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I thought he was doing better.
We all did.
But, it turns out that he’s only been getting worse.
Every time I see him, I want to fucking cry because the pain he’s swallowing is painted so clearly across his face, whether he’s trying to hide it or not. The anguish, and desperation, and mere hopelessness is corroding his entire soul; his being — and it’s radiating off of him like a boomerang.
Piercing me right in the heart, leaving me with a metaphorical stab wound, blood gushing and spattering, uncontrollably.
Every day that I come face to face with him, my fear intensifies because I don’t know when the day will come — the dreaded moment — the time when it all comes plummeting down.
Something’s gotta give at some point, and the horrible truth is that I feel that climax approaching a little more with each passing second.
The unknowns are scary.
The powerlessness I’m chained by as a friend watching someone you’re so close with slowly — now, rapidly — destroy himself piece by piece is terrifying.
There’s nothing I can do about it — nothing I can say or do to make him change his ways.
I’ve tried.
We’ve all tried.
And I refuse to stop trying, even though the odds are very much not in anyone’s favor.
I can’t give up on him, no matter how dark everything seems. And that’s because family doesn’t give up on each other.
He’s a brother to me.
He’s always been.
Brothers don’t leave when things get rough or feel impossibly difficult. They stay, and they continue offering support and love and compassion…
No matter what.
Tears are running down my face as these thoughts invade me, but this is normal. This situation has become normal for the four of us, after all of the years we’ve witnessed the deterioration…
That doesn’t take the pain away, though.
Because no matter how long I’ve dealt with it, the fear never leaves.
The love and adoration I’ve held for Cec never faltered, and it won’t.
If anything, it’s only grown stronger.
If there was a way for me to flip a switch and make all of the pain go away, I would. I’d do it for him, just to alleviate his suffering, but I can’t.
And it’s a real damn shame that I can’t.
In fact, it’s cruel.
Sometimes life feels inhumane and unfair, which is exactly how being in this situation is like.
Being forced to watch someone you love with your entire heart and soul kill himself without being able to do anything about it is by far, one of the worst places to be in.
I’d never wish this upon any-one.
And I know CC wouldn’t either.
~*~
“He looks like a fucking junkie , Bob,” I murmur with dread as I let the horrible reality of CC’s deterioration sink in at full capacity, as if I haven’t already succumbed to the unfortunate and terrorizing prophecy.
The bassist only sighs, but despite the lack of vocalization, it’s clear as day that the guy shares the same doomful feelings as I do.
It’s written all over his face — the way his brows are furrowed in sadness, and his lips turned downward into a pained grimace. His expression is all knowing… he doesn’t have to say a damn word to let me know how he feels.
He’s just as scared as I am.
“This is how I saw him back in those days,” I remark dryly as my stomach gnaws with intense perturbation, “you know…”
My voice trails off while the dark memories of the past start eating away at me. The worst part of this whole thing is how eerily similar it all feels. Almost as if the past really isn’t that distant.
Twenty something years may have gone by since those days of CC’s blow and booze induced self-destruction, which left me dreading the day that I was sure I’d find him dead in a ditch somewhere.
Twenty something years have passed, but now all of this time later, I’m reliving the same scenario.
We all are.
All four of us.
Whether the rest of the band wants to express it or not, whether they want to acknowledge the elephant in the room… doesn’t matter.
It’s there.
We’re swimming in the gunk of this horrid, scary time.
Bobby sighs again, but this time his mouth does move, and I can’t help but hope with my heart and soul that he’s able to conjure up some kind of wisdom — some kind of comforting affirmation — something.
At the same time, I’m smart enough to know that nothing can truly bring peace to what we’re living right now.
I can’t continue trying to trick myself into believing that some miracle will grace us.
“Yeah,” the bassist says, nearly emotionless, “It’s the same.”
The monotone demeanor only intensifies my inner turmoil but I hold back from emotionally exploding all over. I’m sure Bob’s dissociative response may simply be how he’s coping with the issue…
Or maybe he really doesn’t have anything else to say.
Maybe he’s gotten so used to this that he’s almost desensitized from it all.
Sometimes it’s a hell of a lot easier to numb out than allow yourself to feel everything that terrifies you. Sometimes it’s easier to joke it off, let it brush off your shoulder like it doesn’t matter. Sometimes expressing anger and irritation is more bearable than drowning in the true emotions that are suffocating you.
Everyone’s got different ways of dealing with pain…
But underneath every single one of those masks are the real, vulnerable, horrible demons.
The ones that none of us can truly run from.
Demons like this one.
~*~
It’s an hour before a show when I notice how sick CC looks.
It’s also when I contemplate on canceling our gig or not because of it.
He’s been in the bathroom for a very long time, longer than normal, and typically I wouldn’t be hung up on such a minute part of daily life but with everything that’s been going on with CC, I can’t help but feel a pit of dread growing in the center of my core.
A gnawing, sickening hollow.
From the moment I locked eyes on him today, and saw how eerily pale he was and how exhausted he looked, I’ve been a nervous wreck.
I ask myself how he’s still able to function every day with what he’s doing to himself — how he hasn’t dropped dead from this self-inflicted starvation he’s forcing upon his body and soul. This excruciating torment he’s causing…
I’m scared.
I’m scared because I’ve hardly seen him today besides for a few quick exchanges, and I’m even more worried because he won’t get his ass out of the damn bathroom.
The first thought that pops up is the fear that he collapsed in there, but that’s just automatic.
At this point, only the worst case scenarios creep to the surface.
Part of me wants to scream, knock on the door to ask if he's okay, or crack some kind of sarcastic quip but the other half doesn’t.
The other half is terrified to try.
So, I don’t.
I continue standing, frozen, in the venue’s backstage area while my mind’s horrors play persistently on a loop — never ending — and the trepid churns of my stomach intensify.
It feels like a fucking eternity goes by before the bathroom door opens, and out comes Cec…
And… fuck … I wish I didn’t have to look at him.
There are no words that I can use that would accurately depict the terrorizing visual in front of me right now. Absolutely none.
No word or descriptor could possibly graze the surface.
Besides the embodiment of mortality.
Death.
And it’s not like I didn’t notice this before, but the translucent factor of his skin tone… it’s worse than earlier.
It’s concerningly pallid.
He looks like Hell, and that’s a goddamn understatement.
I don’t have to look at him for a split second to come to the conclusion that something is seriously wrong.
Something bad.
That realization alone induces a wave of nausea emulating in the center of my hollowed stomach, and all I want to do is ask him what’s wrong… if he’s okay… why he took so long in the damn bathroom…
But I can’t.
The words are evading me right now.
All I’m able to do is look at him, practically swaying back and forth, with eyes dazed and unfocused, hands shaking, as I stand paralyzed in horror.
Because I know one thing right now.
Something’s gotta give, and I’m in no way prepared for it to happen.
Not now.
~*~
It all happens so fast.
The collapse.
Within a second, it all happens at once — CC’s frail, depleted body comes out of the bathroom, only to sway back and forth while I begin calling his name out of mere worry, until he eventually falls towards the ground… unresponsive.
That’s when my muscles work again, and as my heart feels like it skips a thousand beats, I catch him before he cracks his fucking head.
It shouldn’t be this easy to carry him.
He shouldn’t be so light.
There’s nothing left…
“Cec?”
“ Fuck! Cec?!”
“Dammit, don’t do this to me… don’t do this to me… don’t do this to me!!!!”
The same frantic pleas fly out of my mouth as I embrace the half-conscious guitarist on the grungy floor, while abruptly getting the closest person nearby to call an ambulance.
~*~
I stay by his side on the ride to the hospital.
CC is curled up, and barely conscious, on the gurney, and the tears welling in my eyes just can’t be controlled.
Neither can the desperation bleeding out of my heart and soul — the desperation and pleas to let my friend be okay.
I’m with him because I can’t leave him. I couldn’t let him take this ride alone, and I need to be close to him… I need to know that he’s with me, and I want him to know that he’s not alone.
Despite how isolating and scary this may feel for him, he’s not alone.
Hospitals are fucking terrifying.
He shouldn’t have to go through this without me.
So, I stay and hold his freezing cold hand, as he lies limp on the stretcher, with his body shivering under the multiple layers he’s wearing.
The lack of meat on his body provides no insulation… That, I know.
It’s just another stab in the fucking chest.
“I got you, Cec,” I croak and squeeze his hand tighter, while using my other to run through his blonde tresses, “Just try to stay awake, alright? Try to keep your eyes open…”
Try… for me… Cec, please… I’m begging you! And I don’t beg for anything in life but this is worth begging for… I need you… I fucking NEED you…
All I earn in response is a tired, incoherent groan from him, but just the fact that I receive something brings me the slightest bit of alleviation — solace.
“‘M freezing…. Bret….”
It’s the moment when I register his slurred, exhausted voice that a tear actually falls from my eye.
I squeeze his hand tighter.
“You have no insulation,” I reply with a slight crack in my tone, but I hastily try to compose myself for his sake, “Your body doesn’t have enough fat to warm itself up…”
There is no answer from Cec after that.
Instead, I get another muffled groan as I watch the enervated guitarist close his eyes and sink into the stretcher more.
Clearly, there is no energy left in him to do anything.
So, with a heartbroken sigh, I stay silent.
I let him rest.
~*~
The emergency room is the farthest from comforting.
With the disorganized non-stop rush of nurses, doctors, receptionists, and other staff along with the piercing beeping of various machines, random bouts of screaming, and urgent commands over the intercom, it’s a reminder.
It’s a bleak indentation of proof.
It brings nothing but relentless bursts of agitation within me, being in this chaotic environment, but I stay anyway.
I refuse to leave Cec in the disoriented state that he’s in, alone.
Crammed in the middle of the crowded emergency room, plopped down on the same stretcher the ambulance brought him in, now with an IV administering fluids through his depleted veins.
He’s here.
He’s alive.
And he’s getting the help he needs.
That’s what I have to repeat on a loop to myself because without that reminder, there’s no way I’d survive right now.
There’s no way I’d be sitting here, in a chair, hovering over him without breaking down.
The tears are welling but they haven’t fallen, and as I squeeze his hand with all my might and whisper gentle, hopefully calming, words my heart grows heavier.
And heavier.
And heavier.
This is my friend who I’m leaning over, my friend who’s breaking his entire body and soul apart — my friend who I hardly recognize as the guy I first met years ago…
My friend who is dying.
The reiterated reminder immediately causes my breathing to hitch, and on impulse I squeeze CC’s hand tighter, if that’s at all possible.
Tight enough to be able to solidify all the love and respect and adoration that I hold for him, and always will hold for him.
In a blink of the eye, I watch CC’s own orbs slowly open and as he lands his discombobulated gaze on mine, he slowly begins to croak, in a raw, fatigued, raspy whisper.
“I fucked up again… I know.”
“No,” I gently rebuttal and shake my head, intensifying the hand squeeze once more, now with tears dangerously close to pouring out of my eyes, “It’s not your fault.”
CC releases a tired sigh, only to curl up more into his heartbreaking little cocoon on the stretcher.
I sigh, as well, and run my free hand through his hair.
“You’ll be alright,” I reassure, even though there’s a heavy weight on my chest that signifies lack of.
You better be or else I’ll kick your goddamn ass.
Just as that thought runs through my head, I register a soft sniffle, and it’s the moment I let my gaze fall on CC again when I realize he’s crying.
He hardly cries.
My stomach drops at the devastating sight before me, and I can’t even say anything in response because CC starts shaking his head before I’m able to.
“I can’t do this any-more,” he laments through the tears, as his face scrunches up in agony, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me—“
“ Nothing,” I adamantly reply with a furrowed gaze, “There’s nothing wrong with you, Cec. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t ask for this to happen—“
I’m quickly cut off.
“I’m the one who’s destroying myself, Bret.”
CC sniffles again, and now I’m crying. I can’t hold it in any-more….
And that’s because he’s right.
The destruction is self-inflicted and that’s a painful, horrible, agonizing reality.
And he’s being blunt about it…
Even in the state that he’s in, those voices… those demons… they’re spewing from his lips.
“Cec,” I choke out with a hitched breath, while shaking my head, “You don’t deserve what you’re putting yourself through…”
“Oh, I do…” he replies, voice raw and dry, “I’m fucked up, Bret… and I always will be.”
I shake my head adamantly as my own protective defenses shoot up for him.
“You’ve done some screwed up things, but that doesn’t mean you’re screwed up… We’re human… We do shitty things sometimes. Hell, I’m full of them myself, Cec!”
I continue shaking my head and trying to rationalize, while tears fall down my face, but CC isn’t letting any of it sink in.
He’s only withdrawing more, and more, and more, as his adamance intensifies by the second. And I can’t help but wonder how he has the energy to fight like this in the state that he’s in.
With the miniscule remnants of drive he has left inside, he’s self-loathing.
That hurts.
There is a brief moment of silence amongst both of us, negating the various chatter and unnerving beeping sounds around the hospital, until Cec breaks it with an enervated inhale.
The subtle signal of life sends a chill up my spine and on an impulse, I squeeze the guitarist’s hand tighter because in the back of my head I have this perturbed fear — that if I let go or even loosen my grip, I’ll lose him.
Just the thought of letting go makes me feel sick.
I can’t.
It takes everything in my power to suppress the waterfall of tears that are threatening to pour out of my eyes. Yes, I know I’m already crying but I’m close to having a full breakdown, and I can’t do that right now… I need to be here for Cec. I gotta be strong for him.
I can drown in my tears when I’m alone.
Not right now.
“I’m tired, Bret,” the blonde whispers, barely audible, pulling me from my anguish for just a second, “I’m friggin’ burnt…”
“I know,” I whisper back, melancholic, as I try to contain myself which seems nearly impossible at this point, “Just hold on for me, alright?”
Please… that’s all I’m asking of you, Cec… Nothing more… nothing less… I just need you to stay with me and hold on…
Despite doing everything in my power to hold back from cracking again, I just can’t help it. The inner desperation shooting through my head sends my breath hitching and along with that comes a new collection of tears…
“Fuck Cec…”
I choke his name out with heartbreak as I frantically shake my head, desperately wishing I could will the tears away, but it’s to no avail.
I squeeze him tighter.
“You gotta let someone help you… anyone… Let someone in—“
“I can’t…”
My heart skips what feels like a thousand beats as that hopeless sounding reply from CC registers through my eardrums. I could swear every single hair on my body is sticking up now.
My stomach is dropping.
“I know it feels like you can’t,” I manage to respond with a pained grimace and furrowed brows, even though my throat is closing up on me, “I know it’s gotta be so hard, but you gotta do something about this. I know you can—“
CC’s dazed head shake stops my pleading short, and the look in his empty, exhausted eyes is equivalent to getting punched in the gut.
“Ya don’t get it, Bret…” he weakly protests, voice croaky and raspy, as he shuts his eyes again, “This is all I got… even if it’s miserable… ”
He lets his head fall to the side of the pillow away from me before letting out a muffled sigh.
“It’s what I deserve … for bein’—“
“Cec, please !” I cry in retort, as every single fiber in my body breaks apart into a thousand heartbroken pieces, ‘cause I already know what he wants to say and I don’t want to hear it.
How he feels about himself — the way he loathes his very existence — it’s unbearable to witness it.
He doesn’t deserve a goddamn thing he’s doing to himself and yet he’s so convinced that it’s all he does… so is that why he can’t stop?
Fuck, I don’t know if I want the answer.
I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it.
“Don’t go there,” I beg with compassion through the eternal gut-wrenching sensations blanketing me, “Not now, Cec…”
Not ever… is also what I’d like to say but I bite my tongue.
I shake my head and close my eyes, letting a few stray tears drip down my cheeks and onto my shirt as I lean my head in closer to CC, who hasn’t moved from his turned away position on the pillow.
“I just care about you, alright…” I softly whisper into his neck as I run a gentle hand through his hair again, “that’s all… I love ya like a brother and it hurts like Hell to see you do this to yourself…”
CC stays completely silent while I continue pouring my whole heart and soul out, aiming to overflow the New Yorker’s cup with as much love, compassion, and adoration as I possibly can.
Because maybe, just maybe, one day he’ll be able to register it… absorb it.
Even if it’s not today… right now.
“Cec…” I choke out his name in a slightly stronger tone, “Do you remember when Raine was born? And I called you up like a madman, telling you to get your ass to the hospital because my wife was having the baby?”
A light, nostalgic laugh slips from my lips at the memory, sending heartfelt tingles up the length of my spine. But the glimmer of happiness is short lived, as the initial somber feelings weigh down on me almost as fast as the chuckle slips out.
I pause and let out a heavy sigh before continuing with the story.
“Remember you actually ran to the hospital from your house? Literally ran. You didn’t hop in your car to speed there… you ran, on your own two feet and got there faster than it would have taken me to call you again.”
Another titter slips out at the distant recollection, but the darker side of everything refuses to falter… especially with a memory directly connected to running.
I do my best to shake that pit of discomfort aside by allowing my lips to form into a small, sentimental grin as powerful chills continue to shoot through my body.
“I’ll never forget your determination in that moment, Cec… the second I met your sweaty ass body in the hospital and discovered that you didn’t waste any time in getting to me when I needed you… I can’t even describe the feeling… the gratitude I had and will always have for you.”
My train of thought is halted by the beginning of a lump forming in my throat, and that in itself makes my heart skip a few beats. That and the fact that CC hasn’t said one word since I began reminiscing to him.
Not a single word.
Silence.
In fact, he hasn’t moved a muscle from his supine position on the gurney, and truthfully I have no idea if he’s listening to a thing I’m saying right now, or if he even cares… but I still need to let him know how I feel…
Even if he doesn’t believe it himself.
The doomful silence eats away at me as I breathe out with another heavy sigh.
“Cec, the reason why I’m telling you all of this is because… well… you showed up for me that day in an instant with a heart of gold. That’s what a genuine friend does, and all of that adoration that you held for me in that moment is what I hold for you. And just like you were there for me, I want to be here for you, and I’ll do anything you need me to. As a friend, I’m here , and I care. No matter how much you say you wish I wasn’t, I am. And I won’t ever stop being here for you.”
No matter what you say or do about it is up to you…
With that last inner thought solidifying my feeling deep within, I squeeze Cec’s hand one last time, almost silently begging for some kind of reaction. At this point I’ll take anything. Even just a finger twitch.
What I receive in return is a lot more than what I ever could have bargained for. In fact, it’s not even close to what I would have imagined.
“I’m sorry, Bret.”
Those three words — just three little words — those whispers , those weak croaks… they’re shattering me; breaking my heart and soul into endless tiny shambles, creating an impossible to clean mess all over this damned hospital floor.
“ Don’t apologize,” is all I’m able to force out in one breath, because if I say or do any more, I know for a fact I’ll choke on my own voice. The tears will come crashing down all over again and I won’t be able to express all that I need to.
I shake my head sadly as I watch Cec finally move his gaze back towards me, and it shakes me to the core to see the glassy demeanor in his own two eyes.
All I want to do is embrace him, protect him from all of the horrendous tricks his mind is playing on him, and I want to keep him safe from what he’s experiencing… I want to take all his pain away, but it’s not possible.
It’s a damn shame that humans aren’t all mighty beings — that we can’t claim power over others’ suffering.
“You don’t owe me any apology,” I reiterate softly, while letting out a gentle exhale, “You owe yourself one.”