Nicholas could feel the world move. He’d been on a binge for days. Booze and rugs. He sat on the foot
of the bed naked. He opened his mouth as the prostitute he had been killing time with placed the drug
on his tongue. It dissolved immediately, and then she kissed his mouth. Nicholas lay back, but it felt like
he was floating as he lay back on the bed, the woman kissing her way down his body until her mouth
wrapped around his cock.
He closed his eyes and lost himself to the altered state of mind. If he was lucky, he would die right now
at this moment. He’d been popping far more of his medication than he should, mixing it with street
drugs and copious amounts of hard liquor. He kept hoping he’d overdose. That he would have a bad
reaction and just stop his heart, but despite what he took or what he mixed it with, he was still here.
He kept waking up.
Why… oh, why… would not God just let him die?
Nicholas faded in and out of reality. He had no concept of the passage of time. He could not tell
anymore what time of day it was or if he was even alone. He did not feel the woman anymore, and his
buzz was fading. So, he got onto his unsteady feet and found his way to the washroom. He reached
around the counter, feeling for his pill bottles. He did not know which one he had grabbed, but he
removed the lid and tipped his head back to dump the pills into his mouth, but nothing came.
Empty.
He threw the bottle to the floor and opened another, tipping his head back to pour the pills in his mouth.
Empty.
He opened one after the next and always got the same result.
Empty.
Nicholas growled and threw the bottle. Then in anger, he swept his arms across the counter, knocking
everything to the floor. He was out of drugs. So much for dying in a chemical haze. He stood in the
washroom. His hands braced on the counter as he thought about his life. He thought about Kinsley,
and his heart ached.
His father had forced Octavius to remove all sharp and dangerous objects from his room. Measures to
be sure he could not slit his wrists. But Nicholas was resourceful. Giving in to his deep-rooted anger, he
drove his fist into the mirror and heard it shatter. His hand hurt, and he knew he had cut himself. He felt
around until he found a large shard of glass. He held it in his palm and then sat down on the floor with
his back against the shower door.
He lifted his arm and pressed the broken glass to the flesh, and cut as deep as he could. The pain was
bittersweet. He transferred the glass from one hand to the other and cut his other wrist, then dropped
the glass. He could feel himself grow weak as the blood left his body; he felt peace. The pain was a
sweet release. His arms dropped to his sides, and his head fell back against the glass door behind him.
His eyes closed as he felt the world fade away.
“God damn it!” He heard a familiar voice snap. Octavius had walked in. He felt his friend grab clothes
applying pressure to his wrists, doing his best to stop the bleeding.
“No,” Nicholas whimpered weakly, trying to push Octavius away. He did not want to be saved. “No. Let
me die,” he barely managed, and then he slumped over and lost consciousness.
***
When the car pulled up to the palace, there was an ambulance, two cop cars, a fire truck and a
personal vehicle that was not one of theirs. Kinsley could see the concern on Naya’s face. They got out
of the car and ran inside. Naya rushed to her husband, who looked worried. “Samuel, what is this?”
She demanded. “What has happened?”
“Nicholas tried to take his life again,” Samuel told her. And she sobbed, covering her mouth with her
hand. “Dr. Horton and the EMTs are in his room with him trying to save his life. There’s been no word
yet.”
Kinsley felt her heart almost stop. Had Nicholas finally succeeded in taking his own life? She felt tears
fill her eyes, and she was forced to look away. She did not want these people to see her cry. The rest of
the first responders were standing around talking. They waited in the parlour for what felt like an
eternity. Kinsley said nothing, only listening to Samuel tell his wife how Octavius had found him. Kinsley
felt weak, so she had chosen to sit while they waited for news.
After what seemed like forever, Dr. Horton came into the room, removing bloody latex gloves. Everyone
looked at him expectantly. Kinsley held her breath. “He is resting,” a gasp of relief spread through the
room. “He cut fairly deep this time. I had to repair some of the damage. I have stitched him up and
bandaged his wrists. I wish you would reconsider and allow me to take him to the hospital where he
can be monitored.”
“No,” Samuel shook his head. “If he goes to the hospital for trying to kill himself, the press will have it all
over the news. I will not have him humiliated. This stays between us.”
“Of course,” Dr. Horton said. “I noticed he has been abusing his medication. I will write you a
prescription to replace the drug, but I suggest someone monitor them in the future. We will all leave
now. I will return in a few days to see how he is doing. He needs rest,” they thanked the doctor for
making a house call and then the staff showed the first responders and the doctor out.
“May I go up and sit with him?” Kinsley asked as she came to her feet.
“Of course, child,” Naya said with a weak smile.
Kinsley did not wait for the staff to show her to Nicholas’ room. She knew the way. She opened the
door to his room and went inside to find Octavius coming out of the washroom with a trash bag. He
looked surprised to see her.
“Miss. Wells, how nice to see you. How horrible the circumstances.”
“It is nice to see you too, Octavius.”
He looked at the bag in his hand. “I was just cleaning up the mess. I will leave you alone,” he said,
walking past her and leaving the room. He pulled the door closed behind him. She walked over to the
bed where Nicholas now lay. He was asleep in the middle of the bed topless. The blanket up around
his waist and his arms on top. Both his wrists wrapped in bandages. She walked over to the bed and
sat down next to him. She stroked his hair and tried not to cry. She was upset that he would hurt
himself this way. She leaned over and gently placed a soft kiss on his lips.
She heard him take a breath. As she sat up, she looked down at him as his eyes slowly opened. He
stared straight ahead as he came to. “Peaches?” He whispered, and she smiled. He smelled her
perfume. She stroked his hair and then caressed his face. The stubble was rough against her hand. His
lips curved in a weak smile. “Am I dead? Is this heaven?”
She chuckled. “No. You are very much alive.”
“Kinsley?”
“Yes?”
“Are you really here, or am I hallucinating?”
“I am really here,” she kissed his forehead. “You should rest. Sleep.”
His eyes fell closed again, and she knew he was fading away again. He lifted a weak, trembling hand,
and she placed her hand in his. “Do not leave me.”
“Never,” she promised, and his hand fell away as he lost consciousness again. She would not leave
him again. She did not care what he said. She was not going to let him send her away. When he
recovered, she would stand her ground. This would never happen again.
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