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Something Connor didn’t know about trying to kill yourself by overdosing, is that you puke. A lot. He’d gotten kinda tired like he usually did when he got high on pills and then his stomach turned inside out. He just wanted to peacefully slip into nothingness but instead there was banging on his door (“Connor! Unlock this door right now!” “What the hell are you doing, Larry kick the door in, CONNOR!”) and he was vomiting blood and bile onto his carpet. So much for just vanishing into thin air like he’d hoped. He was on his side, his body shaking and twitching when he didn’t want to and he heard his chair fall over and no no no, let me die, stay out, just let me die. There was a flurry of noise and movement as every single one of Connor’s secrets came out at once.
Everything was blurred together, from there.
His mom was sobbing on the phone, his dad was picking him up off the floor, he was in an ambulance with a tube shoved down his throat (to get the rest of the pills out). Connor was in the emergency room with an IV in the back of his hand, electrodes still stuck to his chest from the ambulance, and pads of gauze taped to his arms. His dad stayed with him in his room while his mom called the school to pull Zoe out. To see him. Bad idea.
Neither Connor nor his dad said anything. There wasn’t anything to say, really.
At some point, a nurse came in and offered Connor juice. Apple juice. He declined. She insisted he had to drink it to make sure everything was flushed out of his body. Gross, but okay. He drank the apple juice and it felt nice to have something go down and stay down for sure. His mom returned and she was crying. That made sense. Her oldest child did just overdose in front of her. Connor turned slightly to see that his dad’s eyes were pretty red, too. Seriously? His mom reached out and held his hand. He let her.
Connor was on his third box (cup? They were more like cups) of apple juice when his parents were called out and Zoe was let in. Oh no. She looked panicked, her eyes wide and her hands shaking as she let her backpack drop on the floor. She’d come from school.
He didn't know what to say. It didn't seem like Zoe did either. She let out a shuddering breath, trying to collect herself.
“What did you do?” She asked, more of a demand for answers than a question.
“Seems pretty obvious, I think.”
“Connor, what the fuck ?” Oh, she was angry. Okay. Well. That wasn't what he was expecting at all.
“What?”
“What the fuck happened, why would you…?!” Her raised voice had caught the attention of one of the police officers stationed by his room. There was a police officer in case he tried again. Jesus. The officer looked inside.
“Zoe.” He said, grounding her.
She finally calmed down enough to just look at him and process. She clenched her fists started tearing up.
He had to look pretty bad, huh? Connor was still hurting them. His family. He’d failed and he was still hurting them. Why hadn’t it worked, why-
“Zoe, don't cry.” He winced. He couldn't watch her cry, not now.
“Don't tell me what to fucking do, Connor.”
“Zoe…”
“ What? ”
“C’mere.” Connor held out his arms.
“Connor, what-”
“I'm trying to fucking hug you, come here.”
Zoe glanced around, awkwardly shuffling towards him and carefully wrapping her arms around him. After a moment, she shifted so that her cheek pressed against his shoulder, twitched in discomfort, and pulled away.
“What’s on your chest?”
“What?”
She reached out and tapped right underneath his collarbone. Connor scrunched up his eyebrows and reached up to touch the same spot.
“Oh.” His eyes relaxed. “Electrodes. They're for some heart monitor thing, they put them on in the ambulance. I don't know if I can take them off yet.”
His parents walked back in, and Connor now noticed another police officer was outside his room. The rest of the afternoon was filled with doctors and nurses and his parents were rushed in and out and he heard things like “72 hour hold” and “transfer to a behavioral health center soon”.
God, failing a suicide attempt was really fucking tedious.
Zoe had been sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair, picking at her nails or braiding a piece of her hair or anxiously looking at Connor’s arms for however long they’d been there. She didn’t say anything, either.
“Hey, Zo.” Connor said, breaking the silence. She looked up like she’d been startled. “I’m really bored.” He said as casually as he could.
“Well, um-” She started, unsure of what to do.
“Okay, chill out. I tried to kill myself, it’s really awkward now and I’m fucking bored. Do you have your phone? I wanna take a stupid buzzfeed quiz or something.”
Zoe drew her lips into a line and leaned over to around in her backpack for her phone. Connor leaned back in his bed, closing his eyes.
“Which one of Beyonce’s twins are you?” Zoe asked, finally.
“Fuck, I gotta know.” Zoe laughed and it brought up just the hint of a smile on Connor’s face.