Damn! I can’t get in touch with B.
This morning was dreadful…there was something in his eyes that didn’t sit well with me. He is highly agitated, withdrawn, not making eye contact, and acting “off” to say the least.
No matter his mood, I have to work, even if my gut instinct is to call out to “watch” him.
I have talked to him only once since getting to work and he is beyond cocky and arrogant… not to mention that his tone of voice lacks love and compassion.
My day progresses and I have not recieved any calls from him. FUCK. Every time I try to call him, his phone goes directly to voice-mail. What should I do?? I can tell in my gut, the rancid taste of anxiety in my throat, that something is not right.
I am now freaking the fuck out.
I still have another hour of work and I simply cannot leave.
I call the roommate of B’s sister since she lives in the same apartment complex, and I ask her to please check to see if his car is there, and if so, to please go knock on the door to make sure he is ok.
Everyday it feels like I am trying to keep this wild, crazy man alive. It is so taxing on me that I literally feel sick daily. I have lost a tremendous amount of weight… from 110lbs to 86lbs which is absolutely frightening. I eat, but I get sick from stress and cannot hold food in. This is my life with B… constant stress and chaos.
She checks on him and calls me back.
– His car is there but he is not answering the door.-
Panic begins to set in… not simple anxiety, but panic. The panic that makes me sick and believe that I am going to pass out or die.
Work is over and I RACE home. I am so sick to my stomach that I contemplate pulling over to puke out all my nerves.
What am I going to find when I get home?? B overdosed?? Maybe he got his hands on a new gun (I have already gotten rid of the one he owned).
Oh my God, please don’t let me find him with his head blown off, blood all over the place.
Please be alive.
I walk through the door of our apartment… I am shaking uncontrollably at this point and convinced that he has finally succeeded at killing himself.
The apartment is dark and I fear turning on the lights. What is the fucking light going to reveal to me?
I contemplate calling the police.
Instead, I turn on the light and glance around the room. He isn’t in here, but the bedroom door is closed. That is where he is, probably dead.
I walk past the kitchen and noticed he had written on a piece of paper hanging on the wall that says, “I’m sorry. I love you all”.
My trembling increases and I am on the verge of throwing up. Then I notice a huge ass gun sitting on the island that divides the kitchen from the living area. I am somewhat relieved because if the gun is here, then obviously he didn’t use it.
Now I have to worry about an overdose.
I grab the doorknob to our bedroom and hold my breath. I peek inside and it is pitch black. No light is shining whatsoever. Darkness envelopes me.
I flip on the light and B is laying in bed. I can see his face and I take note of the puffiness under his eyes. He was probably crying all day… I have seen it happen before.
I go to him and see the rise and fall of his chest. Fuck yes! He is still alive!! All my fucking emotions come out and I run to the bathroom and puke up any ounce of food left in my stomach and then dry heaved for a hot minute.
I then wake B up. It is a bit difficult for him to come out of his sleep and he is not very alert. He definitely was high on something. He gets high on anything… muscle relaxers, pain pills, alcohol combined with any downer he can get his hands on. You name it, he will get high on it.
I start to cry, uncontrollable sobs. The type that takes the breath from your chest.
– I love you baby girl, I couldn’t do it. –
I punch him in the chest.
Sobbing ~ If you ever do that to me again B, you better be dead, or I will kill you myself. And by the way, that gun will not be here tomorrow. I am fucking disposing of it. ~
I punch him one more time for good measure and then I hear the cackle.
Fuckin’ B and his cackle will be the death of me.
© bipolarmuse 2012
** This is a little excerpt of my life that took place in the year 2000. The story is true to my memory and feelings in that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read… it truly means a-lot to me. **