Shattered
Vincent didn't know how he ever found himself in this situation, in this predicament.
About a month ago, the love of his life, Drake, who he had sacrificed everything for had severed all forms of contact with him. Vincent was being ignored, completely. Shut out of his lover's life, despite their great history together.
But the wolf's story, Vincent's story started spiraling downward long, long before. He grew up with a family that was never really much of a family at all. An over-aggressive mother who lived with so much anger, he could see her being consumed by it even more and more with every single passing day; a father who was indifferent to everyone and just looked for ways to make things simple on himself by avoiding everything. Then, a brother who thought it was convenient to have a little brother as a punching bag whenever he was upset or just needed something to do.
There's so much more to say, but no words could truly express all the negative emotions that he ever experienced throughout his journey with his family. Let's just put it this way, probably no one would consider it normal to take suicide completely seriously at the age of eight. Attempted before, but that's another story.
Vincent has always tried to be the best person he could; he never wanted to become like anyone else in his family. He worked to the best of his ability to prove to them that he wasn't just some worthless kid who always kept their head too high up in the clouds without actually taking action to achieve those dreams. Oh, he achieved so much, just to prove it to them; he didn't even think he could handle the weight on his shoulders.
His brother got the spotlight instead. Don't bother asking why, Vincent doesn't even know. Maybe it was because his brother was just like his parents.
Vincent saw no point in trying to explain it all to anyone anymore. It takes too long, too much effort, and he's simply just too tired to go through it all again. But basically, he was dirt to his family even though he was better than any of them, also as a person. He was abandoned by anyone he ever considered to be his family, and others died. Don't worry though, not trying to say he killed anyone.
But, oh, the blow that was delivered to him when he found out that the one he loved had another boyfriend had tore him up so badly inside that he thought he could never recover. His world turned into one of anger, hate, sorrow, and everything else possibly imaginable in the realm of darkness.
It got worse and worse and worse every day. He yelled and yelled and yelled at 'him' every day until his throat went hoarse. He was being consumed in his own hate, and he didn't realize it. He became everything he tried to avoid becoming.
Since Vincent had sacrificed everything for the one he loved - this included grades, social life, and even his own health - he was literally left with nothing.
After some time though, things started to look up for Vincent. Drake realized what he had done to Vincent and that it was Vincent who he loved more. Vincent was lifted out of reality and his world was perfect, even though so much was wrong.
However, for Vincent, nothing lasts very long. Drake found someone else again, telling Vincent that he just couldn't do it anymore, whatever "it" was.
Vincent's deep and heavy breaths were the only sounds in the dark, moon-lit room as his mind reflected back on all the negative in his life, causing his forehead to burn immensely and his heart to cry out in the deepest pain possible. Sitting in the middle of his room on a stool, he clenched his fists tightly as tears streamed down his cheeks and dripped down onto his lap. His jaw clenched tightly as well and he just glared at the corner with furrowed brows without blinking even once, as if anticipating something to jump out at him at his most vulnerable time.
Night time has always been the darkest time of Vincent's depression. It was the time when all the demons of his past and also his imagination came out to haunt him. He would spend hours sitting and facing his darkest nightmares, but in reality, he was staring at nothing. His mind simply just wandered too much and he was never careful as to where it went. The emptiness and misery, it caused Vincent so much agonizing pain that he had no idea how he survived it every day and every night.
"Fuck," breathed the wolf through gritted teeth as his heart began to feel like it was twisting itself up. Again.
Vincent reached into his pocket and quickly whipped out a bottle of anti-depressants to try and relieve some of the emotional pain which felt so heavy. He fumbled the cap and became frustrated with it, smashing it against the side of the stool before attempting to open it again. The cap twisted open and he quickly downed a few pills without bothering with water or even counting how many he took and then slipped the bottle back into his pocket.
This was a typical night for Vincent. The insecurity, the loneliness, the pain, it all kept slicing him up, he was completely helpless. Every single second was a conscious struggle just for him to make it to tomorrow, but not knowing what would happen the next day or even knowing how he'd feel. All that he knew though was that he had to fight for every breath he took due to fatigue from his lack of sleep.
Every night when he went to bed, he would lay awake for hours, tossing and turning to find the right position which was comfortable enough for him to forget everything except for the soft pillow and mattress. But, there was no such sanctuary under the thick blankets which he always trusted in to keep him safe from his demons. No, his forehead would still burn in deep, mad thought and reminiscence, trying to puzzle together what went wrong, why his life has always been just suffering.
Vincent shut his eyes and screamed as loud as he could, the pain in his chest becoming too much for him to handle. He quickly pulled out the bottle of anti-depressants from his pocket again, but this time he didn't open it. With a sudden jerk of his arm, the bottle shot across the room and hit the wall in front of him.
"You're fucking worthless, you piece of shit!" he screamed at the bottle, getting up from his stool and storming across the room until he was towering over it. "You said you could help! But no, you've done nothing! Absolutely nothing! Anti-depressant, my ass!"
What a pathetic sight it was. The adolescent wolf yelling at a small and inanimate object, blaming it for the way he was currently feeling. But his head was spinning and his mind completely deluded with negativity, so it made at least some bit of sense, did it not?
But then Vincent noticed something different. His surroundings became lit by the sun instead and instead of all the furniture in his room and the bare walls which menaced him, he was in school grounds during the day time. He spun himself around in all directions, panicking in complete disorientation from the change, even though he was familiar with every single detail of his surroundings. Vincent was in the middle of the school parking lot and many others were passing by, but staring at Vincent in his bewilderment.
"Hey, Vinny!" he heard a voice call out to him, and he froze, perking both ears up.
"What're you doing, man?" said the voice again, right behind him, so Vincent spun around to come face-to-face with a husky. "The buses are going to leave soon."
"Dr-Drake?" Vincent's jaw trembled a bit as he spoke and his paws touched the cheeks of the husky while staring deeply into his blue eyes.
Drake became a bit unsteady and chuckled nervously. "You alright, Vince?" The husky looked around anxiously for anyone who might've been staring at them.
Vincent didn't care, his husky was right in front of him and that's all that mattered. "You-You're talking to me?" he managed to ask, his flow of tears beginning to cease and a slight smile spreading across his face.
"Of course," Drake responded with a warm smile. "Why wouldn't I?"
"I thought..." Vincent paused for a second, still staring deeply into Drake's eyes, and then continued. "I thought that you were ignoring me. I thought that you never wanted to see or speak to me again."
Without paying any attention to those that were already watching them and realizing that the wolf and husky were both gay, Drake wrapped his arms tightly around Vincent and pulled them close together and said: "I told you that I'd never ignore you, that I'd never let go of you, that I'd never leave you." Then he leaned in and whispered in Vincent's ear before giving his a squeeze with his arms. "Remember, puppy?"
Vincent nodded quickly and licked affectionately at Drake's neck, whining quietly as he did. "I remember, Drake, I remember. I'll never forget. I won't."
"Good puppy," Drake whispered again and chuckled lightly as he nuzzled the top of Vincent's head.
Vincent had never been happier to see Drake again. His heart was fluttering and he was holding onto the husky so tightly, he never wanted to let him go. He felt like his whole emotional baggage and just lifted, and he had nothing to ever worry about again.
But like every other night, Drake disappeared in his arms, his surroundings became that of his dark room again, and he began to cry again.
"Fuck, Vincent," he groaned and tossed his head back. "Get a fucking grip on yourself!"
Vincent pressed his back up against the wall and then curled up on the floor, trying to hold himself together, but nothing could stop the pain that welled up inside him and the tears that kept on coming.
"Why do you let us know what it's like to fly, only to clip our wings?" Vincent slowly tilted his head up and stared at the ceiling. But God gave no reply.
"Answer me, you coward!" he screamed, but yet again, only silence followed.
"Figures," he spat and unconsciously began to growl.
All Vincent wanted was answers. He wanted to know why his life had only been granted temporary happiness in his pure suffering. His whole body felt like it was either going to explode or implode, but it was like this every night. He just wanted to know why. But answers never came.
He didn't care if things began to shape up; he didn't care if his situation got better. There have always been days when Vincent could walk tall and stick his chest out in pride and dignity, but depression takes away your will to maintain anything that made you yourself. One little thing could go wrong, like accidentally forgetting your textbook for school at home, and then your world comes crashing down again. You remember all of the shit that you've gone through and how nobody out there is looking out for you.
Sure, some people may notice it one day, but Vincent would always just say, "I'm tired," and fake a smile to not let any others worry about him, even though that's what he dearly wanted. He wanted people to notice that he was suffering and for them to help him. But he realized, what was the point? What could they do, even if they noticed? It's not like they could mend his relationship with his family, bring back those who left, especially Drake, or permanently purge his mind of everything that it was troubled by.
No, this was a battle that could only be fought by him alone, and he was sure that he was losing. And this, he was sure of. Vincent, in spite of only being a 16-year old wolf, he felt like he had lived for many, many decades; he was still young, but he felt old.
We all may think that an old spirit means that it has passed a heavenly test and is bound to go on for eternity and that weak spirits die off fast, but Vincent wasn't actually old. Also, what if the old spirits just had others there to help? What if the old spirits had it easier? What if the weak spirits were just as strong, but were just unlucky and had more weight on their shoulders?
It didn't matter though, because that fragility causes everything to fall apart so quickly no matter what. It wears you down and ravages you like the worst of all disasters.
"If I needed to go, would follow me to the ends of the Earth?" Vincent slowly whispered to himself. "If I fell... would you be there to catch me? Or just let me crash and burn?
Every second was just Vincent waiting for the next crack until he shatters.