Mark Thomas Campbell, esq. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aussielawyer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2016-06-04 09:14 pm
aussielawyer) wrote in muserevival2016-06-04 09:14 pm
Entry tags:
121.1. Lyrics
"So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light
'Cause oh that gave me such a fright
But I will hold as long as you like
Just promise me we'll be alright"
• Ghosts That We Knew, Mumford & Sons
warning: references suicidal ideation and self-harm
Mark was so sure he was keeping his shit together, all things considered. No, he wasn't dealing with anything in a perfect way. Panic had turned into anger, likely misdirected, but he was still too emotionally fired up and taxed to pause and step back just yet. There were things that needed to be done, step-by-step. He was a highly successful attorney, he did this step-by-step shit second nature. It was possibly the only way he could keep his shit together.
He was in his sports car, en-route to Westchester to the adolescent mental health facility, Four Winds. He needed to make sure everything was in place for his son's transfer up there. Keeping his finger on the procedural pulse, attending to paperwork, making sure all the i's were dotted and the t's were crossed. He was Justin's father, this was his job. It had to be done, and urgently. If it wasn't, Justin was going to complete. Mark had this horrible sick weight in his gut about that. It was just near impossible to talk about, because when he merely thought about it, he choked up and wanted to vomit.
Only just managing to drive right by countless bars and liquor stores, Mark kept his mind focused on the road and getting up to Westchester. He had the music up loud to try to distract him from his whirlwind of painful thoughts. In a matter of days, Justin had nearly jumped off a roof and cut his wrists once again. With a IV needle in the hospital, no less. Mark didn't want him locked up in a closed unit in the city. He knew Justin would come out of there a shell. It would destroy him.
They couldn't give up hope. They couldn't stop trying to find a way to protect Justin from the destructive darkness going on in his head. Through no fault of his own. Not really. He had been self-harming again, and no one realised. The cuts got badly infected, and as a result of the infection and high fever, it exacerbated his bipolar, again into dangerous territory. Justin's iron-clad walls slammed up around him, and it made it hard for anyone to breach. You never stopped trying. You couldn't. Eventually, you could ger a breakthrough, but there was no pattern to it every time. Mark would never give up on his son. He was an amazing and beautiful kid, so talented. So selfless. It was the selflessness that warred with his mental incapacity and caused him to put himself in danger. He wasn't reckless, or a loser, or a selfish cunt who only thought about himself. All he was doing was looking for a lifeline; something to hold onto to keep his head above the surface of this murky hole of darkness trying to pull him under.
That was when Everybody Hurt by REM came on the radio. It hit Mark like a ton of bricks. Justin had sung this song in the past. He also used music and performing as an anchor. Before he could stop it, Mark's eyes were welling up with tears and choked sob caught in his throat. He had to pull over to the side of the road when his vision blurred and his concentration on the road was annihilated.
Sitting there in his car on the side of the road, he gripped his hands around the steering wheel and completely broke down. Up until now, he had been fuelled by shock of Justin's suicide attempt, and the adrenaline thereof. One song, and it was gone. It was gut-wrenching. He slammed his palm against the steering wheel when a frustrated burst of anger broke through the pain. Why did it always feel like there was never enough he could do as a father to save his kid? He felt like such a fucking failure. He missed fifteen years of Justin's life, and all he wanted was for his kid to keep breathing. He couldn't lose him, but it was always a burning fear inside him he couldn't switch off.
Worst of all, he wanted a drink. He wanted a drink so bad, that it was eating away inside him. There was a mantra of 'Don't do it, don't do it, don't do' playing on repeat in his brain; an inner monologue reminding him that it was the worst thing he could do. Justin needed him to keep his shit together, and he owed his son that much. He needed to hold on and be okay because Justin wasn't. That was parenthood. You and your wants and needed were never more important than your kid's.
He just had to fucking hold on and keep going, no matter how impossible it felt without a bottle to prop him up through the misery.
MARK CAMPBELL // Original Character
'Cause oh that gave me such a fright
But I will hold as long as you like
Just promise me we'll be alright"
• Ghosts That We Knew, Mumford & Sons
Mark was so sure he was keeping his shit together, all things considered. No, he wasn't dealing with anything in a perfect way. Panic had turned into anger, likely misdirected, but he was still too emotionally fired up and taxed to pause and step back just yet. There were things that needed to be done, step-by-step. He was a highly successful attorney, he did this step-by-step shit second nature. It was possibly the only way he could keep his shit together.
He was in his sports car, en-route to Westchester to the adolescent mental health facility, Four Winds. He needed to make sure everything was in place for his son's transfer up there. Keeping his finger on the procedural pulse, attending to paperwork, making sure all the i's were dotted and the t's were crossed. He was Justin's father, this was his job. It had to be done, and urgently. If it wasn't, Justin was going to complete. Mark had this horrible sick weight in his gut about that. It was just near impossible to talk about, because when he merely thought about it, he choked up and wanted to vomit.
Only just managing to drive right by countless bars and liquor stores, Mark kept his mind focused on the road and getting up to Westchester. He had the music up loud to try to distract him from his whirlwind of painful thoughts. In a matter of days, Justin had nearly jumped off a roof and cut his wrists once again. With a IV needle in the hospital, no less. Mark didn't want him locked up in a closed unit in the city. He knew Justin would come out of there a shell. It would destroy him.
They couldn't give up hope. They couldn't stop trying to find a way to protect Justin from the destructive darkness going on in his head. Through no fault of his own. Not really. He had been self-harming again, and no one realised. The cuts got badly infected, and as a result of the infection and high fever, it exacerbated his bipolar, again into dangerous territory. Justin's iron-clad walls slammed up around him, and it made it hard for anyone to breach. You never stopped trying. You couldn't. Eventually, you could ger a breakthrough, but there was no pattern to it every time. Mark would never give up on his son. He was an amazing and beautiful kid, so talented. So selfless. It was the selflessness that warred with his mental incapacity and caused him to put himself in danger. He wasn't reckless, or a loser, or a selfish cunt who only thought about himself. All he was doing was looking for a lifeline; something to hold onto to keep his head above the surface of this murky hole of darkness trying to pull him under.
That was when Everybody Hurt by REM came on the radio. It hit Mark like a ton of bricks. Justin had sung this song in the past. He also used music and performing as an anchor. Before he could stop it, Mark's eyes were welling up with tears and choked sob caught in his throat. He had to pull over to the side of the road when his vision blurred and his concentration on the road was annihilated.
Sitting there in his car on the side of the road, he gripped his hands around the steering wheel and completely broke down. Up until now, he had been fuelled by shock of Justin's suicide attempt, and the adrenaline thereof. One song, and it was gone. It was gut-wrenching. He slammed his palm against the steering wheel when a frustrated burst of anger broke through the pain. Why did it always feel like there was never enough he could do as a father to save his kid? He felt like such a fucking failure. He missed fifteen years of Justin's life, and all he wanted was for his kid to keep breathing. He couldn't lose him, but it was always a burning fear inside him he couldn't switch off.
Worst of all, he wanted a drink. He wanted a drink so bad, that it was eating away inside him. There was a mantra of 'Don't do it, don't do it, don't do' playing on repeat in his brain; an inner monologue reminding him that it was the worst thing he could do. Justin needed him to keep his shit together, and he owed his son that much. He needed to hold on and be okay because Justin wasn't. That was parenthood. You and your wants and needed were never more important than your kid's.
He just had to fucking hold on and keep going, no matter how impossible it felt without a bottle to prop him up through the misery.
MARK CAMPBELL // Original Character