Loser II || WlW

Seventeen

     Every doctor will tell you the same thing. You should never stop taking your medication cold turkey.

As I make my way through the dark garage, Dr. Miller's warning rings loud in my ears.

The withdrawal symptoms can get really bad. Especially since you're on multiple medications and the dose is so high.

I laughed at the time. I couldn't imagine life without medication. Couldn't imagine living without it, so I assured her I would never quit the meds cold turkey.

But now, I wasn't given an option.

I wipe the sweat from my forehead and hold onto the wall to steady myself.

Where is that truck? I know I saw a truck the other morning with that man sitting in it.

But besides cardboard boxes, rock salt, and other snow gear, there's nothing.

Maybe there's another garage, I think but when I round the corner toward the door, a man emerges from the shadows, swinging a knife overhead.

I jump back, trip over a sled, and land on my butt. My heart is pounding so hard; it might rip through my chest. I'm sucking in breath after shaky breath and holding my arms up to block any incoming swings he might take but the man is gone, just a shadow that belongs to a tall Santa decoration.

A crack of light shines through the garage as the door swings open.

"Jordan?" Brittany squints into the darkness. "Jordan, you're bleeding. Are you okay? Why are you on the ground?"

She takes my hands and pulls me to my feet, examining the cut on my arm. "Who did this to you?"

I shake my head and wipe the sweat from my face as my heart slows to a steady pace. "I tripped. I must have caught my arm on something on my way down." I decide against telling her about the withdrawal side effects of quitting my medication right now. It will just give her another reason to stay behind when I tell her Arlo agreed to take her down the mountain in a few hours.

Brittany's eyebrows pull together as she looks at me. "Are you sure? It's pretty bad."

She's right. It doesn't look like a scratch. It looks like a knife wound, deep and slender.

"There's no one here but me, Britt."

She looks around the garage as if she doesn't believe me, but lets the subject drop. "How are you feeling?" She holds a hand to my forehead. "You're sweating a lot for how cold it is."

I force smile. "It's just the medication. I'm lucky this is the worst of it. I can handle a little sweat."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "You're acting weird."

"I'm okay." I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her forehead. "I promise."

I hate lying to her but if it's the only way to get her to go down the mountain with Arlo then I'll lie until she's safe. Until then, I just have to figure out how to stop jumping every time I think someone is lurking in the shadows. 

***

How are we all doing today? I've been getting more messages than usual about my readers having difficult weeks. So, are ya'll good? What's goin on? 

My overprotective lesbian was activated. Why are all my gaybies sad and upset? WHO DO I NEED TO FIGHT? 

I'm personally very irritated about the new Christmas romcom with WLW main characters, starring Kristen Stewart because it's just another fucking coming out story. But I guess it's literally the entire reason that I write stories about WLW who don't need to come out. 

ANYWAY, I hope you guys are doing well, and if you're not, I hope your week turns around.  And, of course, if you need someone to talk to, find yourself in my messages. I'm always willing to chat, as most of you already know (: 

We've got one smaller update for Red Zoned scheduled for Monday and after that, we're going to jump back into full-length updates so if you noticed that this one was a bit short, my apologies. It's been an extremely busy week. 

Okay, that's it. That's all I have for today. Have a good one!

***