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James Sunderland left with Laura in tow. He did not know her, nor was he sure he even wanted too. He came here for Mary, not whoever this was.
The thoughts were grim, just plain rude and mean. They were not reasonable by any means, yet they kept spawning. Could he just leave her? What would have happened, anyways. Would she be trapped there, too? Forever lost in the same limbo he was stuck in? And would he even care if she was? No, he wouldn't. But despite it all, despite all the voices whispering to him to throw himself into the water, to drown and end everything once and for all. He didn't.
He took her away from the town, the car ride dead silent. She was looking at the map he'd used to get there in the first place, childishly observing it and humming a small tune to herself.
How could she be so.. Normal. After all of this, after everything she'd been told. Why was Laura okay with going with a man she hated? And it wasn't a guess, James could easily see it. The way she spoke, the way she interacted with him. She hated him, she hates him for what he took from her. The once possible life she had, was entirely ripped from her hands. A child, no less. How selfish. James Sunderland was truly a disgusting, thing. Not even worthy to be considered human, for what he's done was beyond inhumane. He deserves to suffer.
...
The adoption process was not easy. In fact, it went no where. It was simple, James wasn't eligible to adopt a child. Not even remotely. He didn't have a stable job, a stable brain. He was fucked in every means possible.
But he supposed in his case he was 'lucky'.
He got Laura easily, and fast. She was a problem child, and according to them she'd been sent back countless times from homes for bad behavior. The longest she'd lasted was a few weeks until the parents were contacting back, complaining about her, and shoving her right back into that prison she wanted so badly out of. She was a child, James would think. She was just a child, was it expected for her to be perfect right out the gates? When her entire life, she never had a home? They wanted her out, so when they found out he wanted to adopt her, they were interested by all means.
Pathetic, truly.
The way they treated her made him feel sick, and made it easier to push asides all the initial anger and annoyance he felt towards her. She was just a kid.
Laura and James had a process to work through. They had to get used to each other, to their new home. Everything was new, and missing the one person they both wanted so dearly to be there. They fought a bit in the beginning, she was a confused and lost little girl - finally having a home, but with someone she didn't like. No matter how much Mary told Laura about him, it was not enough to prepare her. It never would be. He did anything he could to help her, which was ironic as he needed the most help out of either of them. Her countless bickering and whines for him to reach out to someone, to stop drinking, to stop sleeping the days away.. But it would never stop. Especially for just her. Laura was routinely set up with a counselor, to keep in touch and make sure everything was going fine with her new home. Nothing bad popped up, asides the usual 'he's grumpy' or anything alike. Yet, she felt more at home then she had in awhile. "Make sure you talk about anything you need to, Laura." James reminded her. It was almost like a silent plea for her to reveal his secrets, to tell them this man who adopted me murdered his wife - and he told me.
His wife, who was sick and frail - was killed. By her own lover, no less. But she never spoke about it. She kept quiet, only discussing her small gripes with him and the occasional behavioral assistance as she was still quite rowdy.
But she never brought it up to him, didn't ever even insinuate it. She'd just blink at him in silence, then frown. "What about you?" She'd retort. "When are you gonna talk to someone?" James never answered her when she pulled this. Instead, he'd ignore it and return to whatever it was he was doing.
This was a mistake. A bad, bad mistake.
They only had each other. James' father was barely there, mentally, so he really had nothing to hold onto for leverage. He had to do this all alone, or that was what he told himself. "I'm still here." Laura piped up one day, looking at him from her spot on the couch. She looked annoyed, brows furrowed while he looked down into the journal he was writing into. "You're not alone, you know." She huffed, and got off and promptly trots to him. "She's.. Gone. But I'm still here, you know." The way she spoke didn't hold her same snark, it seemed more nervous. Shy, even. "Even if you're kinda annoying, and gross. You're not alone, James." She left it at that, and then returned to her spot. Her crayons were everywhere, some on the floor and some still asides her as she hastily colored her next work.
This was a mistake.
...
It was Laura's 16th birthday.
James had some how managed to prepare a cake for her. It took a few tries, but it worked eventually. It was okay looking, at best. Strawberry with some blue highlights. Her favorite colors, he thought with a slight smile. The cake was dug into by yours truly, a look of pure enjoyment on her face when realizing it was in fact strawberry and not just colored. "Thank you, James!" She beams, grinning at him. Her eyes are sparkling, and for once she truly looked happy. Like she had everything she wanted, for once.
It hurt so much to see the happiness in her face. It hurt so much to see how well she was doing, to watch her grow up and mature into the beautiful young woman he knew today. James was so proud of Laura, and he hated it. This was not a fulfillment he should be having, he did not deserve the peaceful feeling of family.
He'd aged since then, obviously. And just because he was oh so lucky, the stress was seeming to turn some of his blonde strands into a much lighter grey. I'm only 41, he'd think in dismay. This is pathetic.
"I'm gonna go out to the mall with my friends, okay?" Laura called loudly from the doorway, dressed up head to toe along with her brand new purse at her side that James gifted her. "I'll be back.. Soon." James tears his eyes from the mirror and quickly stalked out, squinting at her. "Soon?" He repeats, tilting his head. "Laura, what did I say about.." Groaning, she rolls her eyes and wobbles forwards to the older man, lowering her head. "James, I won't be out long. I promise." She hesitates, but reaches out to grab his hand. The contact was sudden, and causes him to hold his breath. "I promise I won't be out long, kay'? I'll even call you when I get there." Her snarky tone was dropped for a gentle one, one he rarely heard her use. Despite growing up along him, being close and personal was still a bit iffy. They interacted in mostly sarcastic and jokey tones, so whenever she let down those walls, it scared him.
"Trust me, please?" Her grip tightens a little, and James looks down to her much smaller hands in his own.
Her nails are freshly painted, a light sky blue color. Soft, pale skin is pressed against his own. Except his are rough, older. Scars litter his hands and scatter down his arms like a track. A lot were old, but a lot were also not. James knew she could see them, but didn't say anything. Those baby blue eyes trail down, and falter, looking from his skin before back to his face. Her smile faltered, and struggled to remain. "..Okay." James finally breaths out, nodding.
"I trust you, Laura." She smiles instantly, and pulls back. Except it didn't look as genuine as it had initially, it looked forced now. After she pulled away, he is staring at his own hand in silence. James starts to miss the warmth she held.
And it wasn't that he didn't trust her, he was just so fearful for her, so scared of the possibilities in life. He didn't want anything to take her away from him, and that was what scared him the most. This pain, he felt. The pain he made her feel.
This was truly a mistake, and he should have backed out from the very start.
With a final grin and wave, she leaves. James is left in the small apartment in silence, standing in his same spot. He just stares at the door, almost begging for her to return. But she never did.
...
It's 8 pm, and Laura hasn't called. James waits at his spot, unmoving. He waits in desperation, wanting anything from her to let him know she was okay.
But what if she wasn't? What if that was why she didn't, maybe someone hurt her. What if someone took her, what if -
RRRRNG! RNNNNG! The phone obnoxiously screams in his ears. He's tempted to slam it with his fists till it stopped. RRRNG RNNNG! James hesitates, for some reason, before pulling it up. "Hello?"
The other side is silent, and only making him more anxious. ".. Hello? Laura?"
Sudden laughing pulls him out of his haze, replacing the fear with embarrassment. "Gotcha. Yeah, it's me. Just wanted to tell you I'm gonna head to my friends house for tonight, okay? We're gonna watch.." James cuts her off fast, the embarrassment only increasing and becoming unbearable. "Why didn't you call earlier?" He asks, his voice far more mad sounding then he meant. "..Uh." She replies quietly, voice small . "I.. Forgot." Before he knows it, he's standing up. He's talking, and he doesn't know what he's even saying. His mouth moves but his brain just doesn't process it. He doesn't realize what he's said until the other line has gone dead silent.
"I was worried, Laura. You can't just - you can't just leave me hanging like this. What if something happened to you? You're sixteen, Laura. Act like it." The silence is deafening. Shuffling is lightly heard, before stopped. "..I'm sorry." Her voice is tiny sounding, and makes him sick. "I - If you are, please, don't do this again. I just want to know where you are, and that you're okay. I'm not asking for a lot, I'm your father for Christ -"
"No you're not."
James stops talking. Laura doesn't. "You're not my father, James." She reminds him, her voice raising up from that anxious tone she had into one that was much more angrier. "You aren't my dad, and never will be, James. I didn't ask for this. I asked for her." Her words feel like burning iron, and he knows she is only speaking honestly. "I didn't ask to be - to be like this. Everything was supposed to go fine, and it almost did, but you.." Her words are shaking, and he knows what she was going to say.
Laura is talking again but James doesn't listen. "James, I'm sorry." She says meekly. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, I just.. I got upset, b - because you raised your voice, and.." Her panic was distressing him, distracting him over his own teary eyes. "Its fine." He tells her. "I'm sorry, Laura. I shouldn't have done that. Its.." His voice cracks. "Its your birthday. I'm sorry. I love you, just - just be safe, okay?" It feels impossible, but he manages to not cry while speaking. That was the last thing he needed. James did his best to hide away all emotion from Laura, as it was none of her concern. It was not something she should see, or suffer with. Keeping it all within was what he should have done from the start, even with Mary. Releasing his demons only made her hate him, and even if she never said it, James knew it was the truth.
"I will. I promise." James leans his head against the wall, brows furrowed as he tried to hold it together. "..I - I'll call back soon."
He isn't given another second to reply before the line ends. The phone is dropped from his hands, hitting the ground with a loud noise. But he doesn't care, it was the very last thing he cared about. James clutches his head, and allows his hands to clutch onto his skull. He digs his nails into his head, digging as hard as he was able to go. It wasn't enough. It never was.
And just like that, he is going through his room, searching for that same old box. It was tiny, easy to hide. His fingers tear the lid off violently and expose the variety. He is picking up a new blade, unwrapping the small package to throw out the old and worn one he'd used for so long. The leaves the old one in the box, and leaves the thing all together on his bed to enter the bathroom.
The door is locked, and the shower is turned on. James keeps his clothes on because he can't stand to see himself, anyways. The sight of his skin, of his flesh. Any single part of him, it filled him with disgust. He'd avoid mirrors as much as possible, but right now he had no choice but to stare back at himself. He saw a tired, old man. Someone who should have given in long ago. And he tried, he really did. but he supposed it wasn't meant to be. Not until now, that was. His clothes are wet and sticking against his body, the burning water only amplifying it the longer he remained in the bathtub. James doesn't remember when he started, or when to stop. "Do I just keep going until I pass out?" He spoke out loud, fingers shakily holding onto the shiny brand new razor and pressing firmly into his flesh. He goes as slowly as he can, drawing it out. Its a slow painful burn that he's all too familiar with, it drags up a strange and disturbing euphoria, a small moment of peace. For once. There was no turning back, and it lead him to wonder who'd find him.
Laura wouldn't be home soon, anyways.
Knowing her, she'd be spending the night there for a few days. And James couldn't blame her. Their home was nothing but an empty, depression ridden hole. She wanted out, constantly, and James wanted to just drown in it. There was not a lot of people he spoke too, as he kept pretty isolated. Maybe no one would know what happened, not realizing until days later that he was dead. His body rotting and becoming one with the iron liquid that surrounded him. It was a fitting, and pathetic death.
The bathwater is a pretty crimson red, and the stinging allows James to know he did a good job. This was all he could ever do right. He'd been holding back for so long, but tonight was the last straw, it seemed. His hand usually carved lightly, enough to scar and bleed, but not to die. But instead, it felt like he was dragging chalk on a surface, pushing hard - as if it wasn't even penetrating, before dragging down slowly and painfully. The burning water almost reminds him of the lake, albeit much hotter. His blood is coming out in thick, heavy streams. The biggest sign he'd hit too deep. But isn't this what he wanted? Yes, while it was, the fear he felt when he saw it pulse with each heart beat. It was scary.
"This is what I wanted." He'd tell himself, eyes shutting tightly. "This is what I always wanted." He doesn't stop until the razor is fumbled and dropped into the water under him, sinking below the red surface.
He didn't even leave a note. Who'd want to hear what a disgusting, monster like him would have to say, anyways. The thought almost makes him feel at peace, and he lets himself fade further into the boiling water.