"No." I stared at Campbell for a moment. "You know I can't do that, Damien. The point of this treatment is to get you clean, not to prolong your addiction." I was silent for a few more moments, torn between begging him to up my dose, and beating the shit out of something.
Apparently punching your therapist's desk is a good way to get yourself thrown out by the security type guys.
I sit on the sidewalk, sulking and smoking. And trying to stay where I am. Yeah, I'm in one of those moods. I mean, how can I not be? I feel like I'm dying but I'm not, Kyle's managed to escape living at home while I'm still practically under house arrest and will be for a long time, the one guy I give a shit about I can't even see... I could go on, really. But I think mostly, I'm just really fucking jealous that Kyle's moved out. It makes the thought of having to stay at home with mom and dad just that bit worse.
Eventually I'm yelled at to move and I drag my sorry ass back home. I trudge up to my room, barely noticing my mom trying to talk to me as I walk in. Oh, did I mention my dad took the lock off my door? I dump my bag on my bed and dig around in my desk drawers for something that I've managed to keep myself away from for a pretty long time. I move into the bathroom and lock myself in, turning the shower on.
I strip off my clothes, kicking them into a corner and stare at myself in the mirror.
I hate the person looking back at me. I want to tear him to shreds and never have to see him again.
I nearly manage it, too.
Dinner time was nearly bearable. After my ‘shower' I deliberately put on clothes that I knew would irritate my skin, and the constant stinging gave me something else to focus on. It's a kind of comforting familiarity. After being yelled at for not listening to my dad's ranting over dinner, I wander off into the garage, settling down at my drum kit.
I only stop long enough to reply to Kyle's text, telling him I'll leave the door open. Given that it's already open, I don't have to move from where I am, and I go back to drumming the second my phone's back in my pocket.
"Oi, sexy," I hear from the door way a while later. I look up at Kyle and stop drumming as he smiles at me. I give him a small smile back. He walks over to me, wrapping me in a hug.
"What did Campbell have to say?" he asks as I hug back.
"A big fat ‘no'."
"Sorry to hear it," he says, kissing the top of my head. I shrug and we move over to the couch.
"So how's the new apartment?"
"It's... It'd be better if you were sharing it with me."
"When I can find my car keys, I'll move in," I chuckle, not even halfway joking. He smiles and I lean into him, cuddling back when his arms hook around me. We fall into a familiar silence, just sitting there and enjoying being together. I just have to resist the urge to pick at my cuts. I mean, I'm not under any illusions that he won't find out, but it would probably be best if they were at least a little bit healed first.
At least, I resist the urge to pick them til he falls asleep on me. Once he's unconscious, I pick them all I like.