Axel

56

A X E L

Today i ate.

Today was a good day.

I was seeing her today.

Every week, without fail, when her sweet voice had traveled through the phone; my forehead would kiss the wall in front of me in delight each time.

So yesterday, when she spoke i had felt her smile through her voice as she hinted of what's to come the next day.

Today she would visit me.

I was ready for my skin to mould to hers, for her scent to captivate me and when her lips would touch mine i'd finally breath properly again.

"You lack the usual grouchiness today." My therapist smirked, linking his fingers together.

I nodded, "I didn't throw up after my breakfast."

His eyebrows rose in a proud manner. "Very good, soon you'll get to three meals a day."

I sent him a small smile. His hand moves to pick up his pen, and he rests it on the paper as he loosely scribblers down words.

"Any panic attacks this morning?"

I shook my head. He scribbled some more.

"Nausea?"

I shook my head.

"Still doing the counting method?"

I nodded and he scribbled again.

"How are the withdrawals?" He places the pen down, and leans back into his chair to observe me.

"Minimal, today." I muttered.

My therapist huffed. "It's like you woke up a new man, Axel. Is it a special day today?"

I nodded. "My girl is coming to visit me."

He chuckled. "Very special then." He stared at me for a few moments, tapping the pen against the hard wood of the desk.

After a moment, he places the pen down to interlock his fingers. "You shouldn't rely on someone else to stay clean. It may feel like the only option, but it's not healthy."

I huffed to myself. "You're not the first one to tell me this, sir."

He smiles. "Oh, i know that. I'm just reminding you."

"Then you should know that if it wasn't for her, i wouldn't be here."

I wasn't ignorant enough to deny that they hadn't been helping me. At first the different methods of treatment had seemed silly, almost too weak compared to the hold addiction had on me. But i had slowly began to realise that i was getting better.

It was a relief, not only because my skin hadn't itched so much and i was able to have at least one meal a day but also because it meant i had a real chance of a life when i got out of here.

I had hoped with my addiction, my corrupted thoughts of self harm would leave too.

That wasn't the case.

I needed Rehab to win the fight with addiction, but i needed her to stay alive.

My therapist didn't understand either, couldn't comprehend that a human being could shock the life back into someone with their mere presence.

It's why he felt the need to remind me that love wasn't the cure to addiction.

He didn't understand what she had meant to me.