Part Fifty-SevenMature

"Seb!" I shriek, hammering on the door with enough strength that it shakes on its hinges. "SEB, LET ME IN! LET ME IN, SEB! DON'T DO THIS!"

With each fist on the door, my panic rises by two thousand percent. 

The street is full of houses, which are full of people. I'm shouting loud enough that it echoes everywhere with the clarity of a microphone. Why can no-one hear me? Why don't they respond?

My mother, she should hear me. Why won't she answer?

Someone, please, just help me.

But nobody does. Nobody cares.

I lift the empty plant pot from the step and throw it through the window. There is no time to remove the glass, and I scramble through the space available. My welfare is not of importance right now.

I'm up the stairs in seconds and I throw myself at Seb's bedroom door.

"Seb, open the door! Let me in! SEB! PLEASE!"

This door breaks and falls inwards and I take in what I see in seconds.

Seb kneels in the middle of the room, his eyes on the floor. He is still. But he's alive.

His skin is sliced and bruised and swollen. Every inch of it.

His head is bleeding profusely from a wound that was clearly not made by a knife. A huge gash runs diagonally down his torso, through his shirt.

There are burns around his neck, ropes in a pile on the floor not a metre behind him. Plaster has fallen from the ceiling.

I see the solid bottom of a broken glass near my foot, and there are shards of it dug into his left hand.

Tablets are strewn everywhere. Bottles of I hate to think what lay about and one knocked over tells me they are all empty.

Seb drops a handful of sleeping pills into what I originally thought was water. But it's too thick to be water.

It's stained red. Everything is stained red.

"Seb!" In a moment I scrabble up from the floor and knock the cup from his hands.

He looks at me with absolute hatred. He grabs my arms. Even though he looks completely weakened, and his hands are slippery with blood, his grip is like iron.

"I want to die. Now." He says with fierce determination. "Let me."

I shake my head. The tears haven't started yet. "No."

"Yes, Lola. You have no choice."

"Yes I do."

"No you DON'T!" He pushes me forcefully away, causing me to hit my head on the wardrobe.

In the time it takes me to recover, he dumps the rest of the pills into a bottle of turpentine and drinks as much of it as he can before he starts gagging. He begins shaking violently The bottle drops from his hands and rolls to my feet.

"SEB!" I make myself get up and throw it as far away from me as I can. "Seb, you stop this right niw!"

"No. I've told you Lola. I've got nothing to live for. Just go away."

"You have EVERYTHING to live for!" I shout into his face.

He throws me against the wall and holds me there. "Nothing, Lola. I have nothing to live for."

Then the tears start, and they do not stop.

Seb picks up a knife from nearby, and at lightning speed I move to take it from him, but he's expecting that. He turns quickly so that I get knocked to the floor.

I trip him and he falls to his knees, so I grab the hand that's holding the knife.

"You have me to live for. And Daniel."

We're so close, there's a paper thin space between us as we both struggle to get the other away.

"Trish and Evan. You've got them to live for. And Seamus, and Tobias, and Judo."

My only advantage is that my hands are dry, but then he starts coughing and I lose my focus momentarily as my face is spattered with warm blood.

The knife slices my shoulder as it falls to the ground. Seb doubles over, choking on the blood that's in his throat.

He can't breathe and there's nothing I can do about it.

He's drowning. He said he wanted to drown. That's what I think before someone drags me out of the room.

The End

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