FicWad

I woke up to the sound of a steady beep. I could still feel the pounding of my heartbeat in my head, but now it was duller and more bearable. My eyelids were heavy and I didn’t have the strength or courage to open them. The burning in my throat had been replaced with a dry, scratchy feel, which was almost as painful as the burning.

I could feel the blanket wrapped tightly around my body and the pillow that was under my head. It was a familiar feeling. The blankets were too thin, and the pillow was too hard. I knew exactly where I lay.

My eyes remained closed as I heard footsteps enter my hospital room. I could sense who was in the room by the way he dragged his feet along the ground. Unsure of himself, it showed in the way he walked.

The bed shifted under his weight, as his aroma filled the air. I greedily breathed it in, my head already starting to get dizzy. His calloused hand brushed the hair from my forehead and his soft lips pressed against the skin where the hair was removed from.

“Bailee, why do you do this to yourself?” Pete’s voice was smooth, but held little emotion. This scene wasn’t an unfamiliar one to either of us.

Shit, if only he knew why I did this to myself I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t stick around for much longer. If he knew the real reason for why I took the drugs, I’m positive he’d hate me. Hell, I hate myself for it.

I had always told him that sometimes I just need to escape from reality. To me, sometimes meant everyday. But I didn’t need to escape; I needed the feeling they gave me. Sometimes I felt like I was flying, free from everything. Other times, I felt invincible, nothing could touch me. But mostly, I needed to drugs to feel okay about who I was.

When I took the drugs I was happy.

I was brought back to reality as Pete’s lips pressed firmly against my own. He was trying to wake me up. He would always do this, rather than shake me. Last time it had happened I had fallen off the bed and broken my arm; he never did it again.

I wasn’t anything more than skin and bones now. I was disgusting. But it didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered except for the feelings that I felt.

I opened my eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the bright room. Looking up, my eyes met with his distant ones, a sad smile playing at his lips.

“Hey,” he whispered, afraid he was being too loud.

“Hi,” I whispered back. My voice sounded hoarse from the vomit and the tubes that had most likely been forced in.

We sat staring at each other for what felt like hours. His eyes were boring into mine, as if he were trying to read my mind. For a moment, I felt vulnerable, like he could actually see into my sick mind. My eyes quickly darted to the blankets, which were securely wrapped around my body.

“How are you feeling?” His hand gently rubbed my cheek, trying to get me to look back into his eyes.

“A little sore,” I looked back up and shrugged, as if it were nothing.

Pete quickly withdrew his hand from my cheek. He looked down at me with that disgustingly sympathetic look. It made me feel sick. If there was one thing I hated it was people feeling sorry for me. Why would anyone feel sorry for a piece of shit like me? Hell, it was my choice to fuck myself up this much.

Pete must have seen the fire in my eyes because the sympathetic look changed to something mixed between regret and hurt.

“You promised this wouldn’t happen again,” his voice was accusing, I couldn’t blame him.

My eyes shot back down to look at the bland, thin blanket.

“I know, Pete,” I mumbled, stupidly.

“This is the third time this year,” desperation dripped from his words.

“I know, Pete.”

My fingers found a lose thread in the blanket and I started pulling at it. I didn’t want to hear the speech that I knew was coming. I just wanted to go home.

Pete’s hand clamped over my own, willing them to stop my nervous tugging on the lose cotton.

“This isn’t a game, Bailee. One day you’re not going to end up in here, hearing this speech,” anger replaced the desperation in his voice. Pete roughly let go of my hands and sharply stood from the bed. “Don’t you dare say you know, because I don’t think you do,” Pete shot me a look I couldn’t quite figure out and began pacing the room with those unsure strides.

My eyes followed his every movement. I was started to feel even dizzier. I sure as hell didn’t want to deal with this right now. Shit, here I am trying to recover from an overdose and Pete’s yelling at me? The echo of my heartbeat played like a broken record in my head, getting louder and louder with each step Pete took.

“When are you going to grow up?” Pete spat the words out like a bad taste in his mouth.

It felt like a slap to my face. Fuck, I could feel the vomit rising in my throat, that burning sensation that I knew too well was taking over my senses.

“I don’t think I can handle this anymore, Bailee. I love you, but Jesus, I’m in way over my head,” he said this more to himself than to me, but boy did I hear it loud and clear.

I could feel the room start to spin. I felt like I was losing my mind. Fuck, this was worse than any overdose. Tears stung at the back of my eyes, and I tried my hardest to keep them at bay.

My hands started to shake a little, and my lungs were restricting the amount of air being let into them. I could feel the panic attack coming on.

I felt Pete’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look into them.

“I promise I’ll get better, I mean it this time,” I pleaded. And despite my best efforts a choked sob passed my lips, and the tears filled my eyes.

I knew as soon as the words had left my mouth though, that I wouldn’t be able to keep that promise. And in all honesty, I didn’t feel guilty about it.

“Fucking hell. Shit,” Pete cursed under his breath, while tugging at his hair in frustration. He looked towards the door, seemingly contemplating his escape, then looked back towards me.

Sighing deeply, he swiftly moved across the room to my hospital bed. His palms gently wiped the tears from my cheeks, leaning down he placed several kissed to my lips.

“I’m sorry for yelling, baby,” he whispered into my lips, before placing more kisses to them.

I bit down on my lip, and looked into his eyes.

Jesus, I needed a hit.