Trigger Warning: Mentions of suicide, depression, anxiety

Both of Andy's hands were wrapped in bandages when he woke in hospital, and though he was immediately aware of what had happened and what he'd tried to do, he still opened his eyes in a way that suggested confusion. 

Abigail was sitting in the chair beside the bed flipping through a magazine without reading anything in it, and when she noticed he was awake, she put it on the floor and watched him blink and turn his head towards her. "Hey," she said, then smiled her usual smile. 

Andy closed his eyes. "I thought they killed me," he said, though it wasn't true. He knew as they injected him that it was just a sedative to stop his thrashing. It was comforting to believe it might have been poison. "Did I break my hand?" 

"Cracked two knuckles in your right. Your left is badly bruised." 

"Great." He looked at her tiredly. "You don't have to be here, you know." 

"Honey, shut up." 

"Don't call me honey," Andy mumbled. "You grassed me up." 

"Grassed you up?" 

"To the ambulance people." 

"Mhm, yes, I did."

"You weren't supposed to." He turned his head to look up at the white ceiling. "Fuck you." 

"You're mad at me and that's okay, but it unfortunately is going to make this next bit of news a little harder to stomach." 

"If you're about to tell me I'm being involuntarily hospitalized, I swear to god..." 

"Only for a few weeks, just while you're getting back on your feet." 

"I'm not off my feet." 

"Andy, you've had a nervous breakdown. You know that means you're not functioning like a healthy version of you." 

"It wasn't..." Andy shook his head. "It wasn't that." 

"Then what was it?" 

"A completely normal thing." 

"A completely normal thing?" 

"What are you, a parrot?" 

"I know it's a lot to take it, but-" 

"It wasn't a nervous breakdown, Abigail, it wasn't." 

"Okay. That's okay. But either way, you've just tried to kill yourself, and I can't allow you to return home without the mental help that you need." 

"I don't need anything." 

"Andy." 

"What?" He snapped, looking at her. "What, Abigail?"

"I understand that it can be hard to accept when you're struggling, but you've just tried to commit suicide and it would be stupid for you to go home right away." 

"Stupid," Andy echoed. "Fine. I'm stupid. Cool." 

"Get some sleep, okay?" 

"I've just had sleep," he huffed.

Abigail knew he wasn't mad at her but at himself for letting it get so bad. It was the way he'd been since she'd first started talking to him. He'd take on the weight of other people's mistakes - employees, friends, even strangers - and when it got too heavy, he'd blame himself for carrying it for so long. Only this time was worse, because it was something that he had done that was weighing him down. 

"What about Remington?" He asked after a long silence. "If I have to be in hospital, what about Remington?" 

"I don't know, Andy. I haven't been told anything about that. I'm sorry. I'm sure he'll be okay." 

"I don't know the rules for this," he said. "There are so many rules. I've probably broken most of them by not beating him up or raping him or making him sleep in a cupboard." 

"I'll see if I can find out, okay?" 

"Okay. Thanks." Tears sprung to his eyes and he blinked, but they didn't go away. "I thought I could handle it. I thought if I just...If I kept acting like it wasn't bad, then it wouldn't be bad." He lifted his left hand and weakly wiped at his eyes, tears soaking into the bandage. "I was supposed to be better. Why am I not better?" He dropped his hand into his lap. "And I didn't - I don't want to die. I don't. You believe me, don't you? You believe me?" 

"I know," Abigail said, though she was doubtful. 

"I just...I just need it to stop. That's all." 

"And we'll make it stop, I promise. Everything that's making you hurt, we'll make it stop. But not like this. Not like this." 

"Okay." 

"I'm proud of you for calling me. I know that must have been a hard thing to do." 

"Not really." 

"Why did you call me? To ask for help or to say goodbye?" 

Andy shrugged. He felt like a lesser human for being in such a state, dressed in a shapeless gown with his hands bandaged. "I just...I just needed to. I don't know if it was for help or not." 

"How do you feel about it now? Do you wish you hadn't?" 

"Then I'd be dead." 

"Is that what you wanted?" 

"I don't know. No. I wanted everything to stop, and the only way to do that is by...by dying. But I don't want to not be alive. I just sometimes wish I could close my eyes and make it all go away. And then open then and everything would be fine. But I'm glad I called you, I am." 

"It's normal to want everything to stop for a bit so you can be calm. There's nothing wrong with that. We just need to work on finding ways to be calm that don't involve dying, don't we?" 

Andy shrugged again.

"I think your parents are coming to see you in a bit. I should go before they get here. But I'm always a call away, and I'll be back tomorrow." 

"Okay." 

"Get lots of sleep. You need it. I'm so glad you're alive." 

"Thanks. I will. Sorry for being a bitch about hospitalization. I know you're right." 

"I don't expect an apology, just that you do your best to accept help. You deserve a good life, Andy, not one plagued by repeating suicide attempts. I want to see you smiling again." 

"Don't be soppy." 

"See you tomorrow. Don't tell your parents 'fuck you' like you did to me." 

Andy shook his head. "I would never. I like my parents." 

"Have a good night, Biersack." 

"Yeah, you too. Thanks for everything. Really."