Oblivion

10

The rehab ward had grown tiring. There was only so much hospital food, hospital telly, hospital corridors one person could take. Aside from the daily trips down to the psychology department, Dan had spent over three months in the same place. And that had been the longest time, by far, that he'd stayed in the same place. It had made him feel restless, uncomfortable, his mind had too much to dwell on as he just sat in his bed all day, everyday. He was itching to get out, even if only for a few hours, just to get some fresh air.

He'd put enough weight on. Every pound that they had told him to. When he looked in the mirror now he saw a much more familiar face. He'd opened up to the doctors about his drugs and alcohol abuse, despite his reservations. Aside from Kyle and Sam, there wasn't a person on earth who knew the depths of his addiction. The lengths he'd gone to to find money to pay for grams of, well anything he could get his hands on. The thieving, pick pocketing, the deceit. Even the slash on his arm had healed nicely. He couldn't understand why he was still being held there.

'What else do i need to tell you to get out? I've explained how I ended up here. I've told you everything you wanted to know.'

'Daniel, we are very impressed with your progress.' The psychologist, Mrs Turnbull, was patronising. She treated him like a child. He hadn't been very taken by her to begin with, but thanks to Kyle's persistence that she was just doing her job, he'd realised that it was simply her technique to get him to talk. But now as he sat in her room, nervously playing with his hands, he just wanted her to tell him he could leave. 'But I'm not fully confident that you are ready to enter the outside world. Yet.'

'But, what else can I do? I want to leave.' There was no doubt that he was still extremely terrified of leaving the hospital. The world seemed like such a big, daunting place now, from the confines of his small room. He felt safe there. But he no longer felt like he was getting any better. He felt stagnant. He needed freedom. Or at least the change of scenery at Kyle's house.

'How do you think you would cope if faced with a situation where alcohol is involved?'

'Well, obviously I wouldn't drink.'

'But it will be around you.'

'Don't you think, after everything I've gone through, I would throw it all away?' He felt himself getting angry. It would do him no favours to start shouting at the one person who held the key to his freedom.

'It is a completely different world out there to in here. I have seen men stronger than you fail within the first few weeks. I would rather discharge you when you are one hundred percent, than rush things and see you back to square one in a years time. I know it seems harsh, but I hope you'll see in the long run, that it's for the best.'

'But I don't want to drink or use. I want to be better.'

'I have no doubt of that. But theres more to it than that. There are components in your brain that have grown to need whatever substance, be it alcohol, cocaine, heroine. Those components will be with you for the rest of your life. Right now they are asleep. We have dulled them with medication and will power. But one day, maybe tomorrow or maybe in ten years, they will surface and you need to know how to defeat that urge. My job is to teach you and coach you on how to cope when that moment arrises.'

He moped down the corridor slowly back up to his room. His hospital issue dressing gown ties dragged along the floor behind him. He traced the brown plastic handrail lazily with his fingers. Anything to delay his return to the ward. He could probably walk this route with his eyes closed. He'd test that theory another time, he thought. He looked up at the sign post above the lifts. His ward was on the next floor up. The floor below was maternity and labour. And below that...

Exit.

His mind raced. Just ten minutes outside. No one would notice he'd gone. He'd just tell the nurses he got lost. Before he'd really made up his mind, his feet had taken him to the stairs and he was running.