a little bit of hope goes a long way
Paul sat in a hospital gown in the main lounge, staring out at the city an savoring the cigarette he'd just snuck in his bathroom. It had been a week since he'd smoked and his head was still a little dizzy. All the colors of the trees seemed vibrant and beautiful. He could honestly say it was the most peaceful he'd been in.. since he couldn't remember. but the moment passed, as moments do.
"Paul?" It was Janice. He turned around slowly, almost afraid to see her. There were tears in her eyes and she rushed up to hug him. He barely had time to stand before she burried her crying eyes into his chest. "please paul fix this. Please. They explained what happened... i'm mad... but i understand."
Paul was still in somewhat of a fugue due to his medcation but he shook his head trying to clear his mind. "Janice... I would never..."
"shh. we can talk about it maybe when you're better. Can we just sit together?" Paul nodded and obliged. They slid their chairs together and Janice sat on his lap, her feet trailing into the other chair. She was a slight girl. Tall, but slight. Paul reconsidered his "moment of peace" to extend to include this.
An hour later she was gone and night was fast approaching. "She's going to leave you. You don't deserve her. You deserve trash"
"BE QUIET!" he hoarsly whispered, perhaps a bit too loudly because half a dozen other patients turned to look at him. He smiled and shrugged.
Laying in bed was the worst. The fist week he just screamed specific memories of what went on had serviced and some vindictive creature in his brain felt the need to flash them before his eyes like a movie... over and over, in all it's disgusting detail. Paul writhed and screamed and clawed at his face. "NO! NO! Not again! PLEASE! NOT AGAAAIN!" pretty soon he was in the "quiet room" (rubber room with cheap ass walls) where he writhed on the floor and crawled into a corner to huddle and hide his face, hide his shame. "Why Why Why would you do this? Why?" then came the shot of ativan to the butt. The screams persisted for a few moments but eventually the drugs took hold and he was left laying like a tired puppy who was dreaming. An occaisional twitch as he's mutter "please... stop... no... it wasn't me... I didn't do anything..." You couldn't have seen it, but Paul had been in this place before for several other reasons. never stayed very long. Panic attacks and blackouts wound him up here but those were different. blackouts made him do things in part he WANTED to do. like smashing that damn guitar who's B string NEVER stays in tune. But this time... this was different. He didn't know why yet but he knew it was. HE knew it because he was in the hospital and not afraid of being there, he was afraid of leaving, of hurting anyone else. "NOooo Please... not again..."
Jared was a mental health specialist who had first gotten to know Paul when he'd first come in. Paul could hear him talking with the doctors and the nurses. "yeah I did his first intake over a year ago. He's got problems but he's NEVER been like this. he's always been a pretty cool and collected guy. This isn't the Paul I know.
With those words a glimmer of hope appeared in Paul and seemed to momentarily drive away the torture of reviewing scenes form his lost weekend. If only Janice would believe "I would... never..." were the last words he spoke as he drifted off to sleep.
"Paul?" It was Janice. He turned around slowly, almost afraid to see her. There were tears in her eyes and she rushed up to hug him. He barely had time to stand before she burried her crying eyes into his chest. "please paul fix this. Please. They explained what happened... i'm mad... but i understand."
Paul was still in somewhat of a fugue due to his medcation but he shook his head trying to clear his mind. "Janice... I would never..."
"shh. we can talk about it maybe when you're better. Can we just sit together?" Paul nodded and obliged. They slid their chairs together and Janice sat on his lap, her feet trailing into the other chair. She was a slight girl. Tall, but slight. Paul reconsidered his "moment of peace" to extend to include this.
An hour later she was gone and night was fast approaching. "She's going to leave you. You don't deserve her. You deserve trash"
"BE QUIET!" he hoarsly whispered, perhaps a bit too loudly because half a dozen other patients turned to look at him. He smiled and shrugged.
Laying in bed was the worst. The fist week he just screamed specific memories of what went on had serviced and some vindictive creature in his brain felt the need to flash them before his eyes like a movie... over and over, in all it's disgusting detail. Paul writhed and screamed and clawed at his face. "NO! NO! Not again! PLEASE! NOT AGAAAIN!" pretty soon he was in the "quiet room" (rubber room with cheap ass walls) where he writhed on the floor and crawled into a corner to huddle and hide his face, hide his shame. "Why Why Why would you do this? Why?" then came the shot of ativan to the butt. The screams persisted for a few moments but eventually the drugs took hold and he was left laying like a tired puppy who was dreaming. An occaisional twitch as he's mutter "please... stop... no... it wasn't me... I didn't do anything..." You couldn't have seen it, but Paul had been in this place before for several other reasons. never stayed very long. Panic attacks and blackouts wound him up here but those were different. blackouts made him do things in part he WANTED to do. like smashing that damn guitar who's B string NEVER stays in tune. But this time... this was different. He didn't know why yet but he knew it was. HE knew it because he was in the hospital and not afraid of being there, he was afraid of leaving, of hurting anyone else. "NOooo Please... not again..."
Jared was a mental health specialist who had first gotten to know Paul when he'd first come in. Paul could hear him talking with the doctors and the nurses. "yeah I did his first intake over a year ago. He's got problems but he's NEVER been like this. he's always been a pretty cool and collected guy. This isn't the Paul I know.
With those words a glimmer of hope appeared in Paul and seemed to momentarily drive away the torture of reviewing scenes form his lost weekend. If only Janice would believe "I would... never..." were the last words he spoke as he drifted off to sleep.