polaroid angel - dreamnotfound

˖⋆࿐໋₊ 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺-𝘴𝘪𝘹

"welcome to the aac hotline, my name is kristin, may i have your name or would you like to stay anonymous?"
"u-uhh, george," i stutter, "it's george."

kristin's voice is cheerful and confident, but soothing at the same time. she sounds like she's from the south.

"are you calling in regards of yourself or someone else, george?" she wonders.
"someone else, m-my boyfriend."
"okay, and would you like to state your boyfriend's name?"

my mind goes blank. you could hear the cogs turning inside.

"uhm, no, not now," i mumble, lacking other responses.
"alright. what state are you in?"
"new york."
"okay.."

i hear nails clashing with a computer keyboard. when she's finished typing she starts asking me questions again.

"so, could you tell me the reason you called today?"

"well, my boyfriend, he.. he told me a while ago that he does cocaine as a party drug sometimes. and he keeps insisting that he's not addicted, that he'll quit on his own... yeah. but i don't think he's telling the truth. last night he came home and he was totally wasted, he threw up and admitted to taking coke again at some party."

i swallow the lump in my throat, changing position on the bed.

"i-i'm just so worried for him. he drinks every night. not until he gets drunk but he always has a glass of whiskey or wine or something in his hand. i don't- i don't wanna lose him.."

"do you know if he keeps the drugs at home? have you seen any ziplock bags around, maybe in the trash?"
"no, i haven't."
"do you think he uses it daily?" she hums.
"i don't know," i sigh, "he's- i mean he's normal most of the time."

"try to look closely for small, physical signs that could indicate that he's under the influence, like dilated pupils, restlessness, fidgeting, and other erratic behaviors."
"he's usually energetic but, i'm pretty sure that's just his personality."

"does he sniffle a lot? that's a typical sign."
"y-yeah? i thought it was just due to allergies..."
"it could be but, in this situation it's most likely due to frequent cocaine abuse."
"okay.."

my hands are shaking. i've got trouble holding my phone up.

"now, i'd like to ask you some sensitive questions, if that's okay? you don't have to answer them if you don't want to, it's completely optional, but it could give me a better understanding of your current situation."
"sure," i croak, mentally preparing myself.

"does this suspected addiction affect his daily life a lot? for example his performance at work, or engagement in hobbies?" kristin wonders, typing something on her computer once again.
"not really, i guess. sometimes when he's hungover at work he's kind of sluggish, but it's not that bad."

"okay. and your relationship, has it suffered because of this?"
"i-i don't know, most of the time it's just me being worried about him. we're not close to a breakup or anything."
"do you argue a lot?"
"we've never really argued," i say, thinking, "i've gotten upset with him, like last night when he came home so late, but.. nothing more really."

there's a slight pause. the empty noise echoing from the phone's speaker makes me way too anxious.

"has he.. has he ever harmed you, physically?" she utters softly, "has he hit you, or threatened you with violence?"
"no no no, not at all. as i said, we've- we've never fought before."

dream would never do that to me.

"has he ever been pushy or violent sexually? forced you to do something you didn't really want to do, or coerced you into having sex with him even when you didn't feel like it?"
"no," i answer, without hesitation.

"okay, so you are not in danger in any way, am i correct?"
"yes."
"does he put other people in danger? does he drive while under the influence, or act violently towards others?"
"not that i know of."

i patiently await yet another question, but it never comes.

"well, what do i do?" i whimper, the lump in my throat suffocating me, "c-can i get him into rehab or, or what?"

kristin masks a sigh on the other end of the line.

"to be honest with you, it might be hard," she starts, "most rehab centers and facilities are filled right now, it's a hectic time of year.."

"what? so you're telling me he can't get help?"
"no, no, don't worry, he absolutely can but, from what you're describing... it sounds like his situtation isn't dire. i'm looking at the centers in new york, and they've all got waiting lists unless it's an emergency case. he's not hurting you or anyone else and his quality of life hasn't severely worsened as a result of his drug use, so he will sadly not be prioritized."

"but-"
"i'd advise him to look up the nearest facilities on our website and contact them directly."
"but he refuses to go to any sort of rehab! he just says he'll fix it on his own and that's it!"

i take a deep breath as a feeble attempt to calm myself down.

"how do i get him treated against his will?"
"i'm afraid he doesn't quite meet the requirements for forced treatment," she explains, "even if you got him arrested for possession those short term treatments might not be helpful, and i doubt you'd want to hand him over to the police anyway."

"so what you're fucking saying is that he's not sick enough yet? he hasn't ruined his life enough yet? am i supposed to just sit on my ass and watch him slowly destroy himself until he meets your stupid fucking requirements? huh? is that what you want?"

i don't care if i'm being aggressive at this point. i've had enough. this woman straight up told me there's no help for dream, unless he decides to get it himself. and dream is a stubborn soul. he won't budge. he'll never admit he's got a problem.

will i have to watch the love of my life die a slow, heart-wrenching death, succumbing to his demons? will i have to stand there on the day of his funeral, blaming myself for his demise? millions of irrational thoughts create a tornado inside of my head. it hurts. i want it to stop.

"that's not what i mean, george. try your best to communicate with him. assure him that rehab is the best option. if he doesn't accept that straight away, you could try a regular therapist first."
"you don't understand a fucking thing. you don't-"

i can't stop the tears from falling anymore.

"fuck you!" i scream before hanging up.

it's getting hard to breathe.