His mouth was dry- so dry he could feel the sandpapery texture of his tongue as he swallowed. His head throbbed in unison of his heart, and his skin felt grimy with sweat and invisible dirt. His stomach felt like it had been burned with acid then stabbed, and if it weren't empty he would have gotten sick.
If this is Hell, they need to step up. Cole thought cynically, blearily opening his eyes, and immediately regreted it. The light caused the throbbing to earth-shattering pounding, so he closed his eyes again and groaned.
"Cole?" A watery feminine voice asked shrilly. A shaky hand suddenly brushed his cheek, then ran itself through his hair. "Cole, baby, you awake?"
Tawny eyes opened, blinking rapidly at the severe light, eliciting another muted groan. Cole looked at his mother with dazed confusion and then an anxious smile. Florence Sanders clasped his hands and sobbed, grinning back and crooning about her baby, her lovely baby. After a few minutes of running his tired thumbs over her knuckles, a knock came from his cream colored metal door.
"Come in." His mother called, and a tall doctor with salt-and-pepper hair stepped in, smiling awkwardly at Cole. He looked like an actor on a hospital soap opera- the ones middle-aged mom's fawned over, what with his blue eyes and strong jaw. Instantly, Cole was bitter and angry, and internally bristled. He didn't want any damn sympathy from Dr. Perfect and his sickening syrupy smile. It was his choice to get that bottle of painkillers from his kitchen cabinet and take the bottle, made easier to swallow with swigs of red wine, and he knew he was going to die. Except, well, he didn't.
"Good afternoon Mr. Sanders. I'm Doctor Mackenzie." The man stuck out his hand. Cole stared at it, but didn't bother to take it, instead glancing back to the man's face. The hand dropped out of the air slowly, and Doctor Mac cleared his throat. "So, we pumped your stomach last night. You're safe. We flushed your system before the medication could really do any damage. You can be discharged in a few days. You got lucky, kid." The man smiled brightly.
Yeah, you're a godamned hero. What do you want from me, applause?
"Thank you." Was the actual words that tumbled out of the young man's mouth. The Doctor nodded, grin doubling in size. He turned to his mother and handed her a business card and muttered something to her before nodding to Cole and saying goodbyes. Instantly Cole turned to his mom, honey eyes smoldering like a dying fire.
"What'd he give you?" His asked, voice flat. He was still groggy and slightly peeved at the Doctor for treating him like he was pathetic kid. The woman handed him the card, and he took it, wincing at the bite of the IV needle in his arm.
Doctor Patterson, PhD in Pyschology.
"A therapist?" His voice rung out incredously. Mrs. Reeves frowned deeply.
"Cole, look at you. Lying in a hospital bed, barely escaping killing yourself! Don't even try and say you don't need help!"
He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, tears burning the inside of his eyelids. He had tried to reach out, only to be ignored. How would it be any different this time, except a quack being pumped fat with cash?
