Stealing Desire

Jeremy wanders to the familiar broken down convenient store. He slowly slid though the white rusted door, looking around to see if anyone was around. No one in sight that he could see, he slipped in without notice. After getting into the back room he grabbed the closest pack of beer and quickly shoved it under his large jacket. Grabbing a few vodkas around him, he put them under his clothes wherever there was space. Jeremy looked around feeling as though someone was watching him. He just shook off the feeling. After spending a minute in the storage room, he slid the door open a crack and left as quietly as possible.

The cool air whipped at his face; he pulled a cigarette out of his left pocket and his lighter out of my right pocket. Lighting it, he inhaled deeply then took a long distressing puff. As per usual, Jeremy wandered around town for a half hour in the cold. He stops at the shack where he usually sleeps, out in the far woods. The dead looking trees surrounded the red small shack with a cracked window that was far from civilization. Since it was a cool fall day, Jeremy grabbed a beer from under his jacket. Downing it, he felt a bit warmer. Jeremy walked up the creaky wooden step and pushed the door open.

"You cant live like this forever," he heard a much too fimiliar voice squeak behind him.

"Don't tell me how to live," Jeremy grunted.

"I was your girlfriend I know-"

"Was," Jeremy emphasized, "now leave, get out of my life." The man glared at Kathleen.

"-I know you better than others," Jeremy rudely scoffed. Know him? She broke up with him. For stealing drugs for his first time, What does she know? Jeremy thought to himself

Deciding to ignore her, he entered the small shack and took a right going to a small room with a beat up couch. He sat on the couch and took out all the drinks from under his clothes. Three bottles of whiskey, a bottle of wine, vodka, and three beers, Jeremy grinned because he knew he was going to be all set for the night. Finally, he laid down on the old ripped couch and then drifted off to sleep.

The next morning brought an awful hang-over. Jeremy slowly got off the couch squinting from the morning sun and decided to go out for another wander. He stepped out and grabbed his bottle of whiskey, drinking it straight from the bottle ignoring the burning sensation in his throat. Jeremy, now drunk, wandered out in the woods around the shack. Jeremy's mind told him to get sober, but he ignored those voices.

Jeremy knew he shouldn't be doing drugs and alcohol but he couldn't help himself. Since dropping out of college, he had became a full time alcoholic. Turning to alcohol was all Jeremy knew, following in his fathers footsteps.

"Bastard," Jeremy swore out loud thinking of his father. He remembers how he would throw his beer bottles across the room and how drunk he constantly was. Jeremy took another gulp of vodka trying to ignore the memories.

Walking around town, he didn't know where he was. Lost in the woods and still drunk, he looked up seeing a parking lot just hardly out of the woods.

"Finally," Jeremy slurred under his breath to no one in particular. He closed his eyes and went face first into a tree, taking a few steps back his eyes widened. He shook it off and walked toward the nearest store that sold drugs and alcohol. He went to reach for the partially opened back door when large hands shot over his mouth and held onto his arms from behind.

"Quit stealing, boy," a man grunted from behind. Thoughts clouded Jeremy's drunken mind. Jeremy's arms shot out, he turned around and went to punch the man in the face. The man grunted and put Jeremy in a chokehold.

"What.." Jeremy breathed out baffled. The mysterious man shoved Jeremy's head up against the wall, Jeremy grunted. Now dizzy, he blindly punched forward. The man dodged his punch quickly and chuckled at his poor defense attempt, and punched his left eye. Before blacking out, Jeremy saw a fuzzy looking figure in front of him.
--
Jeremy laid there on something feeling more comfortable than his normal broken down couch. He swore under his breath, while scenarios fluttered through his mind. Had he fallen asleep while stealing and get sent to a mental institution? Did he fall asleep in the furniture store while intoxicated again? The last thing he remembered was leaving the shack and drinking. Tracing his every foot step in his head he kept thinking. He couldn't seem to open his eyes. On Jeremy's right side, there was the sound of a door slamming making him jump. He knew he was in a mental institution now, he could feel it. He swore again, becoming angry. Feeling groggy, Jeremy squinted trying to open his eyes. Around him were white walls. Snapping his eyes to his right, he saw a medical device. A blurry figure walked into the room.

"I'm a doctor, Doctor Tom," a man explained. Then he told Jeremy what had happened to him. Tom had bright blue eyes, orange fluffy hair, and was average height. Saying someone had found him passed out on the cement behind a store. Annoyed, Jeremy looked down at his state. One of his arms was wrapped in gauze; Jeremy reached up to feel more gauze on his neck. While he felt under his eye, it hurt, making him envision a bruise around his eye.

"How are you doing?" Doctor Tom asked Jeremy.

"Im actually feeling great," Jeremy lied, hoping to leave the hospital early as possible.

"That's great, you should be able to leave soon," Doctor Tom told him.

"Even better," Jeremy responded. Doctor tom left the room. Jeremy sighed, he didn't want to be there staring at blank walls. He thought back to how drunk he had gotten. Reaching into his pocket, Jeremy felt for his bottle of whiskey finding an empty pocket. Not feeling it, he reached into his other pocket where his cigarettes were usually kept.

None.

Jeremy let out a huff, what would he do now? He really hated that place now. Nothing to do, no where to wander. Jeremy thought about his last five years. When he was nineteen and twenty, Jeremy went to art school. Then Jeremy found himself always doing the same thing, always painting the same paintings, sculpting the same sculptures, he found himself depressed. If he had enough money, and a second chance for art school, he would take those opportunities. Jeremy turned to drugs and alcohol, which made him happy. Now, he feels as though he's in a bottomless pit. He doesn't choose to do alcohol and drugs, he cannot stop. He feels ashamed when he is sober, remembering the opportunities he has given up. Jeremy wanted to become sober, but just couldn't bring himself up to it. Jeremy felt like he was in a bottomless pit.

"Am I depressed?" Jeremy thought out loud.