... it's day 7.
Won’t be as bitter as the ones behind you
Be an optimist instead
And somehow happiness will find you"
("Better Things" – The Bouncing Souls)
A/N: "Welly welly welly well ..." (that's a quote from "A Clockwork Orange" by the way) Day 7. What is there to be said about this one? I'm not really sure at the moment. It was damn hard to write it though. And it took longer than I expected to type all this shit out, 'cause it's a LOT. Ooh and Day 8 is next ... what will happen on Day 8? Well, you'll just have to wait to find out what happens on Day 8, won't you?
DAY 7: SOMETIME BEFORE SUNRISE
Oh god. Get me out of here. Please. I don't want to be here. What the fuck is happening to me?
"Do you think we should use an anesthesia?"
"Does he deserve it?"
Anesthesia? Oh god. I'm in an operating room. Please no ... fuck ...
"Ahhh! Don't! Stop!"
"No, not at all."
Oh god ... oh god ... they're gonna cut into me! Fuck!
"Okay then, shall we proceed?"
"Just be calm, Gerard. You won't feel a thing!"
"Oh that's good, nurse. Smile when you say that!"
"Ahhh! Please don't ... you don't have to ... I'll be good ... I swear!"
"Oh you do swear. Actually you have quite a potty mouth on you. But be good? I don't think so!"
"Please ... I'll do anything ... don't ... just ..."
"Nurse. Hand me the duct tape."
Oh god ... oh god ... I'm gonna die ... fuck ... I don't wanna die ...
"No! NO! PLEASE!"
"There we go. Ahh, so much nicer. Although, his screams were ... well, how should I say this ... exciting?"
"Oh indeed, doctor."
"You scream like a woman, Gerard. I like that."
"Maybe once you make the first incision, doctor, he won't be able to talk and then we can enjoy his screaming again?"
This can't be happening ... this can't be happening ... this can't be happening ...
"Fantastic idea, nurse! Now I know why I requested you by my side! Scalpel!"
Oh shit. Oh fuck ... another nightmare. Fuck. I can't take much more of this shit. I'm losing my fucking mind. How many more times can I wake up in a cold sweat? Shit. I woke Kat.
Why do I always have to scream out? Can't I have silent nightmares? I don't want to keep waking her up at all hours screaming. And then she'll ask me if I'm okay. And we all know the answer to that one.
"Did you have another nightmare?"
Please don't touch me right now. My skin hurts. My whole body aches. I'll go in the shower. Yeah. That's good. Just sit in the shower for a while and everything will be all right.
"Do you want me to get you a glass of water or something?"
"No ... no it's cool ... I'm just gonna take a shower."
Fuck. What time is it? 7:13 ... too fucking early. I do need some water. My mouth is so dry. I'll just get some water and then have a shower. Don't gulp ... you know what happened that one time. I'll just leave the light off. There's enough light coming through the window above the shower. Just take off your clothes then start the water. Why does my skin hurt? Feels like ... it feels like every pore is just oozing filth. I fucking reek. Oh god. I keep forgetting she has that full length mirror on the back of the damn door. God I look like fucking hell. I'm a fucking fat slob. Yeah. That's definitely body by booze right there. Pudgy ... and pale. I don't mind the pale part but still. Man I haven't shaved in days. Sometimes I do that on purpose ... so people can tell I'm actually a dude. How fucked up is that shit? Shit ... I think I need to take a shit actually. Is that the phone? Who the fuck is calling Kat this early? I can't believe my stomach muscles are still sore. I did puke again yesterday though. God yesterday sucked. It's over though. Just go day by day. That's all you can do. Why does not even taking a shit feel good anymore? Jeez, detoxing is fucking ... raunchy.
"Your brother is on the phone ..."
"Uh ... I'm on the toilet."
"He just wants you to know that your mom wants us to come over for dinner tonight at 6."
Fuck. I don't want to go anywhere. I feel like fucking garbage still ... and look like it. Mom and dad will be pissed if I don't show though. Shit.
"Okay. Yeah ... tell him we'll be there."
I should have had a smoke first. I could go get one real fast. Oh fuck it. I just want to sit in the shower for a while. Fuck. I have that fucking therapist appointment today. God I want to do fuck all today. I just want to sleep ... like real sleep ... without fucked up nightmares. Ah, the water's nice. I really need to try to relax. Fuck. I should call Frank back too ... he was blowing up my phone all day yesterday. I'll just send him a text message.
Oh fuckin' now what?
"Do you mind if I come in?"
Do I mind? Fuck. I don't want her to think I wouldn't want her to come in but I kinda just wanted to decompress in here alone. Besides, why the fuck would she even want to look at me right now? Shit, I gotta answer her ...
"Um ... okay, I guess."
"Thank you. I have pee so bad!"
Oh. She just has to pee. Well that's fine. Just try to relax ... don't think about all this shit you're feeling. Don't look at her.
She's sitting there taking a piss and she wants to talk to me?
"I kinda need a shower too ... do you mind if I come in there with you? I mean, if you want to just be alone right now, I get it, but I'd kinda like to be in there with you."
Fuck. Am I ready for that? I feel and look like a bloated corpse ... I've never felt so self conscious before. Don't think too long ... don't be stupid ... you've got a hot girlfriend who wants to take a shower with you ... what the fuck is wrong with you? Paranoia will destroy ya ...
"Um ... okay."
Shit. Maybe she just wants to take a shower. Fuck this is pathetic. Pathetic. That's like my new word for everything. I have to find a new fucking word. I've been ignoring Kat's needs for like a fucking month. I've been a drunken asshole ... a total fuck up. I want to make her feel good. I want to thank her for sticking it out with me. Shit, she's naked. I should stand up. Should I tell her what I'm really feeling?
"Can you hand me the soap?"
Okay. Soap. Sure. I can do that.
This is awkward. I should just tell her what I'm feeling.
"You want me to ... wash you off?"
Fuck Can I handle this? Shit I'm starting to shake.
"I-I'm really sorry for the way I've been acting ...I haven't been thinking about you at all ... shit ... that came out all wrong ..."
She's smiling at me ...
"It's okay, Gerard. I told you, I can't feel what you're feeling, but I can at least understand it. I can tell you're really trying this time. And I said before I'd help you when you were ready to quit the booze and shit. Besides I really do need this shower, but I was hoping maybe I could help you relax a little bit ... just get your mind off all this shit that you're going through. Will you let me try to do that?"
Oh fuck. Why does this feel so weird? I do need something to help me relax, but ...
"Um ... this sounds really fucking stupid but I'm freaking out a little. I don't know if it's the withdraw or the no sleep or the nightmares or all the physical shit or what. I'm really ... well ... kinda scared almost ... it's fucking stupid."
"It's not fucking stupid. This is some heavy, life-changing shit you're going through. I don't expect you to just snap out of it and be okay at a moments notice. We're not doing anything we haven't done before and hey, if you're not into it, you're not into it right now and we can just get clean and get out of here. There's no pressure to do anything, okay?"
Maybe I do need this? God I'm gonna try ... try to just relax. I just need to tell her ...
"My whole body hurts, Kat. There are parts of this week where I've never felt so bad in my life. I've wanted to just lay down and die rather than continue. I really want to feel something good. It's become like a foreign fucking concept to me. Sometimes I feel so detached that I don't even feel like this body is mine and other times I either feel like dead inside or sick or in pain. Never mind I'm an emotional wreck. And besides I'm a fucking fat, dirty, alcoholic and I can't even fathom why you would even want to touch me anymore."
Fuck ... I really just said exactly what I was thinking. Well, it's done now. We'll see what happens. Just breathe ... try to stop the tremors ...shit ... she's leaning in to kiss me!
"You're not fat. And of course I want to touch you. But I want you to say something if you want me to stop, okay?"
There goes my heart again ... flopping around in my chest like a dying fish. What the fuck? C'mon, you need this ... you want this ... keep telling yourself that ...Just fucking calm down.
"Um. Okay. I'll try to not freak out on you haha."
"You back is full of knots still. Why don't you sit down and I'll give a back rub?"
Okay fine ... just sit down ... just relax. Fuck, I just flinched. That's bad. But it doesn't feel good ... I can't ignore that ... I'm too fuckin' sore ... I gotta say something ...
"Uh ... can you go a little lighter?"
"Of course. How's that?"
"Okay. Um ... Kat?"
"Thank you for uh ... bearing with me."
"I love you."
"Love you too."
Fuck. Can I handle this shit? Why is this feeling so fucked up? What the hell snapped in my brain lately? I need to feel something ... fuck I have to ...God her hands are going down my sides now ... and down my thighs ...
C'mon ... fuck ... feel something ... just relax into it ... let Kat do this to you ...oh god ... she's gonna touch me ... fuck ... don't freak out ...
"Is it okay if I touch you here?"
Just close your eyes ... concentrate ... stop fucking shaking!
"God ... please don't be mad if nothing happens ..."
Fuck. I said that out loud. Shit.
"Gerard, I'd never be mad at you over something like that. And don't worry about me right now, just concentrate on what I'm doing and try to relax. Just forget about everything but this right now."
Fuckin' easy for her to say. God I need a fucking cigarette. And my head hurts now. Why is that? I'm supposed to not be thinking about anything right now. Oh man. She's got her fingers around my ... fuck ... don't look down ... shit I looked down! Fucking nothing ... I need to fucking feel something ... c'mon concentrate on what she's doing. I'll just close my eyes ...
"You know, I really love doing this. I love playing with your cock."
Fuck. She like, whispered that in my ear ... she's trying to get me into it. God I'm trying too ... if I can just ... get there ... for her ...
"I love how it feels ... when it grows in my hand ... I love to know I'm making you feel good ..."
This is fucking insane. I should so be getting into this more. Hell, she can't even see me ... she's sitting behind me ... I wonder if she did that on purpose ... so she wouldn't see how fucking embarrassed I am not being able to just bust a quick boner for her.
"When I stroke you I imagine how good your cock feels inside of me when you fuck me ... when you fill me up ..."
Oh god ... she knows I love when she talks like this ...I just need to let go ... I just need to get into it ... I'm startin' to ...god ... please body ... work with me here ...
"Ooo I can feel it getting harder ...I'll just use my other hand on your balls ..."
This is kinda erotic ... I can just imagine what this looks like ... Kat sitting behind me ... and her arms around me ... jacking me off ... I'm finally getting there ...god it feels like ...liberating? No ... maybe just like another accomplishment ... yeah that's it. Just a slight bit of control that I have over myself. God I wonder if that's why she's doing this? Or if she really wants me to fuck her?
"Uh, fuck ... Kat?"
"It feels good ... I can at least fucking feel good about something still. Don't stop ..."
"Put your hand over my hand ... help me jack your cock off ..."
Oh fuck. My hand's shaky. Shit. This is fucking intense ... but it feels ... good ... fuck ... yeah ...her hand under my hand ... Just relax. Up ... down ... just like normal, right? Normal ... ha ... that's a fucking joke. When was the last time I even did this to myself?
"Just let go, Gerard ..."
I'm trying to ... get closer ... just think about how hot this is ...Oh god ... oh fuck ... shit ... my body still fucking hurts ...
"Cum for me ..."
Oh fuck ... my muscles all feel like they're gonna rip apart ... but still ...fuck ...just a ... little further ...
"I wanna feel your hot cum all over my hand ..."
Oh shit that did it ... I'm gonna ... blow ...
"Uhhggghhhh fuckkk ... uhhh ..."
Holy ... fuck ... just ... breathe ...
"Oh yeah ... that was fucking hot ... how do you feel?"
Can't ... think ...
"Gerard? You okay?"
Fuck ... say .. something ...
"I'll give ya a second ..."
She's standing up ... is she leaving? Fuck ... say something ... At least my muscles have relaxed a little ... I can't believe I managed to do it. I stopped shaking too ...now if I could just breathe normally.
"Um ... thank you ..."
Stand up ... just touch her ...and for fuck's sake, say something ...
"Kat ... I'm sorry ... I should be the one getting you off here ... you're doing so much for me lately."
"It's okay ... we'll do more later on ... it'll be that much better, you know?"
I'll kiss her ...that's it ... I'll kiss her and then we'll both just get clean ...
DAY 7: AT 1:03PM
Well, here we go. I don't want to be here. My stomach feels like it's in knots. I should have eaten more for lunch and not drank that second cup of coffee. I just need to suck it down – just get through this. And stop wringing your hands like a fucking stress case ... even though you are a fucking stress case ... lately. I'm paying for this half hour. This is something I want to do. I shouldn't hold anything back. Because I'm paying for this and this is supposed to be helping me. Just say what comes into your mind. She's a fucking shrink ... she'll know if you're lying ...or holding back ... that defeats the purpose of this whole thing too. I'd rather be somewhere else though. But where would I rather be? Asleep? I'd probably just have another nightmare. Just admit it. You'd rather be getting wasted. Fuck.
"So Gerard, how have you been?"
Okay ... first question ... just the small stuff ... hello, how are you ... I can get through this.
"Um, well, I'm trying to get clean."
There. Right to the punch. That's why I'm here right? Only have 30 minutes ... might as well make the most of them. I'm fidgeting too much. She's noticed. Now she's writing shit down. I wonder what she's writing ... 'Gerard can't sit still ... he's a stress case ...'
"Well, that's very good to hear. What prompted you to want to get clean?"
Oh I dunno, staring down one too many puke lined trash cans? Fuck ... just talk about the show in Japan ... the hospital ...
"Well, like a week ago we did a show in Japan ... for this festival called Summer Sonic ... anyway, I had a lot of Red Bull and Vodka. I think I took a couple Xanax too. I actually don't remember even arriving in Japan on the plane, let alone at the venue. Everything's a blur. Well, I only remember singing a couple songs, and then stumbling off stage. Someone handed me more to drink and I drank it."
She's gonna sit there and let me tell this whole story I'm sure ...
"Go on ..."
"Well, I kind of remember getting sick in the backstage area. I found this trash can and I drug it over to this couch and sat down and was puking in this can. I couldn't stop puking. I was just leaning on it with my head in it. I couldn't even hold myself up. I just remember thinking that if I lived through this, this would be it – that I'd reached the bottom."
"And what happened after that?"
"I guess Ray found me ... he's one of our guitarists and one of my friends ... actually, all the guys in the band are my friends ... but anyway, he found me and I was totally out of it. Frank told me the next morning that they took me to the hospital. They said I had alcohol poisoning. I don't remember any of that. I just remember waking up back at the hotel and feeling like death warmed over."
Okay. I'm done now ... talk ... tell me that it's all okay ... tell me I can get through this ...
"This was how long ago again?"
"About a week, I think. Those first few days I was really out of it. I'm still kinda out of it."
"Are you still taking the Xanax?"
Fuck no. I have to be straight with her that I don't want to be on that shit ... or anything else either.
"No. I don't want to be on any type of drugs. I was abusing those too even though they stopped working ..."
"They stopped working? You mean, they didn't make you feel any less depressed?"
"Yeah ... I mean, no they didn't make me feel any less depressed."
Shit. That's right, right?
"How about alcohol?"
Fuck. Alcohol. I feel like a drink right now. Should I tell her that? She's just asking if I'm still drinking.
"I think it was a few days or so ago. It was before I left the hotel in Japan to go to the airport. I had some vodka."
"Tell me how you feel about that?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do you think that was your last drink?"
Fuck. I don't know. I haven't been thinking about that.
"I don't know. I'm really trying here. I want a drink right now. I feel like I'm going insane most of the time."
"The important thing to remember when you're at the point that you're at, is that the minute your stop drinking the alcohol, it throws both your mind and body into the start of withdraw. You had been avoiding that by drinking more and more. How bad have the withdraw symptoms been so far?"
Bad is too good a word ...
"Fucking awful ...sorry ... I didn't mean to swear."
"It's okay. You want to tell me about those? And how it's made you feel?"
"Well I went to a regular doctor the day I got back. She said the symptoms were normal and seemed to be moderate. It seems I've experienced it all though – sweating ... shaking ... puking ... nightmares ... I felt like my body was rebelling against me. I've felt really emotional and I've felt dead inside. I've felt angry and depressed and inadequate and pathetic. I feel like I'm on a constant roller coaster."
"These are all normal symptoms of withdraw from both alcohol as well as benzodiazepines such as Xanax. What you're feeling is normal and it will pass."
"Yeah, but how long do I have to feel like this? I mean, today it felt like every pore on my skin hurt. And My muscles are still wrecked. I still get the occasional tremor. I'll wake up to nightmares, covered in sweat. I don't know if I'm strong enough to get through this."
"I have a feeling you're stronger than you think. You've already made it this far. And look at your other accomplishments in life – your band, your music, your art. There is no set timeline for withdraw symptoms. You may have to go through a few more days or a few more weeks. Do you have people around you right now that are supporting you in this?"
Yeah. I sure do. Although I still feel like I don't even deserve them half the time.
"Yeah. I've been kinda staying with my girlfriend for a few days. My friends have been there for me too."
"That's very important. It's okay to feel like you can't face this or that you won't be strong enough to get through this. Don't be ashamed to ask for their help – it doesn't make you weaker; it's actually the opposite. You need to have strength to ask for help and I think you do have that."
DAY 7: AT 1:48PM
YO FRANK. JUST LEFT DOCS STILL FEEL LIKE SHIT BUT SURVIVING. HAVE 2 GO 2 DINNER AT PARENTS 2NIGHT ... WILL CALL U 2MORROW.
K DUDE. HANG IN THERE.
DAY 7: AT 5:38PM
"Thanks for driving, Kat. I still feel really ... just out of it. I shouldn't feel nervous about this fucking dinner, but I do."
"It'll be cool. Your folks are chill usually."
"I know, but they're probably going to ask a lot of questions. I'm not sure I'm up for answering them."
"Just do what you can."
DAY 7: AT 6:15PM
God. Why do I feel like a stranger in my own house? Mom and Dad are being nice, they're not asking too many questions, but I know they can both tell I look like shit. I'm their son for fuck's sake, they know better than anyone when something's wrong with me. They probably don't want to say anything in front of Kat and Mikey's girlfriend. I just need to have a smoke. I need some air too. It feels like my heart's beating too fast again. At least the ibuprofen I took is making my body feel less sore. I hate having to take anything though.
Shit! I wasn't expecting my dad to creep up on me like that.
"So how have you been ... really?"
Oh shit. Here it comes. I can't lie to my dad. He'll know.
"I'm hanging in there. It's not easy. I'm really trying to give up the booze."
C'mon, give me some sage words of advice, dad ... I could really use it right about now.
"Just take it one day at a time, Gerard. Your mom and I are really proud of you, you know – with your band and your art. You've very talented. If you can do all that, I know you can do whatever you set your mind to."
Yeah. Whatever I set my mind to. That's the real trick here. My mind has been such a fucked up place lately.
"I know. Thanks, dad."
"C'mon and finish that cancer stick and come back inside. Your mom's taking the lasagna out of the oven."
DAY 7: AT AROUND 9:40PM
It's not that I don't love my folks, 'cause I do, but I was having a hard time just sitting around talking like nothing was wrong. My mind seemed to just be running away with itself. I was having trouble even paying attention to the conversation and it was starting to show. My façade was cracking. I even got to a point where I was cataloging events in my head – shit that had gone down in the house over the years. Like the time when I was 15 and I snuck one of my dad's beers from the fridge and hid in my room and drank it. Or the time right before my 18th birthday where my friend decided she didn't want to be my friend anymore and I came back here with a large bottle of vodka and holed up in my room until I was puking red white and blue all night. Everything was about the booze. I started to sweat again. I just needed to get off that couch. I made up the excuse that I was getting tired. Really my whole body was buzzing like the end of a lit sparkler. Was it the nervous energy? The stress? The anxiety? I didn't know but I knew I had to do something. I announced that I was going to go down to my room and get a few things then we were going to head back to Kat's.
I got down to my room and just stood there. I knew I had to bring something back up with me or it would look like I had totally lied. I grabbed one of my messenger bags and stuffed a couple t-shirts and some other clothes in there. There was a pile of dirty stuff on the floor that I poked at with my foot for whatever reason and I felt something that obviously wasn't fabric hit into my shoe. I leaned down and reached in. It was a fucking bottle of vodka. Absolut no less. It was more than half empty. I don't even remember ever getting it, let alone leaving on the floor in a pile of dirty clothes. I stared at the bottle in my hand. Without even thinking I shoved it into the bottom of my bag, arranged the clothes on top of it, and headed back up the stairs.
A/N Part II: Don't you just love author's notes that have jack shit to do with the story? You know I do. And you know those last couple "days" were so grueling to write that I couldn't even come up with some fun random goodies at the end of them. So today, I'm just gonna blather on about what we did new years day. We watched a lot of the Twilight Zone marathon on tv. I love that shit. They played the "Talking Tina" episode with the evil doll and Telly Savalas and the doll was all, "My name is Talking Tina and I'm going to kill you". Brilliant. And they busted the one with William Shatner on the plane with the pig-nose carpet monster on the wing and only he can see it and everyone thinks he's crazy. That one's got this money shot at the end where the camera pans all slow and you see the wing really was ripped up. I didn't get to see the robot body episode though, which I was pretty bummed about. That's the one where this old ass couple go in to choose their new robot bodies. That would be fly, huh? A robot body. Fuck yeah. That reminds me of this one old Trek episode ... oh ... never mind. Anyway, Twilight Zone was the shit. Oh and we played xbox. I hopped online with a few friends and we played some Left 4 Dead. Then iwillstakeyourheart and I tried to get through more of Dead Space (that shit's hard by the way ... we had to cheat twice already and look stuff up on the web!). Then we got bored with that and went to get some Greek food. Then we had this lengthy and engaging discussion about bacon. Then in the evening we found ourselves doing, well, uh, that's not the point ... the point is that in the middle of that I happen to look over to this chair in the room because I saw something move out of the corner of my eye and it was the cat. So the cat just sits there in the chair and was just glaring at us the whole time and it was starting to get to me. I mean, what is up with cats? They just like stare and shit and they have no qualms about it either. I never had a dog do that. It was like a judgmental stare too ... like, "you two didn't give me canned food today so I'm going to stare at you until you stop whatever it is you think you're doing and pay attention to my needs again." They've got attitude that's for sure. So yeah, that was pretty random.