30 Days In Rehab

Day 18: Thursday (Part 1!)

I open my eyes to find an old, dark skinned man staring at me, a warm smile on his face. He blinks at me, "hello Stephanie. I am Dr. Willaby, I will be taking over your recovery from now on." He sounds like Morgan Freeman. "I don't need a new doctor, Darren has been doing well enough." I defy. "I'm not saying he isn't, but you are sitting here with a broken foot. And I was told that nurses heard you speaking to yourself."

I sigh and shake my head, bringing my blanket up to cover my nose. "Do you disagree? With you speaking to yourself? Was there someone there?" He prods, his voice gentle. I shrug and tug my blanket up, covering my nose, and closing my eyes. "I know you do not want to talk but as of right now, you have a week to get it together before your precious Darren goes to the director and extends your stay. And it will not be a short extension; when Darren believes that someone needs more time, he makes sure that they have all the time in the world." He whispers. I open my eyes slightly, peeking at him, "Why does it matter? Why should I care?"

Willaby tilts his head at me, "You, Stephanie, are a ball of confusion, aren't you? You want to leave but then you can careless if you go." "Well, you have me all figured out." I mutter. "At least one of us does. But, it matters because you have places to go outside of this facility. I considered your folder before I came here... I know about everything that has led up to you being admitted here against your will. I know about the detective, the best friend, the strip cub that is almost ready to be open to the public, I know everything. I also know how they have been trying to treat you, and how it has been failing."

"They gave you an outlet to voice your problems but never gave you a solution-- a real solution. A punching bag?" he waves his hand, "that tactic where they pretended your friend was someone else? Psh, amateur. Those were temporary fixes, they obviously didn't work."

"So, what the fuck would you do?" I voice, "You're putting down everything that someone else has tried to do for me, what are you going to do differently?"

He grins at me, "You see, I am a different kind of doctor. When an animal is in distress, it wants to go to a place of comfort with an object of comfort. So, Stephanie, I will be taking you out of this place," I lift my head up, allowing my blanket to fall, " and you are getting something of comfort."

"And what is that?"

He chuckles, "Mary Jane, Reefer, mary-ju-wana." I sit up completely, "You're letting me go outside and you're giving me drugs?" "I'm not going to repeat myself, you know that is what I said."

"Are you always an asshole?" I dig.

"Are you always a pussy?" He retorts, verbally knocking the wind out of me. I crack a smile, "Pussy's are strong, they take a pounding." He purses his lips, "Then maybe I should call you a pair of balls because with one hit, you're out for the count." I roll my eyes, "I'm sure you're not supposed to talk to me like that."

"And I'm sure that you're supposed to respect your elders, but I guess we are both not doing what were supposed to do. So, whenever you disrespect me, I will disrespect you. Now, if you respect me? I will still disrespect you because I am always an asshole." He wheezes out a laugh as my jaw drops. Old bastard. But I cannot lie, this old man would probably be my most favorite person in the world if we had met in a different time and place. He sobers up and sighs, "You're fun to mess with, but I'm afraid, we must begin. So, get up, put a shoe on your good foot and meet me in the hallway."

He stands and begins walking to the door but pauses when I call out to him, "Hey, where's my weed?!" I ask. He looks over his shoulder, "Girl, get 'cho ass up first. Damn young people, always wanting something for nothing." and he opens the door and walks out.