Guess what?

It's not Mom that came, but Shelly, my older sister. She was livid. She was preaching to me all day long about the effects of suicide and how it would affect her and Mom. That I was being selfish for thinking suicide was the answer. I am not selfish.

I was discharged a few days ago and not even once did Chance visit me or call to check up on me, but it's fine. I don't need him. Almost two months ago I didn't have an idea that he existed. I had been living my life perfectly alone before he came into it. I don't need him at all. I really don’t need him.

At the hospital, they still assumed that I overdosed because the day I was admitted by Chance, they found a huge amount of pills in my system. Apparently, Chance found me passed out on the bathroom floor and rushed me to the hospital.

There is only one thing that I don't get. How did he get into my apartment without keys? I never gave him my keys.

Right now I was lounging on my couch, watching a documentary. Shelly was cooking dinner, humming to an unknown melody. I've been finding it hard for the last few days to fall asleep because the moment I came back from the hospital, Shelly threw away all the medicine in my cabinet. All that was left in there were toiletries. I was advised at the hospital that I should spend at least a month before starting any new medication.

I asked them how I was going to fall asleep without them. They said I should fool my body into thinking that I was tired. They said sleep will come easily. As if.

"Jay love?" Shelly called out from the kitchen.

I glanced at the kitchen doorway and replied, "Yes?"

"Mom told me about a certain friend of yours. Why didn't he come and check up on you?"

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Is it true that mothers don't keep secrets from their daughters?

"She was lying to you," I said, switching off the TV and standing up from the couch. I stretched my limbs because I've been sitting for too long.

"You are lying. Mom doesn't lie."

I snorted at that. Who the heck doesn't lie? I walked to the kitchen and leaned against the doorway, crossing my arms over my chest. Shelly was wearing a white apron with her blonde hair tied into a messy bun. She was stirring something in the pot. The aroma that was emitting from the pot was making my stomach rumble like thunder.

She looked back over her shoulder and smiled at me. I smiled back at her.

"Want to taste?" She held out a spoonful of soup. I shook my head no and proceeded into the kitchen. I sat down on the kitchen island, placing my feet on top of the stool. She finished stirring and closed the pot, then turned around to look at me with a raised brow.

"Care to tell me about that friend of yours?"

"Why is this a big deal?" I asked, frowning at her. She had the audacity to roll her eyes at me.

"Because he's one of the first few who broke down your walls of defense. He got you to agree to be his friend. That's a big deal since you've never had friends after that incident," she reasoned, her eyes darkening at the last part. I didn't dwell on it too much because I would have a breakdown if I did.

I ran a hand down my face and mumbled, "We fought."

"What?"

"I said we fought."

"Oh."

I nodded my head. She was staring at me in suspicion.

"What did you do?"

That's the question I've been waiting to hear from her. That's how it's always been. I'm always the one who's always at fault. I’m the troubled one, the problematic child.

"I swear this time it's not my fault. He believed that I tried to commit suicide, just like all of you believe. I didn't do anything to him, Shelly," I told her, rubbing my eyes in tiredness. I yawned, a hand covering my mouth.

"So, he must really care about you if he got worked up about the fact that you tried to commit suicide, hey?"

I shrugged. When she put it like that, it made sense, but still. He shouted at me when I was in a bad state of mind. He shouldn't have called me a bitch. Even though he cared, that doesn't justify the fact that he talked to me like I was a degrade, a waste of space and damaged goods. Technically, I was kind of like a damaged good, but still...

She turned back around and adjusted the heat on the stove. I hopped down the island and told her that I'm going to take a shower before dinner.

I left her to do the dishes whilst I went to my room to get clothes. I've been sleeping on the couch since Shelly came to stay with me. My apartment didn't have an extra bedroom. Every time Mom or her came to visit me, they always inhabited my room.

I entered the bathroom and put my clothes on the stool next to the washbasin. I turned the shower on and took off my clothes whilst waiting for the water to warm up.

After a few minutes, I was done with showering and had already worn my clothes. When I entered the kitchen, Shelly had already dished up.

"Smells divine, Sis. Thanks for the food," I said, sitting down opposite her. She smiled at me and grabbed her fork, then started eating. I grabbed mine and dug in.

"So, when are you going back home?" I asked, grabbing my glass of juice and drinking.

She gave me a questioning stare.

"No, no. I didn't mean it like that. I'm not chasing you away or anything. I'm just worried that Lily might be missing you. Plus, I'm sure that the bed is cold. And the couch isn't really that appealing either."

She chuckled at the latter and replied, "I'm actually leaving tomorrow since you are going back to work too. You should try to work it out with that friend of yours, you know."

I snorted in response. I'm not the one who's at fault here. He should actually apologize to me for the things he said. I'm not a spoilt brat. He's the one who's a spoilt brat. I bet he didn't even need to work hard to get to where he is today. All he had to do was chill and relax and get everything delivered to him on a silver platter. I’m not being judgemental. I’m just stating it as it is.

"I'm serious, Jay. You two should work it out like adults,"

What is it with people pestering me about this and that? I don't need a lecture about how to live my life. I'm a grown man and can make my own decisions.

"I'm not the one at fault here, Shelly. He's the one who should approach me and apologize,"

"Come on, Jay-Jay. Don't be like that. He did that because he cared about you. I shouted at you too in the hospital because I cared. You didn't shut me out like you did to him,"

I glared at her. She returned the glare, muttering things under her breath.

"That's not the same, Shelly," I said through gritted teeth, clutching my fork tightly. I just lost my appetite. I put the fork down and stood up from the stool, then grabbed my half empty plate.

"Aren't you going to finish that?"

I shook my head and put the plate in the sink.

After that, I headed out of the kitchen and grabbed my phone and car keys from the coffee table.

"Where are you going?" Shelly called out, her voice high-pitched.

"I'm going out. I'll be back before midnight!" I yelled back, grabbing my jacket from the couch. I unlocked the door and got out.

"Come back here, Jason! That's what you always do! You always run away from your problems!"

When I got into the elevator and it was closing, I saw Shelly on the doorway with an angry expression. I don't run away from my problems. She's lying.

The elevator took me to the ground floor. It was empty as usual. I got out the two pivoting glass doors and into the chilly night. I thought I was going to take my car, but I didn't. I tucked my hands into the jacket's pocket and trekked down the deserted street. The streetlights illuminated everything in my path.

I didn't have an idea of where I was going in mind. 

An hour later, I found myself seated on the bar with the bartender refilling my glass every time it ran empty. The place was filled to the brim with drunk people swaying horribly to the blasting music. I was not drunk at all. I was just a little tipsy.

"Hey, man. Another round?" The bartender asked, smiling at me.

I nodded my head and pushed my glass to his side.

"I've been wondering. What's a good lad like you doing in this place? Haven't seen you around before. So what's your story?" he asked, baffling me.

I was just staring at him, wondering what the fuck?

He chuckled, then wiped the counter with a cloth, his eyes still on mine. I grabbed my glass and sipped the bitter liquid. There was something oddly familiar about this person in front of me. He looked like someone I knew.

"Is that what they taught you at home? To talk to strangers without introducing yourself?" I asked him.

He shrugged in response and turned around to grab a bottle of tequila to serve to a lady that had sat next to me.

"You are not a stranger, handsome. I've been serving you since you stumbled in here. Well, sorry for my bad manners, but my name is Jack."

"Jack who? Frost?" I retorted, a snort escaping me at my bad of an attempt joke.

He chuckled, saying, "You are funny too. So what's your story?"

I didn't know why he kept pestering me about that, but I decided to go with the flow and just tell him, get things off my chest.

"It's life, Jack. Life has got me pretty messed up," I started, staring straight ahead at the many bottles of liquor in full display. Maybe it was the alcohol doing the talking because I knew if I was not tipsy, I would not have talked.

He was all ears, his arms folded over his chest.

"They say I overdosed on sleeping pills at the hospital. My family believes that too. Also someone I thought was my friend. I didn't overdose, man. But everyone believes that," I finished, chucking down the liquor. All was quiet, except the music and cheers going on all around me.

I peaked at him. He was staring at me in a weird way. I raised a brow at that, asking, "What?"

He shook his head as if trying to get rid of the confusion that had clouded him.

"That's sick. If it's any consolation, I believe you by the way," he said, grinning at me. I laughed light-heartedly.

I looked down at my glass and saw that it was empty.

"A refill?"

I nodded, already feeling the effects of the alcohol. At least tonight I'll be able to sleep.