⚠ Suicidal thoughts, self blame, mention of abuse, talk about      cutting and eating disorders ⚠

Dear Richie,                                   Nov. 22

My new therapist told me to write in a journal about what happened to us. So this is my first entry I guess.

The doctors said I needed a therapist to help me cope with everything. She's really nice, and she smells like cookies. Her name's Lauren.

I keep remembering that day differently. Sometimes Bev comes in before Dan fires the gun. And she knocks him unconscious. Then you run to me and untie me and hug me and tell me everything's alright.

But sometimes Bev never comes. And you die, and then Dan makes me have sex with him. I don't like that version.

The ride in the ambulance always stays the same. The doctors are asking me about Dan, and my leg, but all I can think about is you. And then I get to the hospital, and they give me anesthesia.

I wake up, and you're not in the room. Everyone else is, but not you. And then the Losers try and tell me what happened, but I won't listen.

"There was only a 5% chance he was gonna live, Eddie..." They'll say as I'm sobbing into their shoulders.

But that was the first day. I was in shock, and I didn't understand anything.

Now I won't accept it. I've just refused to. That's why Lauren wants me to write in the journal. To help me "cope with the loss"

But there isn't any loss. There just isn't.

•°•

Dear Richie,                                   Nov. 23

There's a song I heard today, it reminded me of this situation, and just of you in general.

"Dear God,
Hope you got the letter and..."

That's Lauren, telling me to write the journal entries.

"I pray you can make it better down here"

You would make everything better if you were here.

"I don't mean to make a reduction in the price of beer"

I made you stop drinking.

"But all the people that you made in your image
See them starving on their feet
'Cause they don't get enough to eat"

You've been away almost a week, and I've barely eaten. I know that would make you sad, and I'm sorry...but it's not like you can yell at me.

"We all need a big reduction
In the amount of tears"

I can't stop crying. The doctors said I almost got dehydrated, and I would've needed an IV. But I'm used to them, my mom made me get a ton of IVs when I was younger. But you already knew that. I told you everything back then.

"And all the people that you made in your image
See them fighting in the street"

I told you everything back then, but I don't anymore. And if I had just told you about Dan when the fighting first started, none of this would've happened. I'm sorry Richie.

Love,
Eddie

•°•

Dear Richie,                                   Nov. 30

The nurse just put on the radio to cheer me up. Our song came on.

All I want to do is "put my head on your shoulder". But you're not here. And fuck, I can't live without you by my side.

I haven't eaten in a while, Rich. The doctors think I have, but I just flush it down the toilet or put it in the garbage. I'm sorry... I want to make you proud, but I can't.

If I wasn't in the hospital, I would've started cutting. I'm not trying to do some "Romeo and Juliet" shit. It's just that this is all my fault.

If I just told you...if I just said that Dan was hitting me...

God, I feel like a douche. I didn't want to get hurt, so I stayed quiet. It was so selfish of me. And I'm sorry. For everything.

Stan's been talking me through it. I can't tell Lauren, she'd just tell the doctors, and they'd put me through more therapy. So I told Stan, and he's been trying to help me through it.

He's been doing better, by the way. Bill and him are planning the wedding, and when they come over, I help. It's pretty fun, but it reminds me of you.

Bev and Stan stay with me all the time. The others have work, but they visit when they can. Bev was the only other one there, and Stan knows how I'm feeling. So they really help me out a lot.

I miss you Richie. More than you could ever know...

Love,
your Eddie Spaghetti

•°•

Dear Richie,                                   Dec. 03

I'm doing a little better. I still think it's my fault, but I'm starting to eat. It's only a little bit at a time, but it's progress.

And I'm happier too. The doctors said I could visit you in a little bit. I'm really excited about that. They warned me what you look like...

You're attached to a bunch of tubes that are breathing for you. Your skin is pale, your lips are almost blue. You look like your dead, but you're not.

You're still alive.

Barely, but you are.

The doctors and Lauren said that it would've been damaging for me to see you a couple weeks ago. But I'm ok now.

But you're not doing better. The only reason you're still alive is because of those machines. They're living for you.

The doctor is here and I'm gonna go see you. I'll write soon.

Love,
Eds

•°•

Dear Richie,                                   Dec. 05

Today's a bad day.

•°•

Rich

I'm not doing too good

•°•

Richie I don't know how much longer I can do this. I want to cut. I want to die.

•°•

Dear Richie,                                   Dec. 19

I haven't written in a while. I got bad...

I pretended that I was ok so that they doctors could let me go. They did. As soon as I got home, I started cutting. And it was really bad. I passed out.

Stan found me about an hour later. I wasn't answering his calls, and he probably knew what happened. He came to our apartment, and he saw it all.

I made him promise not to tell Lauren. I knew she would just make me go back to the hospital as a psych patient, and that wouldn't help me. I just get bad memories of when Mommy made me go to a ward for being gay...

Stan said he wouldn't tell anyone. But he made sure I would come to him if I felt like cutting again. And I will.

I told Bev that I relapsed and cut, and she said that she would help me get districted. We went a bar, and got WASTED. I did something stupid and crazy...so I have a surprise for you if you wake up.

WHEN.

WHEN you wake up.

You're waking up Richie, you just have to. I can't live without you. I need you.

And I need to show you what I got. You're either gonna start cracking up or start crying. I can't wait for you to se-

"Eddie!" Bev ran into the apartment. I looked up at her, and she had tears streaming down her face. A smile was spread from cheek to cheek.

"Richie's awake."