anxious and alone |dnf|

rehab

TW: personality change, talk about drug addiction, drug aftermath, mention of death, poor eating habits, throwing up

Dreams POV:

It took longer than expected for me to finalize the detox stage, my body took its time. I remember waking up and seeing my doctor standing above me, smiling. "You are ready to start your rehab treatment!" she seemed happy. That makes one of us.

The ride there was silent, the only sound being the radio.

As we arrived at the building I began to feel a little anxious and I think everybody could sense that. It was 7 am. I was greeted at the door by a short man, he had a brown beard and was wearing a hat.

"Welcome to Orlando Recovery Center! My name is Brady, I'll be showing you around the place!" he held out his hand giddily. I shake it, "Clay Miller," I say.

A few people take my belongings into the building while Brady and I follow behind. "So Clay, this is going to be your room while you stay here."

The room was a little larger than the one at my house. Two beds were placed on opposite walls with two dressers sitting beside them, a small wooden desk was placed near my bed. There was a basket on my bed with tissue paper sticking out the side, it was filled with baked treats.

After taking a moment to gather in what the room was Brady takes me around the rest of the building. There were couches lined against almost every wall, three pool tables, a few group therapy rooms, luxurious-looking bathrooms, and even a courtyard outside. The place smelt of lavender, it felt calming. Brady told me that he'd stick around for the day so I could get a good "feel" of what this place is like.

During breakfast, we were served some scrambled eggs with buttered toast and a few fruits. I only ate the toast.

Brady didn't say anything but I could tell what he was thinking.

After breakfast, I was taken to a group session where we sat around in a circle while a calm lady explained how treatment works. A few people frequently glanced over at me, what if they know me? Despite going MIA people still knew who I was. I have a huge role as a content creator whether or not I'm online.

When it was over Brady introduced me to my roommate. "I'm Dawson, nice to meet you!" he shakes my hand. "Clay."

<<<>>>

After lunch I was left alone in a smaller room, only me and a man I'd never met before. "Clay, my name is Carson, I am going to be your therapist while you stay at the facility!" I nod.

"I'd like to ask you why you're in here today, from your perspective."

I bounce my left leg up and down quickly, getting nervous. "I got addicted to anxiety pills, and then started to use other, harder stuff." my voice seemed a little quieter.

"What type of 'harder drugs'?" Carson writes in his note pad and glances back up to me. "Heroin and crack."

"And what type of anxiety medication?" he asks. "Ativan."

"What led up to your addiction?" I wait a minute before answering, my heart pounding out of my chest. "I lived all alone in my house, for years, eventually I started getting really depressed. I stopped enjoying certain things and began ghosting almost everyone I knew. I guess my friend, George, noticed and suggested I start taking my prescription again. I just kept taking more and when the pharmacists stopped me I went and bought some from random dealers."

He nods and writes some more stuff down.

"I've said some really awful stuff to people, and I don't think I feel sorry about it."

"Who have you said awful things to?" I sigh, "George."

"What type of things did you say to him?"

"I told him that all he did was fuck stuff up. That he ruined my life and that I'd rather been dead than with him in that moment." Carson doesn't write anything else down, but instead remains holding eye contact with me.

"Do you know why you aren't sorry?" He asks. I shrug.

"Do you think about this often?" Carson was good at asking questions, it made me annoyed. "I try to piece together what made me like this. If it was actually his fault or not."

"Well I don't know much about George, or what you two have been through, but I can tell you I don't think he intentionally tried to hurt you in any way." I roll my eyes.

We talked more about my addiction and what steps we were going to take to make sure I didn't relapse.

I had free time after, so I decided to go lay down. My heart still ached. It always will.

When I walk into my room I see Dawson rummaging through his bags, seemingly frustrated. I walk over to my bed and take the basket of goodies off. "Hey, do you want this?" I ask. Dawson turns and looks at me, his expression softening. He nods "Thank you."

I lay in bed and face the wall. "How long are you staying for?" I hear across the room. I didn't want to speak, everything just kind of hurt. "30 days," I reply quietly. "Don't worry, it'll go by quickly."

I hum in response and close my eyes.

<<<>>>

Dinner was a wrap with chicken and corn, maybe beans. I tried to eat but I couldn't keep it down again. As soon as I got back to the room I threw up. I wanted to sob right then and there, I felt imprisoned.

I lay back down and curl up, hiding my face in my hands. After a few minutes of not showing up to group therapy, Brady comes to my room.

"Group therapy already started, what's going on?" he says, leaning on the door frame. "I don't feel well." I reply.

He says a few things that were blurry to me, then he leaves.

I fall asleep a couple of minutes afterward. Nothing disrupted my sleep this time. I was just alone.

~

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