Overdose (BXB) Completed/Editing

Chapter 19 - Rain

Overdose - Chapter19

-Alex-

Listening to my mom and my dad argue has become a daily part of my routine. She calls every other day and asks to speak to me; my dad then gives her an excuse as to why I can't come to the phone and that's how the argument usually starts. My dad has a lot of patience because if it were me, I would have hung up and blocked her number.

Apparently, she's been playing detective trying to find at least one person who was there that night that can act as a witness to support her case. Even after begging her to drop it, she's made it her personal mission to bring me justice and have the ghosts that haunt my dreams pay for their crime. My dad thinks she's doing this to make up for all the times she skipped over me on her list of priorities. I can't say I understand the sentiment because, at this point, I no longer care.

"Alex, I think you should talk to her. It'll at least get her to stop calling," My dad says, momentarily taking his eyes off the road. I peel my head away from the cold window and stare at him blankly, "OR...stop answering every time she calls." Patience is a virtue and I'm the farthest person from virtuous.

"I can't do that, she's still your mom. She still has somewhat of a say-"

"I don't remember her fighting for partial custody. She signed those papers without hesitation, dad. Her "say" means absolutely nothing," I retort harshly. You are such an asshole. I get it from my mom. My dad remains silent, and I resume my aimless stare out the window.

Going to the hospital is not how I wanted to spend my Saturday morning yet here I am. For the past few days, the migraines and fevers have progressively gotten worse. Sleeping feels like an impossible task and I always end up more tired than I was before. Every now and then, my body suffers from violent shakes that I can only describe as debilitating. I've broken a total of seven of my dad's glasses so now our cabinets are filled with plexiglass cups and plastic plates.

The worst part of it all is that I can't seem to escape the "You're doing so well" speech from my dad. He looks at me with pride now instead of worry. I'm suffering but I have to keep face just so that my dad can feel like he has his son back. I have to pretend that I don't want to swallow a bottle of oxy just so my dad can say he's proud of me.

Sobriety is killing me faster than my addiction ever was.

"Wake up, bud," My dad shakes my arm gently. I wasn't sleeping. I can't. I get out of the car at a snail-like pace and follow my dad into the main lobby of the building. To my surprise, it isn't crowded, a few people are sitting in the waiting area and a couple of nurses walk out of the elevators and disappear behind two beige double doors. My dad walks straight towards the desk and begins talking to the nurse. She hands him a clipboard and a pen. He begins to fill out the information and I use this time to marvel at the artwork on the wall. I wonder if those artists were ever told that their art was useless.

"Alex, come on," My dad motions me over and I follow him to the elevator. He presses the button for the fourth floor before turning to me, "Are you okay?" He asks concernedly. Peachy. "I'm fine." Would lying be considered a second language? If so, I'm bilingual.

From the elevator, my dad and I walk straight into an examination room. He motions me to sit on the chair as he sits next to the window. From here, I can see the courtyard where the doctors and nurses have lunch but given that all the tables and benches are covered in snow, I don't think they'll eat outside today.

"Are you nervous?" He asks, fixing his eyes on my shaking hands. If only my shaking was a result of anxiety. "Nope. I'm thrilled to be here when I could be home enjoying my Saturday morning," I retort sarcastically. He chuckles lightly and looks out of the window. "The doctor is just going to check you out and then we'll be back home in no time," He assures calmly.