Opposites ~ n.h (rewriting)

Chapter 31: Hell on earth.

Niall's POV. 

Here I am, two weeks since I came here. Sitting up straight in my bed for the first time in 12 days. My room is small, boring and simple. The walls are a greyish white colour and the beds are made of strong Iron, ice cold, too small and with uncomfortable matrasses. Nothing like the one I have at home, wooden, big and with a nice matress that doesn't have springs you feel all the way up your spine. Nothing has a colour, it's either grey, black or white. I feel like I'm in an insane asylum, one of those asylums you always see in movies. 

Like I said before, I'm sitting up straight for the first time in 12 days. I collapsed on day 3, I was begging for them to let me go so I could see Liz and Luna and have a sniff of coke. I new it was going to be hard but I never thought I would be laying in bed for nearly 2 weeks. The time I've been in bed I did nothing but throw up, sleep and cry. Today, I feel a little better. I don't feel nauseous anymore and I have much more energy. 

The psychologist visits me every day. He talks to me about my past and helps me deal with what I've done. He tells me things like 'most people have a messed up youth, even the ones who seem perfect in our eyes' and that makes me feel better. I'm not the only one with issues coming from a traumatic past. A lot of people have been through horrible stuff. 

On the days I didn't feel like talking, he did the talking. He would tell me about his life. He has a wife, second marriage with 4 kids. Two are from his first marriage and the other two from this one. He has a boy, twins and then another girl. He would tell me about how his eldest grew up and how he used to be a trouble maker, but now he's in college working really hard, just like me. He tells me about forgiveness and gives me all these thinks to think about. 

I asked for a notebook because of that. My head was too full with thoughts after only a day already and I had to write it all down. I found out I liked to write poetry, the poems soon turned into songs. I even had a melody with every lyric I wrote and new how I would play them on my guitar when I got home. 

At the moment the nurses are discussing if I should be taken to a doctor. I have lost 8 kilograms in 12 days. I barely eat, but I drink bottle after bottle of water since I tend to sweat loads now. They want to put me on a diet to gain weight. I honestly don't think my stomach will be able to stand so many carbs already so I silently pray that they'll wait a few days. 

"Mr. Horan-" I sigh in annoyance. They have to stop calling me that, I know I'm a patient and all but still I'm 21, they don't have to call me that. It makes me feel old. "Mr. Horan, we decided that you are ready to start eating normally again. Step by step. You're losing too much weight so we're going to take you to the dining-room to have a light breakfast." The woman who's name I learned is Amanda walks out of the room to get me a wheel chair. 

She walks back in and I take place in the chair and she brings me to the dining-room. She parks me at a table next to Josh, a guy who's been here for nearly 2 months getting rid of his heroine addiction. He told me it was his third time back here. His ex-girlfriend keeps telling him he isn't allowed to see his daughter unless he goes to rehab. 

All these people have so many stories that go with all kind of addictions, some being addictions I have never ever heard before. Not only people with a messed up past or fucked up lifes come here, I was surprised that there are also people who were succesfull bussiness people. Workaholics. Yes, I don't know how but they litterally have an addiction to working. How? Why would you like working so much you get addicted to it? Oh well. That's probably also how people think about a drug addiction. 

Amana comes back with a small plate with just two crackers on it, Normally I would give her a look for giving me such a small amount of food but nowadays my stomach turns at the sight of two crackers.