"There's always something there to remind me."

[likefatherlikeson]

Who: Justin Campbell and Presley Monroe
What: Reaching out
Where: Home
When: Monday morning

Justin wanted to die. Not that that was news in the literal sense. His mental health was no news to anyone. He was so exposed and now even more so. This was in the sense that he felt so horrifically sick, that he wanted to die to make it stop. He had been a right off the past two nights and all of yesterday. Completely and utterly. When he finally woke up in the early hours of this morning, he had been in a really bad way. He had been agitated, it felt like he had things crawling all over him and he ended up sitting on the floor in the corner of his room just sobbing because he had this inner icy terror that felt like it wasn't going to stop. The illegal drugs mixed with his medically prescribed medication had been a bad mix.

There was an awareness he had doctors around him. There was an awareness his family were there, and Dory was there. He didn't know when he was giving shots of more meds that subdued him and put him back to sleep. He didn't know his dad had been sobbing just as hard as he was seeing him in that terrible state, and refusing to let anyone forcibly admit Justin to a psych unit. There was a lot he wouldn't remember. When he woke up again just a couple of hours before, he was a lot more calm and less tortured. Just incredibly sick. Sick, sweaty, sore, dizzy.

Now, he was sitting on the side of his bed in his just his underwear. He had his forearms resting on the edge of a bucket in his lap that he was heaving into but there was nothing in him to come up anymore. In one arm, his Uncle Sam had put in a drip for fluids that he could have administered at home. His dad had stood by his resolve that admitting Justin to hospital could be the worst thing they did. Which mean, this had to be dealt with at home for now. If only just to see if Justin could overcome this. Presley was there, having come to see how Justin was and asked if he could see Justin. Justin was too sick to protest anything.

"I just want it to stop," he moaned, exhausted.

Comments

[moneyfornothing]

Oh boy, did Presley know exactly how Justin was feeling right now. At least, in the physical sense. Not one person in Justin's recent presence could know how he had been mentally. Before coming in to Justin's room to see him, Mark had been speaking to him about how Justin had been since the party. It was awful to hear, and Presley couldn't even fathom what it was like to see in the flesh. Mark had said at one point Justin was screaming at everyone so hard not to touch him that his throat was bleeding. His harms were all scratched up from trying to stop the crawling sensation he had been experiencing, and in the immediate wake of the party, he had been hallucinating about people trying to beat him with sticks and snakes eating his feet. The drugs had been a really bad cut with his usual meds. It was a sheer and utter miracle Zed had been able to grab Justin and restrain him enough to stop him running in front of a car. Mark admitted to Presley he didn't know how the guy did it, but he was glad he did.

Presley had gone to speak to Zed also. They spoke a lot. Ultimately, it had just been false information that Presley and the Foundation had been involved, but he still felt responsible and wanted to help as much as he could. He got a clearer picture off Zed, who had been sober and witnessed a hell of a lot. Right now, Presley just wanted to talk to Justin, because Justin had been hoodwinked the worst of everyone. He sat next to him on the bed... or beside the little pup sitting by Justin's hip guarding him with her tiny life. "It will stop eventually, buddy. It always does. Trust me, I understand that side of things."

[likefatherlikeson]

Justin held his hand up at Presley with a moan. "Don't. Y'all don't know what this feels like. Don't be one of them." He was a bit of a bitch when he was feeling this shit. When he was manic, the sass-o-meter tended to crank right up to full capacity. Everyone close to him had fallen victim to it. So, he had gone to a party. He remembered that, and he remembered freaking the fuck out when he walked in. Beyond that, it was a big gaping hole of blackness and nothingness. He knew shit happened. Whenever he had a string of people, usually starting with his dad, that was there looking over him when he woke up feeling like hell in a shitpile, something bad had happened. Drugs and drinking. He hadn't wanted to know anything else after that.

"Why are you even here? This isn't doing my fucking reputation any good. I don't even think I have one anymore. Now I'm going to be that psycho cunt who takes drugs and drinks. I'm going to lose my job. I'm a fucking farce. I'm farce, so just fucking leave," he mumbled, head resting back down against his arm now he was losing his fire already. The words, they kept coming. Even feeling as bad as he did, the fingers on his other hand were drumming against the side of the bucket. He couldn't stop.

[moneyfornothing]

Of course Justin was being a bitch. The come-down almost always demanded it because the body was lacking the serotonin it was overloaded with on E. That, and the fact Justin was apparently having a manic episode, as Mark had warned Presley, anger was not at all surprising. Plus, when you felt shit, people getting up into your face could make you angry too. Something they had been dealing with with Cole recently. "Justin, I used to be a drug addict," he finally said quietly, putting it out there. "I told you about my mom's suicide, but I didn't elaborate on the fact that it caused me to developed a serious drug addiction to try to switch all the awful feelings off. I know what a comedown feels like. I know how terrible you feel when the high stops."

"Hey, we had an agreement when you joined SOV that you could confide in me about anything, and I would have your back. Reputation isn't an issue here. You're a sick kid who is in pain, and all these bad things come hand-in-hand with that. Even if the Foundation had nothing to do with the party, that deal still stands, okay? Your dad and me, we're doing everything to can to make sure you weren't a willing participant in what happened and that you weren't there to represent drug use in anyway. All social media has been intercepted. All this matters is just helping you through this," he insisted and reached over to scratch Dory's little head. "You've got a killer protecting you here, you know."