The Broken Mirror {COMPLETED}

Sober

The sedative begins to wear off and I feel myself regaining consciousness as the pain begins to increase. I lay in the wet sheets that I have soaked in sweat. My red hair draped over my face and shoulders. There is an IV attached to me, and I know my grandmother got all of this, allowing me to go through withdrawal in my bedroom.

I can see Xavier sitting at my window seat with a sketchpad in his hand. What I see almost every time I wake up. I don't stir, so he doesn't know I am awake. We haven't talked much, although I haven't been awake much for the last few days. Hallucinations and aggression kind of made it impossible to talk. He looks up to study me for a minute and then drops his head back and continues to sketch.

The night he dragged me out of the club I passed out in the car, but when I woke up the next morning, he was still furious. He was ready to start a war with me. A battle I knew I was going to lose.

"I'm sorry," was all I could manage to say when I woke up. He refused to acknowledge me for a few minutes. I was in his room, laying on his bed. He was at his desk drawing in a sketchpad until he heard me. He walks over to me and stands over me.

"I told your grandmother and father," he informed me. I shut my eyes, knowing that this is about to get extremely bad. "Don't apologize."

"But you're mad at me," I respond to his comment. He shook his head.

"I hate apologies," Xavier stated. I look down at his sheets. I can feel wear I sweated out the molly. My body is craving for my thermos.

"I'm thirsty," I tell him trying to get out of bed. He pulls out my thermos.

"For this?" He asks me. "You said you stopped after New Year's."

"I'm sorry!"

"I said stop apologizing! You lied! You think apologizing is going to make your lies go away?" He yells back at me. My heart feels like it is about to jump out of my chest. I knew it, we've only been together for less than two weeks and I'm already screwing this shit up.

"So, how am I supposed to let you know I'm sorry?" I ask him.

"Be honest!" He tells me. "Why didn't you say anything?"

I think about why I've been lying. "The party, I knew I couldn't stop while trying to get ready for the party. I would go awhile, and I would start to feel sick," I explain to him. He shakes his head at me.

"Bullshit. That party could have been canceled. You being sober is more important," He replies to me. I can feel my eyes getting heavy with tears. They begin to roll down my cheek and I wipe them off my face. I'm already starting to feel sick and I pull my legs to myself. He sits down at the edge of the bed staring down on the floor. "I know what I signed onto when I chose to be with you, but you can't lie to me, or it's over."

I rock back and forth, mainly because I am in pain, but my heart hurts just as much. "I'll stop," I said. He looks at me, questioning whether to believe me. He slowly nods and gets off the bed and leaves his room. Within a few hours, the symptoms of withdrawal began to get worse. When they did, he took me to my home for my grandmother to look after me. She got the supplies she needed to take care of me, but he has not left my side.

When I wake up, he's either sketching or wiping the sweat off my face. When I am lost to a hallucination, he's usually holding me, and I know it's him even though my mind is not all there. Now I lay here, days into withdrawal, and he is still here. I finally move to let him know I am awake.