A STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION

4

"that's the second damn time it's happened this month." One voice complains, sharp in the tongue.

"Was he this lethargic last time?" another voice asks.

"No," the first one replies, "he was much angrier. More energy than a spaz on a sugar rush, I tell you."

"Glad I wasn't there to see that."

Hhhnnnggrrr." A long, painted groan escapes my lips as I come to, again, but from a dreadful sleep this time. The room is bright to my eyes as I open them, the sun's rays light laser beams cutting into my pupils, and I shield them sluggishly with my arms.

"There he is." The first voice, more distinct now, deep and rumbly with a foreign lilt to it, calls out.

"How are we doing, dickhead!?" The owner of the voice picks up, almost a yell; an exclamation, and I feel a sudden slap to my face, a hard one, a bright hot sting lingering on my face all of a sudden.

"Dave, what the fuck?" The first voice, whom I suspect to be Cam, yells after the slap, as he begins to cross the distance, halted only by a finger from Dave.

The sting of the slap woke me like an ice-cold shower, and my eyes have fully adjusted now to the rooms light and I can see that the two have tidied the place up a little bit. The cushions are placed neatly on the corners of the couch I lay on, the litter cleaned up into bin-bags and the table cleared of clutter, various cutlery and dishes tidied away.

It also smells a lot nicer in here than it did.

I'm brought back to reality as two massive hands grip my shoulders forcefully, and of course Dave is the culprit.

Still momentarily startled, I don't begin to take in what he's saying, only seeing his mouth open and close, lips forming illegible words.

"Huh...?"

A deep breath, then tightened grips on my shoulders.

"Second FUCKING time!" He yells, startling me, though I'm able to understand now, and all I can respond with is a mumbled "sorry."

"Sorry? Fucking sorry? Is that all you have to say, when I have to fucking revive your ass for the second time!"

"No...."

"Then what? What else is there in those fucking lying lips of yours, huh? Go on, tell me why I had to Narcan you again!"

"I..." And there is no answer to give him. Turns out, a pathetic sorry is all I had.

"Dave, give him a break. For both our sakes." Cam says to Dave, calming the seething leopard by placing a hand on his shoulder as Dave's breathing lessens, steadying.

I feel the vice grip loosen on my shoulders, and I gently usher them of my naked torso.

Shit, naked.

I look down at myself, not enough to give it away but I'm swathed in gauze, even my arms are. Everywhere.

A shoddily done job, might I add.

Dave stands up, sighs a deep sigh, and sits down on the other rotting couch across from me, crossing his right leg over the left. He sits there, saying nothing, though I can tell he's thinking about another barrage of different ways to call me "stupid."

I don't blame him.

Cameron takes the seat next to me, rather than Dave, which doesn't suprise me. A man of violent outbursts and bipolar rage, standing at six-foot-three and weighing about two hundred pounds, he's a force to be reckoned with.