Chasing Daylight

Draven, December 10, 2014

  I really hope Daemon is okay. I suspected he would be; he trusts Skai and that relieves a lot of tension. Walking over to the Walmart, in the freezing cold is like knives to my skin, so I can’t imagine what Jhenn must be feeling. Okay, that sucked. Women aren’t always generally the weaker sex.

  Meh…

  Walking through the double censored doors is very uncomfortable because the heat from inside makes me hot, itchy and sweaty. I rip my thin coat off of me, leaving just my skintight long sleeved grey shirt on. Jhenn comes in after but doesn’t take her coat off.

  We head straight to the back of the mall where the tiny pharmacy sits. Peter is there, as usual. Peter is the one who always helps us out with Daemon. He’s met Daemon a couple times, but Daemon has never really liked Peter because his name tag is a bright yellow and Daemon cannot stand the color yellow.

  So we stopped bringing Daemon with us when he started screaming and throwing all the medicine bottles to the ground from the shelves (which we then had to pay for, which cost a fucking fortune) and it took three security guards to get him out when they didn’t give us time to explain to them that Daemon is autistic.

  “Hey, Peter.”

  “Draven, how long has it been by now? Another four months?”

  “Too long.” I grin and I know he’s grinning back because of my English accent.

  “Jhenn!” He smiles wider as Jhenn bounds up after me. “The usual?” he suspects, turning around to the large, wide shelves behind him for what he always looks for when we turn up.

  Every day Daemon takes one and a half multivitamins, two omega-3 tablets and a taurine tablet. The B12 vaccine he takes is only when he has meltdowns and he absolutely hate the oxytocin nasal spray which he says burns his nose. He thinks that the burn is the fire the demons try to kill him with, burning him to ashes. He used to believe that every time he takes the injection, the demons are getting him closer to an over-dose but he was proven wrong when he sat in a corner, waiting for him to die; he worked out that he would have four hours left from that day. But since he is still alive, he prefers the vaccine to the tablet because the tablet has a terrible taste to it which he thinks is a fatal poison.

  Peter places the medicines in a brown paper bag and staples a subscription to it for us.

  “So how is Daemon?” He asks us before we turn with the packet.

  “He had a meltdown today.”

  Peter frowns. “Another one? Is he getting better?”

  “He still has his demons around.” I explain, which makes him frown more. Peter is very fascinated by Daemon, and what he experiences.

  With no more further ado, he nods, smiles and wishes us well as we head to the cashier.