Occiditur

Truce

Sometime later I made my way to the living room couch again and just as I sat down the phone rang. I picked it up and raspily I spoke into the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Micky!" Peter said in relief.

"Yes, what's wrong?" I asked.

"I was about to ask you the same thing. I've been calling and calling you! I thought you might have you know, overdosed." Peter said sadly.

"No. But I think something is wrong. You need to come over here." I said in pain.

Peter didn't even answer, he hung up and I assumed he was on his way.

I don't know how long it took him to get there. It might have been an hour, minutes, possibly even seconds, but the pain made it seem to be years. I don't even remember Peter knocking. I just looked up and he was standing over me.

"Micky what's wrong?" He kneeled beside me.

"My side, and my head, and I cant think..." I rambled.

"Micky speak clearly, tell me what happened. Start when you woke up." Peter said in concern.

My thoughts were scattered and the pain was so great I couldn't think properly.

"I woke up...and my head hurt. So I took some pain medicine."

"What kind?" Peter said as he examined my side.

"Acetaminophen."

"How many did you take?" He asked in surprise.

"I don't know. Four?" I panted.

"Four?!" Peter yelled.

"Why, what's wrong with that?" I asked.

"Micky, don't you read the labels on anything?!" Peter yelled at me. He ran out of the room and came back a moment later with the pain medicine. "It says it right here, Mick. Two pills every six hours. If taken more than suggested liver failure may occur. It also says that if taken correctly with alcohol that too could cause liver damage." Peter informed me. "I know you've been drinking, I can smell it on you and the evidence is everywhere."

I groaned loudly, "Peter I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Don't apologize to me, you did this to yourself. We need to get you to the hospital. Your liver is failing." Peter dialed a number on my phone. I presumed it was 911. I let myself go to the pain again. I couldn't bare it much longer. I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle screams and tasted blood.

I don't remember the ambulance arriving but I remember them waking me up in it. They told me that they would take me straight to surgery once we reached the hospital.

I drifted back to sleep afterwards and woke up three hours later with only a numb feeling pulsing through my veins. I was in a recovery room, Peter was on my left shaking his head.

"I'm having a hard time believing that you didn't know that you could have died by doing that." He said.

"I didn't." I whispered.

"Yeah."

"Did you call Sam?" I asked.

"Yes. She said she's not coming. She told me that you're only doing this for attention." Peter said.

I sighed and rubbed my face. "Did you tell her she was wrong?" I asked.

"Is she?" Peter inquired.

"Peter? What is with you? Of course I didn't know! I only wanted to stop the pain so I could sleep."

"Okay, friend." Peter said. "The doctor will be in in a little bit. Till then don't do anything stupid." Peter stood up to leave. He laid a hand on my shoulder and said, "stay alive, for me." Then he left.

I was alone for hours until the doctor came in.

"Mr. Dolenz. You seemed to have taken twice the recommended does of Acetaminophen plus you ingested a fair amount of alcohol. Part of your liver was damaged beyond repair. We cut out the damaged part and you will be able to survive with the part of your liver we left. It was a close call. You should read the labels next time." That was all he had to say before he fake smiled and walked away.

Samantha never came. Davy stopped by and so did Mike. My sister came to get me at the end of the week when they let me go. She drove me home. The whole time she cried and refused to talk to me.

I wished she would talk to me. I wished someone would talk to me!