Chapter 12: Breathe Me (past)

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TRIGGER WARNING: Some scenes in this chapter may contain sensitive material. Alcohol abuse and self-harm are some topics mentioned. If you feel uneasy, please feel free to stop reading immediately.

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ONE YEAR AGO


Ah, this sucks.

My whole body fucking ached. When I opened my eyes, I realized I was in a hospital room. I was hooked up and all that shit. I looked down on my body to check if I was still in one piece.

Yep, everything was still there.

I frowned, trying to remember what happened. I was drunk and crossing the street... then a car hit me.

Fuck, I got hit by a goddamn car.

That sure explained my sore body. I didn't have any crutches, though. That meant the impact wasn't that strong. Did that mean I could still play? Shit, Coach Saxon was gonna murder the fuck outta me.

Just how long was I out, anyway?

I looked around the room. It was quiet. Nobody else was here. There were no flowers, which meant there were no visitors.

Closing my eyes, I let out a deep breath. The corner of my lips turned up in a leer. I was alone, as always. What the hell was I expecting?

"Typical," I murmured to myself.

Why didn't the car just fucking kill me off? I doubted it would even matter to anyone. It didn't even matter that I was alive, much less dead.

"What's typical?"

My eyes snapped open and they landed on a girl carrying a pizza box on one hand and a Starbucks cup on the other. She looked like she was swallowed by her white parka. She was standing by the doorway, staring at me.

"What're you doing here?" I asked, but my voice was raspy. I needed water. I looked around the room for one.

She sighed. "Nothing better to brighten my day than going to the hospital because it's such a cheery place."

Finally, I spotted the glass of water on the side table. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Arisa place the pizza box and coffee cup on the nearby table. She removed her parka before coming over to me. She reached for the glass from the bedside table and helped me drink.

When I was done, she placed it back to where it was and walked out of the room. This time when she came back, a nurse and a doctor accompanied her.

"Good afternoon, Mr. O'neal," the doctor said, stepping closer to me. "I'm Doctor Lim. How are you feeling?"

"Never better."

He helped me sit up. Then, he did that flashlight shit on me. I winced and whipped my head away. Not because it hurt, but more because it reminded me of those headlights before a car hit me.

I knew I'd get over it. But right now, the memory was still fresh.

"I'm sorry," he said, sounding like he meant it as he put the small flashlight away. "Are you feeling any pains in your body?"

"Just a little sore." I frowned. "How long was I out?"

"Two days," he answered, as he took quick notes on my chart. When he was done, he looked up at me. "You should count yourself very lucky. The driver hit the brakes early enough to slow down and lessen the impact, but it still hit you hard enough to knock you out."

I figured as much.

"No broken bones?"

I knew what broken bones felt like. Hell, I played football. It was like a rite of passage. But I still had to make sure.

Doctor Lim shook his head. "No broken bones. No concussions. However, I do advise you to take a week's rest from doing any strenuous activities."

I nodded. "Got it."

"Mr. O'neal, there's another thing." He hesitated. "The percentage of alcohol in your system when you were admitted was alarmingly high. You were one bottle away from alcohol poisoning."

I looked away, my jaw clenching tight.

"If you need help in any way, there are people—"

"I'm fine," I clipped out.

Doctor Lim looked like he wanted to say more, but he probably saw on my face that I was done talking about it. He only sighed and nodded.

"One last thing, you are advised to stay here for another twenty-four hours so we could monitor your health. It's just to make sure everything's fine, before we let you out into the world again."

I stared at him. "But it's optional?"

"Yes."

"Great. I'd rather be discharged tomorrow."

"No, he doesn't," Arisa deadpanned.

I looked at her with a sneer, cocking my head to the side. She was wearing a white turtleneck today, with her wavy brown hair framing her face. She looked like an angry Bambi.

"Sorry, are you my mother?"

She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, meeting my stare head on. "Might as well be, since you're acting like an unsupervised child."

I scoffed. "The fuck did you just say?"

"Oh, sorry." She turned to Doctor Lim. "He didn't get his hearing damaged, did he?"

"I'll... leave you two alone," Doctor Lim said, looking uneasy as he turned around with the nurse. "I'll check up on you again later, Mr. O'neal."


"Why the hell are you even here?" I demanded, as soon as Arisa and I were alone in the room.

She wasted no time going off on me. "Obviously, to look after a manchild who seems hellbent on throwing his life away to the point that he not only put himself in danger, he put others' lives at risk, too."

She glared at me, looking like she wanted to strangle the fuck outta me. I'd never seen her angrier.

"The mother and her two-year-old daughter are safe, by the way," she added. "Byron took care of the damages, so you don't have to worry about anything." Her tone dripped in sarcasm, making me sound like an ungrateful child.

"Mother? Baby?" Shit, I was still disoriented.

"The mother was the driver while her toddler was in the backseat."

Fucking hell.

Goddamn it, Alfie.

"They're safe?" I asked quietly.

"Yes."

I released a sigh of relief.

"What's going on with you?" Arisa asked.

"Nothing."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Yeah, of course. It's totally nothing that you've been drinking nonstop since Monday. It's no big deal. You're only on the verge of alcohol poisoning..."

I stopped listening then.

An unwanted memory popped into my head. My former fraternity brothers were in a circle, shouting encouragement at someone. I was one of the guys cheering, egging that someone on.

"You don't know what I'm going through," I muttered.

"Then, tell me."

"What are you, my fucking shrink?"

"No, I'm someone who gives a shit enough to ask."

I snorted, looking away.

"Alfie, I'm your friend. Treat me like one."

I faced her again. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You know what I mean," she shot back. "You act like everything here is temporary, like we are temporary. It's like you don't wanna get too attached to anyone or anything here."

"That's bullshit."

"Is it?" she questioned, tilting her head.

I shook my head, refusing to believe this. I couldn't tell her that this was about what happened two years ago, the reason why I didn't wanna get too close with anyone anymore. I moved here to start a new life, taking the lessons I learned with me.

But someone didn't want me to fucking move on.

"Is this about what happened in Florida?" Arisa guessed, anyway. It was all over the news, after all.

I remained quiet.

"That wasn't your fault," she said, softly now.

I let out a humorless laugh. "Then, why the fuck do I feel like I don't deserve to live?"

Arisa frowned in confusion. "So what, you were trying to kill yourself this past week?"

I leaned forward and rested my face on my palms, way too fucking tired of all this shit. I was completely fed up. I was fucking done.

"I just want the noise to go away."

I wanted everything to go away.

"And you really think alcohol will solve that?" Arisa questioned in disbelief. "Ditching your classes, bailing on football practice, shutting us out—you think those will help you solve your problems?"

"Nothing will solve my fucking problems," I snapped. "I just want them to go the fuck away."

"You mean you want to run from them."

My jaw clenched.

Arisa shook her head, giving me a disappointed look. "I never thought you'd be a coward."

I scowled. "I'm no chicken shit."

"And yet you tried to get away from your problems by drinking yourself to death." She made a show of clapping slowly. "Real brave."

"You don't know what it's like to feel alone—that no matter how many goddamn people you surrounded yourself with, you still feel fucking lonely. You go out, you drink, you laugh... but the moment your bedroom door closes shut, the eerie silence is fucking deafening. And yet, you have no choice but to fucking live with it."

Memories these past years came crashing back to me. Me going home from a party, all alone, basked in the silence of my room. Me staring at the ceiling, with no idea of my purpose. Me wondering what was the point of living.

"Wow, that's some speech." Arisa nodded. "Yeah, I have no idea what it's like to feel alone. I didn't just leave my family and move all across the country by myself, knowing absolutely no one."

She stepped closer to me, her face hard. "I didn't have to negotiate my way to go to the college I wanted, because no one else in the family supported me in my choice. I didn't have to go through puberty in a foreign land and get bullied because of my race."

She raised her hands in surrender, stepping back up again. "Yeah, I don't know what it's like to feel alone."

Fuuuck, I could be a real dickhead sometimes.

"Arisa..."

"But you know what?" she continued. "I never once felt the need to throw my life away. Because at the end of the day, it's my life. I have to deal with the consequences of my actions. If I'm too reckless, I'll only make things harder for myself. And I love myself too much to do that."

"You didn't kill anyone."

"Neither did you."

I shook my head. "I have to live with the fact that someone fucking died because of me."

"God, the world doesn't revolve around you," she said, sounding frustrated. "He didn't die because of you. It's because of a stupid frat tradition."

"That I pushed him into."

She released a sharp breath, looking at me in pity. "This is getting sad."

"Well, we are in a hospital," I muttered.

She sighed. "I'm done," she declared, before turning around and picking up her parka. While putting it on, she added, "If you wanna throw yourself a pity party, leave me out of it. I'm sorry, but I'm not the kind of friend who will baby you and sugarcoat reality."

"I didn't ask you to."

She grabbed her cup of coffee and looked at me. "The pizza's for Byron. He'll be here soon. He's just finishing some things because he missed the last couple of days of school taking care of your mess."

Damn it, Byron.

The list of shit I owed my roommate was piling up. I didn't even know what the hell I did to deserve a friend like him. Maybe that was just it. I didn't deserve him. I didn't deserve anyone.

I noticed Arisa hadn't left yet. She stood there by the table staring at me, like she did earlier. I would've given anything to have her eyes on me for this long, but not like this. She looked at me like I was a lost little boy, and she didn't know what to say to make me find my way back home.

But that was just it.

I had no home.

"Say it," I said, when she kept looking at me.

"Get your shit together, Alfie."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook my head. "I'm already in too fucking deep drowning."

"Then, learn how to swim."

She headed to the door, but stopped to look at me one last time.

"No one can help you but you."


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I think this is what sets apart Arisa from Connie. The way they handle this side of Alfie is different. What do you think? I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.

Next update: Tomorrow!

Coming up next... Chapter 13: Howlin' For You
To friendzone or not to friendzone? That is the question.

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