Stroked

-Chapter 24-

-Chapter 24-

-Amy-

I take two of the pills that are supposed to be prescribed for every day for two weeks and I toss and shove them quickly down the drain. I turn my head to the door of the bathroom to make sure Oliver isn't nearby.

He can't see me do this.

He'd be so ashamed that I'm just this pathetic.

"Amy, dinner's ready!" Oliver shouts and I sigh, twisting the lid back onto the pill container. I put it up in the cabinent above the sink and I grib onto the handles for a quick second. I can already feel a head ache coming aboard.

I stare at myself in the mirror and groan. It's only been a few days but I look like shit. Of course I still feel like it but it's going away a little. My hair is a mess as usual. Some days it's a wonder if I even get the brush through the mad tangles.

My eyes are drooping into endless bags and dark circles and my breath smells horendous. My tanktop and shorts are necessary because I always get hot too easily now.

I shake my head at my image and walk out of the bathroom, flicking the light off as I exit. Dreading another dinner full of questions. It's the same every night and then we part ways. Oliver sleeps on the couch and I sleep on the bed.

I feel terrible about making him sleep on the couch but I'm just scared and I just need some space right now. I don't want him to be in the bed with me anyways not with my head constantly spinning.

"Matt helped out before he went to work so I wouldn't mess anything up. I cooked some meatloaf and vegetables. I hope you like it." Oliver says, staring at me with puppy eyes and coming towards me with stretched out arms.

There's nothing I'd like more than to fall into his embrace but I can't. I walk past him to the table and I watch him stand there for a second like he's frozen to his spot, probably confused. I look down at a plate full of meatloaf and corn with some potatoes. It was really nice of him to do this for me, like every night or so.

"Thank you." I pipe up and Oliver takes the seat across from me.

"Yeah, sure." He stares at me, not even picking up his fork so I do to ignore his gaze. I start cutting up a piece and the thick silence is pretty loud in ways. I actually wish Matt was here so he could just say something and not make everything this horrible.

"How're you feeling today?" Oliver asks, but this is already is tenth time or so asking me this question today alone.

"Better." I usually reply, or fine, or something casual that doesn't give away too much. Yes, my stomach is doing cartwheels and that scares me.

"That's good." Oliver pulls up his bangs with a hand and looks like he's about to crumble from exhaustion. I look at his sad, gray eyes and feel terrible.

"You can have the bed back. I'm sorry about making you sleep on the couch. I'll take it." I say, reaching over for a napkin and Oliver grabs my hand.

It's been one of the few physical contacts we've made in a long time.

His fingers rest upon mine and they are warm even though they're bony little things.

"Don't even think that you're going to sleep on the couch. We can sleep in the bed together like we used to." Oliver's eyes fill with so much hope. His emotions are switching off and on constantly like the tap.