"You look exhausted." I sigh, noting the dark circles that have encompassed his eyes for the last few months. They seem deeper and darker than ever right now. "Do you want to go to bed?"

He nods softly so I stand and shut the shower off. I grab a towel, tying it around my waist. Then I go back over to Vic who is shakily standing up. I wrap a towel around him and lead him back into our bedroom and carefully sit him down on the end of the bed. I grab him a pair of underwear and go into the bathroom to get the first aid kit. I bring it back to Vic and kneel down in front of him. 

"Okay, I'm just going to clean these up then you can get some sleep, yeah?"

He doesn't respond, he's just staring wistfully ahead, as though he can't hear me again. I take one of his arms and lay it out flat on his knee. I clean each and every cut as delicately as possible, then I wrap his arm in a bandage, much like Vic did for me over a year ago. I look to his other arm and examine the cut that sticks out most, the one with protruding surgical stitches.

"Vic, baby," I say softly. He glances at me but quickly looks away. "What happened here?" 

I gently dab the gash and he hisses in pain. 

"It was an accident." he sniffs. 

That seems to be all the information I'm getting out of him so I just nod and continue with what I was doing. I clean and gauze his arm then bandage it up. Vic silently winces at the pain but doesn't make any complaints. 

When I'm satisfied that he's not going to get an infection or tear his stitches open in his sleep, I pull back the covers and instruct him to get into bed. His head meets the pillow with a soft sigh of relief.

I slide in next to him and wrap my arms around his still-shaking body. I gently rub his back, desperate to make him feel at least a little better. I wish I knew if it was working.

He stays silent though, just sniffing every now and then until eventually he stops shivering, letting me know that he's finally fallen asleep. I take a moment to be thankful for his temporary peace and hope to god he wakes up feeling better.

I make the difficult decision to leave his side. I get dressed into some dry clothes and head downstairs. I hear quiet conversation coming from the living room so I head in there and find Jenna and Tay talking to each other on the sofa. Jenna's clearly been crying and I assume Tay has been attempting to console her.

"Hey," Jenna says softly, lifting her head off Tay's shoulder to look at me. "How is he?"

I shrug hopelessly. "He's asleep."

I slump down in the armchair and look to the ceiling, taking a moment to catch my breath and let my emotions catch up with me.

"How are you?" Jenna asks.

I let out a tearful laugh. The question seems silly. It doesn't matter how I'm feeling right now. Vic just nearly died. How I'm feeling doesn't fucking matter in the slightest. But I answer her anyway.

"I could really use a drink right now." I mumble.

She frowns. "How about a hug instead?"

I force a smile and nod. She unravels herself from Tay then plants herself in my lap. She pulls my head to her chest and I let myself quietly cry into her shirt.

"I should never have left, Jen." I whisper regretfully. "He begged me to stay. I should have listened to him."

"You had no way of knowing this would happen." she says firmly. "This isn't your fault."

"You don't know that." I sniff. "I probably pushed him to this."

I wipe my cheeks down and take Vic's note out of my pocket then hand it to her. She frowns as she unfolds it and reads.

"He thinks he's a burden to me. I've made him feel like he is undeserving of my love." I choke out. "What kind husband—no, what kind of person does that make me?

She folds back up the letter and shakes her head. "No, Kells. How many times have you heard Vic say he doesn't deserve you? These aren't new feelings. This isn't something you've done." 

I think about her words, like really think about them. I consider every admittance of guilt that has left Vic's lips, every unnecessary 'I'm sorry', every glance of shame, every rueful look. I think back to our wedding night, when he told me that he never thought he was good enough for me. I remember that night on his rooftop when we were fifteen and he apologized for ruining my night, even though I now consider it one of my favorite memories. I contemplate the displaced blame he held onto after Carter raped me. I think about the ten years we spent together, yet apart, so painfully in love, and he didn't make a move, because he didn't think I would want him. 

This self-doubt, self-punishment, self-hatred has been following him around his whole life. I always just brushed it off, reassured him and moved on, but it's been gradually snowballing this entire time. And now he doesn't think he deserves to live.

"He's sick, Jen." I sigh in realization. "Not just now but since he was a teenager. It's the depression. He never got better, he just got better at managing it. And now he can't manage it anymore."

She nods, thinking it over. 

"He never saw a therapist or anything after he was diagnosed, did he?" she asks.

I shake my head. "As far as I know, he refused to. But I don't know. He's never really spoken about it. He's mentioned his depression like once or twice in the last ten years. I guess that's why I just assumed it wasn't a problem anymore."

"You know, with everything that happened with Carter and then his uncle passing, it's no wonder he's spiralling." she sighs.

"How could I not notice, Jen?" I croak, feeling ashamed of myself. "It all seems so obvious now. How did I miss it?"

"Kell, you have been dealing with so much lately and he has been hiding it all so well. This isn't your fault. You couldn't have known." she reassures me.

"But I should have been here!" I snap. "I've been working so much and he's been alone. And last night..."

I choke back my tears and swallow my shame.

"I found those notes last night when I got home. I was too drunk to know what they were, too drunk to care. While I was out drinking, my husband was here writing fucking suicide notes. I should have been here for him, Jen."

She shushes me as I begin to cry again and takes my face in her hands. I can barely look at her. I feel so stupid.

"You're here now, Kellin." she stresses. "He is alive, he is safe, and he is going to be okay. He got through this once before, he'll get through it again. You need to be strong for him, so whatever guilt is going to hold you down, you need to let it go, for his sake."

I take a deep breath and nod, lifting my head from her chest.

"What should I do?" I ask completely overwhelmed.

She climbs off my lap and sits back down next to Tay who pulls her into her arms. I want nothing more than to be in my partner's arms right now. But I think I'm going to need to be the one holding him for a while.

"I think you should talk to him, try to understand where his head is at and what's going on. Then I think you should take him to a doctor, even if he doesn't want to go. He needs professional help, Kells." Jenna explains.

I nod, wiping some more tears from my face. I don't know if I'll ever stop crying. I just want him to feel okay. When he's hurting, I'm hurting.

"I'm going to take some time off work. I need to be here for him." I decide. The thought makes me anxious. I don't know if we can afford it but I'm not risking my husband's life for my job.

"Okay, if you need anything, groceries or help with the bills, we're here for you." Jenna assures me.

I thank her softly and rub my tired eyes.

"I should probably get back to him. You two should go home. Thanks for everything." 

I stand up and stretch. My body untenses for the first time all day, and I'm hit with a wave of physical and emotional exhaustion. 

"Alright, but you better text me. Keep me updated, let me know if you need help with anything." Jenna says, once again pulling me into her arms. "He's going to be okay."

I nod as she lets go of me, but I'm not sure if I believe her. I don't even think she believes herself. Everything just feels so bleak right now. What if he can't get through this? What if he tries to hurt himself again? What if I lose him? What if he loses himself?

I haven't felt despair like this in so long and I fear that it's going to linger forever. There's not a drop of hope left in this household, and hope is exactly what we need right now.

--

Ahh sorry for the wait, what even the fuck is time?

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