This story has the theme of suicide involved in it so if you're kinda iffy about reading something like that don't go further. This story is a direct result of  "Nothing Left For Us" . If you would like to comment or criticise the story  email me

Dear Log

It seems like forever since I've written about anything other than negativity and exhaustion. For the longest time it seemed like life had been just one big uphill battle and the more we pushed up, the more we'd get pulled back down again. I guess you get used to it after a while, you start to not notice your tiredness until you stop to catch your breath. As long as you keep going and keep your adrenaline going and your mind occupied, you never know how exhausted you really are - or how depressed.

Usually when me, Isaac and Zachary stop in our tracks for a breather, it's usually when we go home.

But on tour, home is a big bus that drives on through the night, and you?re laying listening to the heavy drone of the engine and the wheels on the road. Listening to traffic passing by.

I hate the night. When everything is so quiet, when you're bored and there's nothing to do and then those thoughts start to run through your head, about how unhappy you are, about how much you'd just love to take the nearest razor, smash it and take the blade and slit your wrists and bleed to death.

However, I'm too proud to die. I'm determined one day, I'm  going to be blissfully happy, and that one day I will be used to all this
and it will be fun like it used to be. I would tell myself every night, as I listened to my Cast CD, with the song "Walk Away" on repeat in my Discman, that things would eventually get easier, and I would force myself to believe that. I thought it was ironic I told myself it would get better, and all I would listen to was a song about just walking away from everything. The song always reflected my mood because sometimes I had just wished I could do that.

I had been forcing myself to think that ever since Zac had come up to me in the middle of the night just under a month ago and had said to me, "if I wanted to stop right now, stop this, stop everything, stop music, stop touring, everything, would it be too late."

I'd given him the talk and I'd told him things would get easier the longer we worked at it.

I could force Zac to listen to me all I wanted, make empty promises about how things would change eventually, and how things would definitely get easier. But I knew if I couldn't believe my own words, how could I ever expect my fourteen year old brother to believe them?

I came up with this thought the very same night that Zac landed himself in hospital after swallowing a whole bottle of Aspirin -  I'm talking one of those bottles with like about a hundred in it. However, I'm not sure how many Zac had taken. I remember that night so clearly in my head...

We were on the stage, in the middle of a song, when I noticed Zac's drumbeats slowing down, he was fighting the urge to fall asleep, I could see it. His head kept hanging low, he didn't seem to have the energy to lift it, his flaxen hair hung in his face and I could only make out the furrowing of his brows as he tried to concentrate.

I signalled to Isaac somehow, we had designed this special signal to use with each other if one of us feels ill or if something on stage isn't working properly, we look at each other blink four times and nod two times. This gives the signal that we need to finish the current song, and say goodnight to the fans. We had never had to use that signal 'til that night.

When we finally got off the stage, much to the confusion of thousands of screaming fans, I pulled Zac aside, Isaac just seemed overly confused, he hadn't noticed any abnormal behaviour with Zac.

"Zac?" I put my hand to Zac's head and I made him look at me, his eyes were ringed with dark circles, his skin was pale and moist with
a cold sweat. His skin was cold to the touch. "Zac, look at me!" His eyes were closed, he seemed to be fighting sleep.

"Zac!" I held him up, I felt his body buckling, and Isaac came over, grabbed a hold of Zac under the arm and attempted to hold him up.

"What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know, God, didn't you notice he wasn't himself?" I demanded, I shook my head at Isaac, smacked Zac's face a little, "C'mon, Zac, look at me!"
Zac's eyes blinked open wearily, his pupils were dilated, I could see that even in this dingy light, even in the contrast of his dark eyes. His eyes closed again, his body seemed to double in weight.

"No, Zac, stay awake! stay awake," I held him up, I looked around in panic, "Where the fuck is everyone?!" I demanded near tears.  As far as I could tell my brother was about to fall unconscious and there was not a stagehand in sight! My parents nowhere to be seen.

"Zac!  Zac!!" Isaac shook Zac, struggling to hold him up, "C'mon, Zac, stay with us."

I thought back to just before the concert when Zac had asked me for an Aspirin, I'd handed him the whole bottle without thought because I was so distracted with everything that was going on around us.  Zac hadn't returned the bottle.

My mind worked in the speed of lightning. It was no secret Zac had been feeling depressed - I hadn't even thought it had been that serious.

"Zac!! Zac, did you take all the aspirin?!" I struggled to keep Zac up.

"Wha--" mumbled Zac, he dropped to his knees, I tried to haul his heavy limp body back up, he seemed to dry heave a bit but didn't vomit.

"Zac, speak to me, where's the aspirin, did you take it?"

Zac's head dropped forward, hair hanging in his face, "where's like in--" I don't know what he was trying to say, but those were the only words he managed to speak that I could really make out. Anything else he said came out in mumbles, groans, and soft sighs.

"Tay he's incoherent..." Isaac frowned, "just call the ambulance already!!"

"You call the fucking ambulance, I'm staying with him!" I yelled in frustration.

"Fine," Isaac let go and he ran off to find the nearest phone. Zac and me both dropped to the floor with Zac's weight.

"Tay, what's going on??" My dad appeared from a doorway backstage, seeing Zac on the floor and me slapping Zac trying to keep him conscious, he ran over, fright filling his eyes.

"Dad,he's overdosed!" I wanted to cry, I seriously wanted to break into tears.

Dad and me managed to get Zac into a standing position, by then mom had arrived and she shook him, "Zachary!" her and dad both lulled to him.

My mom looked frantic, too scared for tears, shaking him roughly, "Zac, baby, answer me, come on!" she smacked him hard in the face, hard enough to leave a red mark and his head only swung limply to the side a little and then back to the middle, hair hanging all over the place.

Isaac appeared, promising the ambulance was on its way. At our concerts, there was always an emergency service available for anything that might go wrong in the crowds, but it was outside of the foyer, it had to come around the back. We dragged Zac around, trying to keep him conscious, trying to keep his system from shutting down completely, I smacked him, dad shook him nearly violently, mom screamed in his face and he barely responded with more than the opening of his dull eyes and his mouth hanging open, barely even really there consciously.

When the emergency service arrived moments later, they took Zac - only mom and dad got to go in the ambulance with him, we had to get a cab to the hospital. I sat there in the cab, my hands shaking so badly, eyes tearing up, scared to death that night I was going to lose my brother.

I had never been close to Zac,even when he needed me. Zac was an affectionate young man, he hugged freely when he wanted to, and if he had an admirable affection for you he'd tease you and punch you in the shoulder playfully until it turned into a toy fight. Right now as I write this, I think of how I had missed the signs of his depression. He'd been wearing all black most of the time, his hair was always greasy, he looked like he didn't give a damn about his appearance until someone told him how to dress for a photoshoot or a TV appearance. He mostly sat and played his video games, looking almost blankly at the TV. And I had missed those signs. I hadn't even noticed Zac's change from happy and playful to dull and sad.

I sat there.

Isaac remained silent, he stared into space, distant, the only sound was the communication radio in the front of the cab, the traffic outside, and the hum of the engine.

"What if he dies?" I tried not to sob, but it came that way.

"Shut up!" Isaac spun around and looked at me.

I put my hands to my face, "God he asked me, Ike'he asked me if he wanted to stop was it too late and I told him things would get easier!" I cried into my hands. If only I had really listened that night would it have been different.

"Shut up! Shut up okay?! Just fucking shut up!" Isaac yelled at me.

Right then, I realised Isaac was blaming himself just as much as I was blaming myself. How could we have been so blind as to fail to notice something was wrong? We spent all our time together!

When we arrived at the hospital, we were arguing, we'd started to put the blame on each other. As we entered the waiting room doors, all that could be heard was my voice yelling-

"YOU'RE MEANT TO BE THE ONE FUCKING TAKING CARE OF US! YOU'RE MEANT TO BE THE FUCKING BIG BROTHER! INSTEAD YOU'RE SO FUCKING SELF-ABSORBED AND CONCERNED OVER YOUR OWN FUCKING WORRIES THAT YOU DIDN?T EVEN BOTHER TO CHECK THAT ZAC WAS ALRIGHT!!"

Isaac's eyes were blazing, "HE CAME TO YOU GOD DAMMIT! HE CAME TO YOU LOOKING FOR FUCKING HELP AND YOU TOLD HIM A LOAD OF FUCKING BULLSHIT TO SHUT HIM UP!!! GOD HE WANTED COMFORT, TAY, NOT A PACK OF LIES!!"

"BOYS!" my mother shot up from her chair, I felt a slap to my face, Isaac received one shortly after. "I don't care who's fault you think this is, you will NOT fight in a hospital. Your brother is in an emergency room because of overdosing on pills!!  I do NOT Need to see you two fighting over who's fault this is!" her tears sprang at that moment, her voice came out in broken words, heartbreaking sobs.

"Mom..." I hugged her, I felt her shuddering breath on my collarbone, felt her tears soak the shoulder of my T-shirt, I held her close and cried with her, I felt bad enough as it was, and I thought of how my mom must have felt - the possibility of losing a child. Zac was so young, had so much life to live, so much potential and so much love.

It was hours before we found anything out. Tears ran dry, and we sat in silence, me, mom, dad and Isaac. That few hours felt like a thousand days. Our emotions ripped and torn so convinced that Zac would die.

Isaac's face was blank, he'd never been slapped by mom before, I don't  think he could quite believe it had happened. He hadn't spoken or moved since my dad had told him to sit down after my mom had slapped him.

"I'm going to get some coffee," I stood up, not being able to sit there anymore, I just couldn?t, not in the silence. "Anyone want?"

"I'll go with you," Isaac spoke finally, he got up, looked at me, and I nodded.

"Me and your mother would like coffee..." My dad squeezed my mothers hand, and looked at me and Isaac.

Me and Isaac left the waiting room, I sniffed as I made my way down the hall, Isaac at my side, we asked for directions to the coffee vendor and eventually found it.

"I can't take this waiting, Ike," I drew my breath as I pressed the button for the first cup.

"Tell me about it," Isaac watched a patient in a tartan robe and a pair of grey slippers stagger past with a walking cane.

I handed Isaac the first cup to hold as I put the money in for the second.

Isaac put a hand to his head sighing, "when did we stop talking to each other?" he asked looking at me.

I stared back at him, I could see he wasn't finished talking.

"I mean, when did things get so bad that we all edged away from each other and started living in our little worlds and pretending that everything was alright when we went on stage and on TV..." he looked at me, his mahogany eyes glassy, lifeless.

"I think it started when we grew up, Ike," I sighed.

Isaac nodded, "Probably."
I handed him the second cup.

"It needs to change, Tay," He looked at me.

I gave a nod. He was right. It did need to change.

We needed to stop working as individuals and start working together, helping each other through everything, the way we used to, the way that had always worked the best.

"Tay, I didn't mean it," he softly said.

I knew he meant that I was to blame for this, "I know, I didn't mean it either."

"I feel responsible."

"Me too."

"I mean, I keep thinking if I hadn't wanted to pursue this whole thing and be the band, would Zac be lying in a bed somewhere dying?" he looked at me. "If none of this had ever happened, and we'd never been famous  and someone turned to Zac tomorrow and asked if he'd ever be in a band with his brothers, do you think he would?"

"Probably not," I sighed, I got the last two cups of coffee, and we headed back to the waiting room. More waiting accompanied by drinking coffee and trying to stay awake. It was three in the morning when eventually we were approached by a doctor. Zac was fine, he would live. Probably miserably for the next few days. They'd given him sort of solution to kill off the effects of the aspirin, and then forced him to drink some sort of charcoal based solution to neutralise the first solution. When you're as tired as we were, we didn't take much notice of how they did it, we were only concerned that he was alright.

After my mother and father had been granted the chance to see him, me and Isaac had our chance, and we walked into the emergency room. There Zac was, laying on an emergency gurney, he looked tired, his eyes empty, his lips were all discoloured and there were greyish/black stains at the corners of his mouth - discoloration from the charcoal solution. On his left cheek was a huge purpling mark  - I assumed from where we'd all been hitting him to try and keep him conscious. He looked so exhausted, I felt my heart ache to look at him.

"Zac," I headed to the bed and took a hold of his hand, "How'd you feel."

He looked at me and gave a weak shrug.

Isaac looked at him, "god, you had us worried sick."

"Why's my face hurt?" Zac asked softly.

"Everyone was slapping you trying to keep you awake so you didn't die," I explained.

"Oh."

"Why'd you do it?" Isaac asked quietly.

"Tay said it was gonna get easier, how was I meant to believe that?" Zac looked away from us both, "How can I believe that if even he can't."

I wasn?t sure how in the world he could have known I didn?t believe my own words, but he knew ? I guess we had more of a bond than I could have possibly understood. "Zac." I said.

He looked at me.

"We're gonna start believing it, we all are," I promised, "Just, God, I mean what would we do if you died, Zac?" I asked, tears brimming my eyes.

"Become a duet?" Zac shrugged. It was the lamest joke I had ever heard. I knew it was a joke because a bit of a smirk played on his lips. But it wasn't funny. Despite that, I laughed, and my tears spilled down my face.

"You guys are really pathetic sometimes, y'know," Zac looked at our teary eyes. I could tell he was trying to hide it inside how much he really did hurt to see that we'd cried over him.

And from then on, things did start getting better.

Things got easier the more we told ourselves things would get better, me and Isaac and Zac try to repair the damage, we make time for each other, we talk. People would say its messed up the way we never spend a moment apart but we're brothers. We're family. And family is the most important thing in the world. For a moment, I'd forgotten that.

And so now on, we're going to continue our uphill battle.

We're going to combine our strength and push even harder. Nothing's gonna pull us back this time.

I believe that.

Taylor Hanson

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