Kutner-fest fic: Homecoming
Title: Homecoming
Author: jennydoom86
Characters: Kutner, Thirteen
Rating: R (for Dark themes).
Word Count: 3,241
Prompt #54: Kutner discusses death/dying with Thirteen (can include implications of his suicide or just be about his parents).
Summary: On the way home from the bar Kutner's mind is in overdrive.
Warning(s): Severe Depression, Discussions of Suicide and Mentions of a Suicide attempt. Also contains minor spoilers for “Simple Explanation”.
Author's Note: Okay this is the second depressing fic I have written about Kutner and it's emotionally draining I tell you. :( Anyways I was kind of in a droopy mood before I began writing this so...oh and listening to depressing music helped get me prepared to set the tone for this fic.
------
Kutner lifted the beer bottle up to his lips and guzzled down the final drop. He clasped the bottle tightly in his hands and sighed deeply. The bartender eyed him curiously as he wiped down the counter.
Kutner had come to the bar alone and although he had been surrounded by many people when he first arrived over three hours ago his mind could not process the outer noise, like an old t.v. with bunny ears it simply could not register. It was nothing but static, and now here he was the last lonely patron aside from the bartender who was getting ready to close down the bar.
Kutner wondered why the bartender hadn't said anything to him or why he wasn't rushing him out, after all this guy was off work. He had a life and loved ones to return to and while he wasn't planning on standing in this guy's way he certainly wasn't getting him out the door any faster by still being there.
Not wanting to keep him any longer Kutner finally stood up and put his coat on.
“Thanks,” replied Kutner softly as he handed the bartender a twenty dollar bill.
The bartender- who couldn't have been more than five years older than him- stared at Kutner with his mouth gaped open.
“Oh, no man...I can't take that.”
“Take it. That's for putting up with me all night.”
The bartender gazed at the other man with steady eyes.
“Put up with you?” he questioned. “What are you talking about? You haven't been any trouble.”
He then placed the twenty dollar bill back on the counter and slid it back to Kutner.
Kutner stared at the bill for a moment and slid it to the bartender.
“Please,” he responded, without looking up from the bill.
The bartender watched the man closely. He had been a bartender at this bar for three years and he had never seen this guy in here before. He didn't figure him to be much of a drinker because of how slow he drank and also because he had no real preference and asked that he choose something for him.
There was something off about the man. He had come in alone and sat quietly at the end of the bar just slowly drinking beer after beer. As other people came and went he remained unphased- even as everyone began to take off for the night he remained seated just staring off into space. Technically the bar should have been closed twenty minutes ago and he should have already been at home but he hadn't had the heart to kick this guy out because he just looked so depressed.
The bartender answered the pleading look in the other man's eyes and finally tucked the bill into his shirt pocket.
Kutner walked to the door and just as he was about to push it open the bartender spoke.
“Uh are you going to be okay to drive home?”
Kutner turned to him with a tiny smile and nodded.
“Yeah- well actually I walked. Thanks though.”
The bartender figured he was okay to drive but something inside of him provoked to ask anyways.
“You want a ride?”
“No thanks. I don't live that far but I appreciate it.”
The bartender arranged the last of the bottles and put his coat on. He quickly jogged to the door so he could catch up with the other man before he had gone too far.
“Hey!” he called to the other man who was now preparing to cross the street. “Hold on a sec!”
He quickly locked the door and sprinted towards the street corner.
“Listen are you sure you don't want a ride? It's no trouble.”
The bartender was used to seeing guys like him in the bar. Guys who looked like they needed a friend and he had allowed far too many of them to escape his mind. It's not as if it was his job to look after anyone. After all, he was a bartender and his job was to serve drinks. He just happened to be a caring person and something about this one had caught his attention and he wanted to offer a helping hand.
“I really appreciate it man but I kind of enjoy walking. Listen, maybe I'll see you around sometime.”
And with that he had crossed the street and within minutes had turned a corner and was no longer within the bartender's sight.
Kutner had lied when he told the bartender that he didn't live far but had been honest in saying that he enjoyed walking. In fact, he hated driving and would prefer to walk everywhere but that simply was not always an option. Kutner had been having trouble sleeping for the past few months and sometimes when he couldn't sleep he would just get up out of bed and walk around the city.
Other than the street lights emitting a soft glow along the sidewalk it was very dark and the streets were completely deserted, which was to his liking.
As he walked he observed all of the darkened and deserted buildings.
So far not even a single car had passed him by.
It almost felt as if the world around him was stuck in a coma-like state. Other than himself, there were no other signs of life, not even a wisp of wind to rouse his hair.
The buildings were all closed, no people were out walking, cars weren't passing him by.
It was eerie.
Kutner had always had a sort of fascination with death and it was always present in the back of his mind, but on nights like this it overpowered his senses and he couldn't help but think of anything but death. As a doctor, the most logical conclusion to this could be traced back to witnessing his parents both being shot to death at the age of six. Although due to how traumatic this had been for him he couldn't remember anything from that day, he tried but failed to pull up any sort of memory.
And yet sometimes he had nightmares about that night- highly fabricated images derived from his subconscious to make up for what he couldn't remember or for what he had repressed.
However this hadn't been the cause for his current bout of insomnia, he wasn't sure of the cause.
Yesterday had been a long day and he was physically drained, the not sleeping most certainly didn't help but he was just so numb to any sort of discomfort anymore.
He glanced down at his watch. It was almost three thirty in the morning.
He wanted to laugh. Here he was walking home from the bar at three thirty a.m. and was expected to show up to work in almost four hours.
This was pathetic.
He wanted to laugh- laugh at how stupid all of this was, laugh at how illogical he was being, especially as a doctor. He knew the consequences of not sleeping and yet here he was and as much as he wanted to laugh he just couldn't.
Yesterday the team had lost their first patient in months, a little boy who was cruelly taken away far before his time. He was only eight years old and he had his whole life ahead of him but instead it was stolen. He would never get to fully experience the true joy that it can bring, he would never have a first kiss, graduate from high school, or get married.
The entire team, including House had taken his death rather hard, at least more so than usual but Kutner had taken it the worst and seeing as he was no stranger to death he didn't know why. Why had this little boy's death affected him so much? What was so different about him dying than any other patient?
The rest of the previous day's events began to unfold in his mind and what stood out in particular was a conversation he and Thirteen had shared in the lab.
“Do you believe in an afterlife?”
Thirteen removed her eyes from the microscope and turned to Kutner with surprise. She had been taken aback by the question.
She sighed.
“To be honest I'm not sure what I believe in anymore.”
“That's not exactly the answer I was looking for. Either you do or you don't."
Thirteen opened her mouth to reply but quickly closed it and stared at her colleague in bewilderment.
She thought about it for a few moments and finally answered.
“No,” she replied firmly.
Kutner raised an eyebrow.
“No? You of all people I wouldn't have expected to be so cynical.”
“It's not cynical...just realistic.”
“So you don't think there's any life beyond death? Not even the smallest part of you believes there is a heaven or a hell or some sort of purgatory?”
“No I don't. I think that when you die that's it, party's over. It's just...nothing but darkness.”
“Wait,” he began.
Kutner stared hard at Thirteen as she moved over to the computer and began examining the patient's CAT Scan images. He sat down next to her and continued.
“I just...I can't believe that anyone can possibly think that there's no life after death.”
“Just like I can't believe that anyone can possibly think that avoiding the sometimes unavoidable- broken mirrors, cracks in the sidewalk, black cats, spilled salt or perched ladders can buy them better luck and help avoid an untimely death. I wouldn't suggest having this conversation with just anybody. There are a lot of non-believers out there incognito.”
“There are case studies and personal experiences to back this up. It's becoming this much closer to being scientifically proven as we speak.”
Thirteen rolled her eyes at her colleague.
“It's not fact yet, Kutner. Yes there have been case studies and experiments focusing on the afterlife and all sorts of stories from people who have experienced it but a lot of scientists also believe that it's just the last few functioning wires of the brain releasing one final spark of endorphins and images derived from R.E.M. Anyways why do you care so much what I think about all of this?”
“I'm just curious.”
“Well you wouldn't be the first. Everyone wants to know a dying girl's views on death.”
Kutner turned to her.
“Are you afraid?”
“Yes and no.”
“How can it be both?”
“It just can.”
Kutner remained silent and stared at the computer screen.
“Well it's definitely not cancer, hydrocephalus or addison's,” confirmed Thirteen.
“I'm not afraid of death because I know what will be waiting for me.”
Thirteen turned to Kutner and narrowed her eyes on him.
“Why the sudden fascination with death?”
“This isn't sudden.”
“Are you okay?” she asked softening her tone.
“We're doctors, we are always surrounded by death which should make it something easy to talk about.”
“Yeah but it's not an easy subject for everyone.”
Kutner glanced at Thirteen out of his peripheral vision as he asked the next question.
“Do you believe in God?”
Without switching from his peripheral vision he watched her turn to him once again, only slower this time and stare at him without speaking.
Finally he turned to her and raised his eyebrows.
“If you want me to shut up just say so and I will.”
“Do you believe in God?”
“I asked you first.”
She sighed.
“I don't know...I mean, I'm not ready to register as an Atheist but I guess you could say I'm skeptical.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Well if there is a God...do you think he forgives people who just give up...”
“What do you mean?”
“You know...give up or abandon life for whatever reason.”
“Are you saying...do you mean people who commit suicide?”
“Yeah.”
“I don't know...but are you sure you're okay Kutner?”
“I'm fine...just making conversation.”
“Yeah about death.”
“I think it's perfectly normal to be curious about the unknown. It's a natural human reaction.”
“Yeah but there's a fine line between being curious and obsessive.”
“I'm not obsessed with death.”
“I didn't say you were.”
“You insinuated it.”
“No you did.”
Kutner stopped to think. She did have a point.
They sat for the next few minutes in silence until they got up to take their patient back to his room and on the way out they- or rather Kutner- continued the conversation.
“Have you ever been close to dying?”
Thirteen walked quickly and answered without even turning her head.
“No.”
“I have.”
“So how was it?” she asked almost sarcastically.
“Surreal...calm...peaceful. These voices were calling my name and not just any voices...these beautiful, angelic whispers and my parents were there waiting for me...but they shouldn't have been.”
“Why shouldn't they have been?”
Kutner's thoughts were interrupted by the ear splitting sound of a car horn.
He had been so preoccupied with his wandering mind that he had stepped out right in front of a car.
He quickly jogged across the street and continued walking.
He just realized that he never answered Thirteen's question.
Kutner had a good reason for not answering. As much as he wanted to he simply was not ready to share such a personal piece of information from his life.
Out of nowhere Taub's voice popped into his head.
“Sane people don't attempt suicide.”
“Not ever?” he had answered.
He then remembered when he had told Taub that when your life sucks from the beginning there's nowhere to go but up which was why people like him didn't commit suicide and that was one of many lies he has told. Not because he was embarrassed or ashamed but rather so he could keep one thing in his life a secret.
The memory came back to him at full speed.
He felt so unbelievably tired. He was stumbling around, bumping into things left and right. He grabbed hold of the counter with blood stained hands and pulled himself up to glance once more in the mirror. The pain was nothing like he'd imagined. He stupidly believed there was no pain involved in dying and that it would just take a quick slice and it would all be over.
He screamed out in agony and stared down at the gaping slits that he had inflicted upon his wrists and the river of blood that gushed out. The blood was so red, redder than he had ever remembered from any other previous wounds that had bled. It wasn't stopping. Blood was everywhere and his mother would have a stroke if she saw the state her bathroom was currently in.
His screams went unnoticed and he suddenly wished he hadn't done this. He wished he could reverse it. He didn't want to die. He was just depressed and stupidly decided to slit his wrists. He wanted to live.
He was too weak to move and he knew he wouldn't be able to reach the phone. He attempted to stand but quickly fell and slid down the wall, leaving bloody trails of anguish behind as he sobbed and prayed for the pain to end. He didn't want to die but if dying meant the pain would be over then he would pray for death.
He was a pre-med student, he should have known how painful this would be. Of all the ways he could have killed himself he had to choose one of the most agonizing and slow deaths possible. Sometimes it took minutes to fully bleed out and he had somehow fooled himself into thinking it would be instant.
He couldn't keep his eyes open and he wasn't going to fight it.
He could hear someone calling his name from a distance.
“Lawrence...”
The voices sounded so beautiful.
“Lawrence? Open the door! Lawrence!”
“LAWRENCE!”
He wanted to follow the voices but he couldn't move.
When he opened his eyes the angelic voices vanished.
The door had been broken down and his father was kneeling beside him crying.
“Oh my god! Lawrence, it's going to be okay! Just hold on son!”
Kutner was brought back to reality by a subtle breeze whipping past him.
He stopped for a moment and rolled up his sleeves to look at the scars.
They were easy to miss on a first glance but if you really looked they were still there, after all these years and they were never going to go away. Always to be a reminder of what he did.
Kutner continued walking, his apartment was now within his view although this wasn't cause for him to quicken his step. He continued to take his time. He wasn't in a hurry.
“Kutner!”
He had been about ready to walk out of the doors to Princeton-Plainsboro for the night when Thirteen called out to him one final time. He turned around and waited for her.
“Look I'm sorry about earlier...I guess I'm just...you'd think I'd be used to the idea of death coming up regularly in conversations but I'm not. I'm still just a scared little girl who doesn't want to think about it.”
Kutner nodded and turned to leave but Thirteen caught his arm.
“Eric, Taub and I are going out for a few beers...do you want to join us?”
“No thanks I think I'm just going to go home and go to bed.”
Another lie. He was going to the bar but just not with them.
“Alright well just remember we're all in this together. We all wanted to save him but as corny as this sounds I truly believe everything happens for a reason. He's in a better place now. If you need anything you can call me. You can call any of us.”
“Thank you. Anyways, later gator.”
Thirteen smiled.
“In awhile crocodile.”
Kutner looked down at his watch. It was four-fifteen. He walked up the stairs to his apartment and unlocked the door. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep so he decided to make a bowl of cereal and watch some t.v. and if there wasn't anything on he'd settle for infomercials.
At seven a.m. Lawrence Kutner went into his bedroom and retrieved a pistol from under his mattress. He took a deep breath, placed the barrel to his temple and pulled the trigger.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Author's Note: Okay...that was truly awful! :'( Now I need to read some funny Kutner fics or some sexy Taub/Kutner smut!!!
Anywho please leave reviews, feedback, flames. Anything! :)
Author: jennydoom86
Characters: Kutner, Thirteen
Rating: R (for Dark themes).
Word Count: 3,241
Prompt #54: Kutner discusses death/dying with Thirteen (can include implications of his suicide or just be about his parents).
Summary: On the way home from the bar Kutner's mind is in overdrive.
Warning(s): Severe Depression, Discussions of Suicide and Mentions of a Suicide attempt. Also contains minor spoilers for “Simple Explanation”.
Author's Note: Okay this is the second depressing fic I have written about Kutner and it's emotionally draining I tell you. :( Anyways I was kind of in a droopy mood before I began writing this so...oh and listening to depressing music helped get me prepared to set the tone for this fic.
------
Kutner lifted the beer bottle up to his lips and guzzled down the final drop. He clasped the bottle tightly in his hands and sighed deeply. The bartender eyed him curiously as he wiped down the counter.
Kutner had come to the bar alone and although he had been surrounded by many people when he first arrived over three hours ago his mind could not process the outer noise, like an old t.v. with bunny ears it simply could not register. It was nothing but static, and now here he was the last lonely patron aside from the bartender who was getting ready to close down the bar.
Kutner wondered why the bartender hadn't said anything to him or why he wasn't rushing him out, after all this guy was off work. He had a life and loved ones to return to and while he wasn't planning on standing in this guy's way he certainly wasn't getting him out the door any faster by still being there.
Not wanting to keep him any longer Kutner finally stood up and put his coat on.
“Thanks,” replied Kutner softly as he handed the bartender a twenty dollar bill.
The bartender- who couldn't have been more than five years older than him- stared at Kutner with his mouth gaped open.
“Oh, no man...I can't take that.”
“Take it. That's for putting up with me all night.”
The bartender gazed at the other man with steady eyes.
“Put up with you?” he questioned. “What are you talking about? You haven't been any trouble.”
He then placed the twenty dollar bill back on the counter and slid it back to Kutner.
Kutner stared at the bill for a moment and slid it to the bartender.
“Please,” he responded, without looking up from the bill.
The bartender watched the man closely. He had been a bartender at this bar for three years and he had never seen this guy in here before. He didn't figure him to be much of a drinker because of how slow he drank and also because he had no real preference and asked that he choose something for him.
There was something off about the man. He had come in alone and sat quietly at the end of the bar just slowly drinking beer after beer. As other people came and went he remained unphased- even as everyone began to take off for the night he remained seated just staring off into space. Technically the bar should have been closed twenty minutes ago and he should have already been at home but he hadn't had the heart to kick this guy out because he just looked so depressed.
The bartender answered the pleading look in the other man's eyes and finally tucked the bill into his shirt pocket.
Kutner walked to the door and just as he was about to push it open the bartender spoke.
“Uh are you going to be okay to drive home?”
Kutner turned to him with a tiny smile and nodded.
“Yeah- well actually I walked. Thanks though.”
The bartender figured he was okay to drive but something inside of him provoked to ask anyways.
“You want a ride?”
“No thanks. I don't live that far but I appreciate it.”
The bartender arranged the last of the bottles and put his coat on. He quickly jogged to the door so he could catch up with the other man before he had gone too far.
“Hey!” he called to the other man who was now preparing to cross the street. “Hold on a sec!”
He quickly locked the door and sprinted towards the street corner.
“Listen are you sure you don't want a ride? It's no trouble.”
The bartender was used to seeing guys like him in the bar. Guys who looked like they needed a friend and he had allowed far too many of them to escape his mind. It's not as if it was his job to look after anyone. After all, he was a bartender and his job was to serve drinks. He just happened to be a caring person and something about this one had caught his attention and he wanted to offer a helping hand.
“I really appreciate it man but I kind of enjoy walking. Listen, maybe I'll see you around sometime.”
And with that he had crossed the street and within minutes had turned a corner and was no longer within the bartender's sight.
Kutner had lied when he told the bartender that he didn't live far but had been honest in saying that he enjoyed walking. In fact, he hated driving and would prefer to walk everywhere but that simply was not always an option. Kutner had been having trouble sleeping for the past few months and sometimes when he couldn't sleep he would just get up out of bed and walk around the city.
Other than the street lights emitting a soft glow along the sidewalk it was very dark and the streets were completely deserted, which was to his liking.
As he walked he observed all of the darkened and deserted buildings.
So far not even a single car had passed him by.
It almost felt as if the world around him was stuck in a coma-like state. Other than himself, there were no other signs of life, not even a wisp of wind to rouse his hair.
The buildings were all closed, no people were out walking, cars weren't passing him by.
It was eerie.
Kutner had always had a sort of fascination with death and it was always present in the back of his mind, but on nights like this it overpowered his senses and he couldn't help but think of anything but death. As a doctor, the most logical conclusion to this could be traced back to witnessing his parents both being shot to death at the age of six. Although due to how traumatic this had been for him he couldn't remember anything from that day, he tried but failed to pull up any sort of memory.
And yet sometimes he had nightmares about that night- highly fabricated images derived from his subconscious to make up for what he couldn't remember or for what he had repressed.
However this hadn't been the cause for his current bout of insomnia, he wasn't sure of the cause.
Yesterday had been a long day and he was physically drained, the not sleeping most certainly didn't help but he was just so numb to any sort of discomfort anymore.
He glanced down at his watch. It was almost three thirty in the morning.
He wanted to laugh. Here he was walking home from the bar at three thirty a.m. and was expected to show up to work in almost four hours.
This was pathetic.
He wanted to laugh- laugh at how stupid all of this was, laugh at how illogical he was being, especially as a doctor. He knew the consequences of not sleeping and yet here he was and as much as he wanted to laugh he just couldn't.
Yesterday the team had lost their first patient in months, a little boy who was cruelly taken away far before his time. He was only eight years old and he had his whole life ahead of him but instead it was stolen. He would never get to fully experience the true joy that it can bring, he would never have a first kiss, graduate from high school, or get married.
The entire team, including House had taken his death rather hard, at least more so than usual but Kutner had taken it the worst and seeing as he was no stranger to death he didn't know why. Why had this little boy's death affected him so much? What was so different about him dying than any other patient?
The rest of the previous day's events began to unfold in his mind and what stood out in particular was a conversation he and Thirteen had shared in the lab.
“Do you believe in an afterlife?”
Thirteen removed her eyes from the microscope and turned to Kutner with surprise. She had been taken aback by the question.
She sighed.
“To be honest I'm not sure what I believe in anymore.”
“That's not exactly the answer I was looking for. Either you do or you don't."
Thirteen opened her mouth to reply but quickly closed it and stared at her colleague in bewilderment.
She thought about it for a few moments and finally answered.
“No,” she replied firmly.
Kutner raised an eyebrow.
“No? You of all people I wouldn't have expected to be so cynical.”
“It's not cynical...just realistic.”
“So you don't think there's any life beyond death? Not even the smallest part of you believes there is a heaven or a hell or some sort of purgatory?”
“No I don't. I think that when you die that's it, party's over. It's just...nothing but darkness.”
“Wait,” he began.
Kutner stared hard at Thirteen as she moved over to the computer and began examining the patient's CAT Scan images. He sat down next to her and continued.
“I just...I can't believe that anyone can possibly think that there's no life after death.”
“Just like I can't believe that anyone can possibly think that avoiding the sometimes unavoidable- broken mirrors, cracks in the sidewalk, black cats, spilled salt or perched ladders can buy them better luck and help avoid an untimely death. I wouldn't suggest having this conversation with just anybody. There are a lot of non-believers out there incognito.”
“There are case studies and personal experiences to back this up. It's becoming this much closer to being scientifically proven as we speak.”
Thirteen rolled her eyes at her colleague.
“It's not fact yet, Kutner. Yes there have been case studies and experiments focusing on the afterlife and all sorts of stories from people who have experienced it but a lot of scientists also believe that it's just the last few functioning wires of the brain releasing one final spark of endorphins and images derived from R.E.M. Anyways why do you care so much what I think about all of this?”
“I'm just curious.”
“Well you wouldn't be the first. Everyone wants to know a dying girl's views on death.”
Kutner turned to her.
“Are you afraid?”
“Yes and no.”
“How can it be both?”
“It just can.”
Kutner remained silent and stared at the computer screen.
“Well it's definitely not cancer, hydrocephalus or addison's,” confirmed Thirteen.
“I'm not afraid of death because I know what will be waiting for me.”
Thirteen turned to Kutner and narrowed her eyes on him.
“Why the sudden fascination with death?”
“This isn't sudden.”
“Are you okay?” she asked softening her tone.
“We're doctors, we are always surrounded by death which should make it something easy to talk about.”
“Yeah but it's not an easy subject for everyone.”
Kutner glanced at Thirteen out of his peripheral vision as he asked the next question.
“Do you believe in God?”
Without switching from his peripheral vision he watched her turn to him once again, only slower this time and stare at him without speaking.
Finally he turned to her and raised his eyebrows.
“If you want me to shut up just say so and I will.”
“Do you believe in God?”
“I asked you first.”
She sighed.
“I don't know...I mean, I'm not ready to register as an Atheist but I guess you could say I'm skeptical.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Well if there is a God...do you think he forgives people who just give up...”
“What do you mean?”
“You know...give up or abandon life for whatever reason.”
“Are you saying...do you mean people who commit suicide?”
“Yeah.”
“I don't know...but are you sure you're okay Kutner?”
“I'm fine...just making conversation.”
“Yeah about death.”
“I think it's perfectly normal to be curious about the unknown. It's a natural human reaction.”
“Yeah but there's a fine line between being curious and obsessive.”
“I'm not obsessed with death.”
“I didn't say you were.”
“You insinuated it.”
“No you did.”
Kutner stopped to think. She did have a point.
They sat for the next few minutes in silence until they got up to take their patient back to his room and on the way out they- or rather Kutner- continued the conversation.
“Have you ever been close to dying?”
Thirteen walked quickly and answered without even turning her head.
“No.”
“I have.”
“So how was it?” she asked almost sarcastically.
“Surreal...calm...peaceful. These voices were calling my name and not just any voices...these beautiful, angelic whispers and my parents were there waiting for me...but they shouldn't have been.”
“Why shouldn't they have been?”
Kutner's thoughts were interrupted by the ear splitting sound of a car horn.
He had been so preoccupied with his wandering mind that he had stepped out right in front of a car.
He quickly jogged across the street and continued walking.
He just realized that he never answered Thirteen's question.
Kutner had a good reason for not answering. As much as he wanted to he simply was not ready to share such a personal piece of information from his life.
Out of nowhere Taub's voice popped into his head.
“Sane people don't attempt suicide.”
“Not ever?” he had answered.
He then remembered when he had told Taub that when your life sucks from the beginning there's nowhere to go but up which was why people like him didn't commit suicide and that was one of many lies he has told. Not because he was embarrassed or ashamed but rather so he could keep one thing in his life a secret.
The memory came back to him at full speed.
He felt so unbelievably tired. He was stumbling around, bumping into things left and right. He grabbed hold of the counter with blood stained hands and pulled himself up to glance once more in the mirror. The pain was nothing like he'd imagined. He stupidly believed there was no pain involved in dying and that it would just take a quick slice and it would all be over.
He screamed out in agony and stared down at the gaping slits that he had inflicted upon his wrists and the river of blood that gushed out. The blood was so red, redder than he had ever remembered from any other previous wounds that had bled. It wasn't stopping. Blood was everywhere and his mother would have a stroke if she saw the state her bathroom was currently in.
His screams went unnoticed and he suddenly wished he hadn't done this. He wished he could reverse it. He didn't want to die. He was just depressed and stupidly decided to slit his wrists. He wanted to live.
He was too weak to move and he knew he wouldn't be able to reach the phone. He attempted to stand but quickly fell and slid down the wall, leaving bloody trails of anguish behind as he sobbed and prayed for the pain to end. He didn't want to die but if dying meant the pain would be over then he would pray for death.
He was a pre-med student, he should have known how painful this would be. Of all the ways he could have killed himself he had to choose one of the most agonizing and slow deaths possible. Sometimes it took minutes to fully bleed out and he had somehow fooled himself into thinking it would be instant.
He couldn't keep his eyes open and he wasn't going to fight it.
He could hear someone calling his name from a distance.
“Lawrence...”
The voices sounded so beautiful.
“Lawrence? Open the door! Lawrence!”
“LAWRENCE!”
He wanted to follow the voices but he couldn't move.
When he opened his eyes the angelic voices vanished.
The door had been broken down and his father was kneeling beside him crying.
“Oh my god! Lawrence, it's going to be okay! Just hold on son!”
Kutner was brought back to reality by a subtle breeze whipping past him.
He stopped for a moment and rolled up his sleeves to look at the scars.
They were easy to miss on a first glance but if you really looked they were still there, after all these years and they were never going to go away. Always to be a reminder of what he did.
Kutner continued walking, his apartment was now within his view although this wasn't cause for him to quicken his step. He continued to take his time. He wasn't in a hurry.
“Kutner!”
He had been about ready to walk out of the doors to Princeton-Plainsboro for the night when Thirteen called out to him one final time. He turned around and waited for her.
“Look I'm sorry about earlier...I guess I'm just...you'd think I'd be used to the idea of death coming up regularly in conversations but I'm not. I'm still just a scared little girl who doesn't want to think about it.”
Kutner nodded and turned to leave but Thirteen caught his arm.
“Eric, Taub and I are going out for a few beers...do you want to join us?”
“No thanks I think I'm just going to go home and go to bed.”
Another lie. He was going to the bar but just not with them.
“Alright well just remember we're all in this together. We all wanted to save him but as corny as this sounds I truly believe everything happens for a reason. He's in a better place now. If you need anything you can call me. You can call any of us.”
“Thank you. Anyways, later gator.”
Thirteen smiled.
“In awhile crocodile.”
Kutner looked down at his watch. It was four-fifteen. He walked up the stairs to his apartment and unlocked the door. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep so he decided to make a bowl of cereal and watch some t.v. and if there wasn't anything on he'd settle for infomercials.
At seven a.m. Lawrence Kutner went into his bedroom and retrieved a pistol from under his mattress. He took a deep breath, placed the barrel to his temple and pulled the trigger.
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Author's Note: Okay...that was truly awful! :'( Now I need to read some funny Kutner fics or some sexy Taub/Kutner smut!!!
Anywho please leave reviews, feedback, flames. Anything! :)