Jordan
I was on twenty-four-hour suicide watch in the hospital, while my father waited on a phone call from the residential treatment center in Aspen that he was trying to get me into.
Derek never asked me if I wanted to go there; I was going and that was it. He'd gone as far as saying that I could hate him the rest of my life if it made me feel better, but he was keeping me alive.
I wanted to hate him for it, for taking control of my life like this, but I couldn’t.
Not when he had sat by my beside for the past eighteen hours straight, while I went through the absolute horror of withdrawals.
My mother had stayed for a while, but Derek had given her his house key and sent her home to his place when the vomiting and diarrhea had gotten so bad that I attempted to smash my face against the tank on the back of the toilet.
He stayed, and warded off the doctors and nurses who had insisted I be restrained to my bed.
In the throes of my pain and madness, I could vividly remember Derek saying the words, "Come anywhere near my son with those and I'll shove them up your ass."
When I had ripped my bandages off and tried to open my stiches, he'd held me in his arms, telling me he loved me over and over, until I gave up fighting.
I wasn’t out of the woods yet.
Not even close.
I still wanted to peel the skin off my bones and douse myself in the iciest water I could find, anything to stop the fire tearing through my veins.
But I could think again.
I could comprehend what people were saying to me.
Everything wasn’t so hazy anymore.
And I fucking hated it.
I didn’t want to wake up from this.
I didn’t want to feel.
I couldn’t do it anymore.
I couldn’t block it out.
I couldn’t keep him out.
Distressed, I got out of my bed, plotting every possible way I could end this once I got into that bathroom and locked the door.
Body trembling, I tried to put one foot in front of the other and failed miserably.
Exhaustion crept through my heart, leaving me with nothing left inside. "Dad," I cried hoarsely as my limbs failed me.
I was done.
All the pain.
The anger.
The hurt.
I couldn’t feel it anymore.
"I've got you, buddy," my father called out, bursting through my personal darkness. His arms came around me just before I hit the ground, breaking my fall. "I'm here," he whispered, wrapping me up in his arms. "Always."
"Dad," I cried, tears flowing freely down my face. "Dad…"
"I've got you, Jordan," he promised, holding me up. "You're safe with me."
"Make it stop," I begged, choking on my tears as sobs racked through my body, rendering me fucking useless. "Take it away for me." Shaking my head, I barked out a sob – one that came straight from the darkest depths of my soul. "I can't…I can't do this anymore!"
"You are not alone." With one arm around my shoulders, my father pressed his hand to my face and dragged me closer, taking my weight for me. "I am right here with you, son."
This was the first time I had allowed a man to touch me and not lose my mind.
It was so fucked up.
I wanted his comfort.
I needed his touch.
I was just so damn scared to feel it.
To let it back in.
Because the emotions I kept at bay were the ones that I knew could kill me.
If I let myself feel them.
"I am going to get you help," he continued to tell me. "And I'm going to be right beside you the whole time." He moved to the bed, then sank down. Limp, I allowed myself to fall into his arms. I allowed myself to lean on him both mentally and physically.
For the first time in my life, I allowed myself to believe him.
"I will never give up on you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "You're my boy, and I love you most."
I shuddered violently at his words.
"We are going to get you into that treatment center, and I will stay there with you if you want me to. And then, we are going to get out of this place. You and me, Jord. We are going to see the world, buddy. Whatever you want. We'll write up a bucket list and do it all."
Tears poured down my face; his words shaking me to my core.
"I love you more than anything or anyone on this planet, and I will get you better, son," he added, voice hoarse and laced with sincerity. "You are my number one."