Glitches

Chapter 3 - Medicine

When I woke it all came back, rushing over me like waves crushing into the shore. I wanted to go back to sleep and forget about it. Or just scream out in the room.

But that would just make Vickie come, and then I had to tell her about it. And I couldn't do that. She had so much else to think about. And my paranoid mind was not something I wanted to add to her list of worries.

My thoughts got interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

"Knock, knock," a sweet voice called behind the pale wood.

"Come in," I answered, my voice heavy with sleep.

Vickie opened the door and walked in slowly. She had a glass in each of her hands. One of them filled with a thick brown liquid. I felt the bed sinking as she took a seat beside me.

"Here."

She handed me the glass with the brown liquid and I carefully took it. I shook the glass in small circles, examining the liquid colour the sides of the glass in disgust.

"Just drink it Stephanie," Vickie sighed.

I frowned at the glass, then glanced up at her. She nodded at the glass in my hand.

"You promised me that you would take it today."

"Yeah, but that doesn't make it look less like it could kill me."

"That's true. But it's that or migraine attacks." She chuckled at my disgusted face.

I sighed heavily through my nose. She was right.

And with one last breath I placed the glass at my mouth and drank the medicine in one gulp. The familiar taste of mud and gasoline exploded in my mouth, making me cringe.

It was probably just a mental thing, but even though I hated that stuff I still felt an urge to drink it. As if I needed it in my system. The thought always made me think of alcoholics.

How alcohol had become such a big part of their lives that they couldn't just let go. It had become a part of their system.

That was how I felt at the moment. I couldn't just let go of my medicine. Even though it tasted like rubbish.

"That wasn't so hard, right?" Vickie asked.

I handed back the glass, looking at her with a lifted eyebrow. The taste still lingered on my tongue.

Vickie handed me the other glass with water, and I drank the content quickly to get rid of the horrible taste.

When I had finished both glasses and handed them back to Vickie, she stood up and walked out in the kitchen with me following after.

"So..." she said, "what are you going to do when you are coming to school?"

It was the same thing every morning. She would ask the same question, and I would answer. It did annoy me sometimes. I was seventeen, not a toddler who forgets everything if they doesn't repeat it every day. But it had become a part of our morning routine by then, so I actually didn't mind it much anymore.

"I will not get in any fights. And I will not get any cuts," I muttered, not even trying to hide the annoyance in my tired voice.

"And why is that?" she interrupted in a casual tone, pouring herself a glass of water from the tap of the sink.

"Because, if you let the aggressive part of you take control, then people will never trust you," I quoted her. "And because, I never have tried getting hurt bad physically, so it's best if you are around when it happens so you can help."