Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 247

Over the past couple of days, my messages to him have turned into this ridiculous, pathetic spectrum of everything I’m feeling. My voicemails and texts keep shifting....slowly and stupidly, like I’m cycling through every version of myself in real time.

One hour I’m worried sick, begging him to just answer, to just tell me he’s okay. The next I’m pissed off, snapping about how he can’t just vanish on me, not after everything. And then there are the ones in between where I tell him I miss him, where my voice sounds nothing like the composed person I pretend to be.

I’ve sent all of it.

Every shade of panic, anger, fear, love. And he still hasn’t responded to a single one.

I’m under constant watch right now, hospital staff hovering because of the stunt I pulled last night, and my entire family's crammed into the room, their eyes on me Every movement and breath feels scrutinized.

I remember the haze hitting me the moment I woke up last night. The dream I'd had....I can still feel it crawling under my skin. Jax in pain, screaming silently, and I was useless. Every breath was a reminder that I wasn’t where I needed to be. Five days since he left.... five days of waiting, but I couldn’t do it anymore. The meds fuzzed my thoughts, made the room tilt, but all I could see was him.

I forced myself to sit up, and pain sliced through me. My hands found the IV lines, tangled in my fingers, and I ripped them out, ignoring the sting, ignoring the blood prickling my skin where the needles had been. Groaning, I'd pressed my palms to the bed, trying to steady myself, but my body refused.

I grabbed my phone, trying to make sense of the screen, trying to see if I could get a ride, anything that would get me to him. My thumbs barely obeyed, jerking across the glass, typing half-formed words that I couldn’t even read.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, feet hitting the floor with a jolt. I tried to stand, tried to push myself forward, but the world spun faster than I could manage. My knees buckled. I clawed at the bed frame, at the tiles, at anything solid, dragging myself toward the door.

And still, even there, face pressed to the cool tiles, every thought, every ragged breath, every broken inch of me screamed for him. I had to find him. Nurses came running, hands grabbing me, lifting me gently but firmly, murmuring for me to stay still, stay calm. They settled me back onto bed, IVs quickly reinserted, monitoring equipment readjusted.

Damien leans in, his tone firm and unyielding. “Xander, you need to snap out of this. Stop wasting yourself on that son of a bitch!”

I cut him off, my voice sharp, ragged with anger. “Just fuck off. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Alyssa’s voice comes next, clipped and unwavering, carrying that unmistakable authority I used to hate as a teenager, “Xander.” Just my name, but it lands like a blow, silencing everything else in the room.

“Leave me alone,” I snap, the frustration finally clawing its way out.

“You’re being a dick over a guy who walked out when you needed him the most,” Damien shoots back.

“Are you deaf?” I bark, anger cracking through me. “He needs me! And I can’t even get to him cause I’m trapped in this damn place!” The weight of everything I’ve been holding in presses against my ribs, and I feel myself starting to break apart.

My dad opens his mouth, but I shake my head violently. “I don’t wanna hear anything else. Please, just let me be.”

Tears sting behind my eyes. I close them, willing myself to hold it together, to not let the breakdown come yet. I turn my head, trying to breathe, to calm the storm inside me but then my phone rings. Probably nother call from a client checking in. I don’t have it in me.

But then Alyssa utters my name. I turn, and she’s holding my phone, her eyes meet mine. “It’s him,” she says softly. “It’s Jax.”

My chest seizes, and for a split second, I can’t breathe. My vision blurs, my heart’s hammering so loud it drowns out everything else. My mind's a tangle of disbelief and relief. I can’t stop the tremble that runs up my arms.

I grab the phone from Alyssa, my eyes sweeping the room. “Go, all of you,” I choke out.

Damien narrows his eyes. “You serious?”

I give him a look sharp enough to cut him down.

“It’s okay,” my mum says softly, her hand on my shoulder. “Everyone out. Let him have some privacy.”

I watch them leave, the door clicking shut behind them, and I barely wait....I hit answer before he can hang up. My hands shake as I swipe at the tears clinging to my eyes. I tell myself to breathe, to hold it together, to try.

Then he says my name and everything shatters. Every wall I built crumbles in a heartbeat.

“How dare you? How fucking dare you just leave like that?!” I spit it out, a piece of myself ripped away with each word.

After a long pause, his voice comes, low and tight. “I know.... I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” I say, my voice trembling, but sharper than I feel. “Don’t apologize. Just come back. Running away, shutting me out.... it doesn’t change anything. And you know that.”

“I can’t,” he admits, and even through the phone, I hear the weight in him, the tremor in his chest.

“Of course you can,” I snap, fighting to keep my voice steady. “You always can. Just, don’t do this. Not to us. Not to me. I know you’re scared, I know. But it’s done now, it’s over.”

“Xander, I really can’t,” he repeats, quieter and more strained. “Everything...seeing you lying there...it’s too much. I can’t risk it.”

I grit my teeth. “Stop thinking like that. Stop blaming yourself. None of this is yours to carry. What happened wasn’t your fault. You can’t just keep punishing yourself for everything.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath from him. “I called because I heard you tried to leave the hospital. Don't do that, you need to get better–”

I feel my chest tighten, anger and fear twisting together. “How can you even ask me to get better when you left me? You walked away! Do you know how that feels? I’m losing it without you and you're still pushing me away!”

A painful silence stretches between us. I can hear his steady, haunted breathing. My own throat burns, and I whisper, almost to myself, “What does this mean for us? Are you ever coming back to me?”

And in that silence, all the hurt, all the longing, all the fear of losing him for good presses down, heavy and suffocating.