Even Now

Chapter 49: The Ghost... Of His Future - Part One

*this chapter title may have 3 parts to it... I'm so sorry :'( there's just a lot to this one...*

This chapter won't have a lot of dialogue, and it may or may not be difficult to read... ❤️ I'm sorry :(

Withdrawal is not something a person can handle on a whim. For drugs like heroin, and especially with long-term use and dependence, quitting requires medical assistance.
One could either do an outpatient treatment (going to a clinic for anywhere from 30min to an hour for 3-14 days, depending on use), or an inpatient treatment (hospitalized for detox, then usually eased into a stay at rehab - recommended 3 months and is the most effective treatment).

You can always get help. ❤️

On to the story...

***

July 8, 1994: Seattle, WA, USA

What should have been a somewhat celebratory moment was plagued with unease.
Time was of the essence. Every minute was critical.

Withdrawal symptoms, depending on their severity, can be fatal. You could easily take a nap to ease the pain of a stomachache, only to go into cardiac arrest in your sleep (though, that is a worst-case scenario...).
It all depends on how physically dependent the body is on the drug- and Layne had barely taken a break since he'd started his use in April, and his doses that were almost always dangerously high.

Layne's last dose of heroin was nearly five hours ago. And since he'd gotten rid of his stash with no plan whatsoever for what to do afterwards, the situation was becoming quite precarious.

Jerry knew how gruelling it was, getting clean.
He'd never been to rehab before; the thought of it honestly scared the hell out of him, having heard so many horror stories about getting recognized, harassed, controlled, being isolated- hearing Layne talk about his own personal experiences never helped much.
So, whenever he'd try to get sober, Jerry would either quit cold-turkey, or he'd spend about a week of his life at an outpatient clinic.
Being an outpatient was familiar to him. It felt safe, predictable... he only had to go for an hour, more or less, and then he'd be right back at home.
Kind of like 'junkie-church', in a way.

Layne was more of a 'go-big-or-go-home' guy, though, which was why he'd always preferred going to rehab. "Just get it over with", and all that shit.

But at this point, their best bet was to get Layne to a methadone clinic to run some tests and make sure he'd live to see tomorrow.

Yes, that was dramatic, but... you can't be too careful in times like this.

To Jerry's surprise, when he brought this up, Layne's defences fell. He told Jerry that he was 'all for' outpatient treatments. He liked the idea of being able to stay at home where he was most comfortable.
He was also paranoid that going to rehab would mean three more months of a fucking private hell- and he couldn't stand to be alone right now.

Layne wouldn't admit this, but he was afraid that going to rehab would give Jerry a reason to leave him.

So, with only twenty minutes to spare before the point of no return (y'know, that point at the end of the critical first 6-12 hours rehab centres always warn you about), Jerry gets Layne into a cab, where they then embark on the ten-minute drive to Belltown.

***

Belltown was one of the most densely populated areas in Seattle. It was also home to the nearest methadone clinic.
Jerry had heard okay things about it- it wouldn't have been the first place he'd have wanted to take Layne, but at this point, they really had no other options.