Duskwood: Unrecognisable

Part 53

The next morning I woke to the sound of a distressful wail. In one swift movement, I leapt off the couch and ran out of the office. I found Jake pacing rapidly back and forth while clawing at his scalp. His eyes were wide, his face pale, his forehead soaked with sweat while rambling incoherently in German. I ran over and put my arm around Jake to encourage him to take a seat, then grabbed his water bottle and pushed it up against his mouth. At first he ignored the bottle, but he eventually drank from it.

"Did you take the prescription?" I asked as I lowered the bottle.

"Yes," he sneered.

I rubbed his shoulder gently, "Did you take anything else?"

He hesitated, then looked up at me, "Everything hurt."

"Jake," I sighed. "You can't be mixing drugs with your prescription. We don't know what it will do to you. Look at you now! Shit, we have to get you to a hospital."

"No!" Jake shook his head widely. "No hospitals!"

"We don't know how badly this will affect you!" I exclaimed. "What there is complication!?"

"I will be fine," he gritted his teeth.

"This is not fine," I glared.

"Fucking Richy," Jake spat. "He couldn't even kill himself right! Should've cut himself. More efficient. Less risk of failure. Should let me finish what he fucked up."

"Jake," I sighed.

"This- all of this is his fault!" he snapped.

"And he's currently paying for that," I reminded him. "Cursing him isn't going to get you out of this."

Jake was quiet for a moment, "It's not enough."

"What's not enough?" I questioned.

"His punishment. He deserves worse," Jake's expression turned dark. "He's been given an easy out."

"What, do you want to trade places? Prison isn't fun and games, Jake. After we saw Richy a couple of weeks ago, I can tell he's having a hard time coping in there. And now we know he'll be in there for the rest of his sentence," I argued. "We just need to be patient until we find the right prescription for you."

"I am being patient!" he snapped.

"Patient means not taking illegal drugs," I narrowed my eyes.

"I can't- I can't live with the pain," he sneered.

"So we ask Dr. Cumming what pain medication won't mess with your prescription," I said firmly.

"Fine," Jake turned away.

"How are you feeling now though?" I asked concerned.

Jake tilted his head to the side, "Passable."

I glanced around the room. It was clear that Jake had been working all morning at his desk, but I saw no evidence of food. "When was the last time you ate?"

"I don't know," he grumbled.

I lowered my shoulders in disappointment, "Have you been up all night?"

"Yes," he muttered.

"So, it's been over 12 hours. You had your prescription and drugs on an empty stomach with no sleep?" I frowned.

"The prescription was meant to help me sleep. It did nothing," he clarified.

I rolled my eyes, "And your excuse for not eating?"

"I wasn't hungry," he insisted. "I'm still not."

"Uh-huh," I stood up straight again and offered my hand to Jake. "Let's go downstairs and eat together, ok?"