The nurses - and Campbell - are insisting me and Kyle sleep separately tonight. Apparently they've been tolerant enough and think we should at least attempt to stay away from each other longer than it takes to pee.
Needless to say, the second I'm in my own bed, I'm wide awake, my cravings are through the roof and my mood halfway to Australia. I wander around restlessly when most of the others are asleep, ignoring the nurse asking me to go back to bed. I'm too busy wondering how to get a hit, wondering how I can sneak back into Kyle's room to listen.
Eventually, I'm too tired to walk around anymore, and I shuffle back to bed, but I still can't sleep. How am I s'posed to sleep on my own in this place? How did I do it when I couldn't have Phil with me all the time?
Phil... I haven't thought about you in so long. I s'pose I haven't needed to. How are you? How does it feel to be clean? Or did you fall back? I can't imagine you did... you're not the type to give in as easily as me.
Would you even remember me as more than a burden?
I bite back tears at that thought. I mean, I never loved him like I love Kyle, but we were friends for so long. The thought of him remembering me as nothing more than a trouble, the thing that held him back, the weird kid no one liked... The weird kid no one liked except for him. Somehow that hurts more than being separated from Kyle for a few hours. I'll get to see Kyle again, and he won't have decided I'm not worth his time - at least, I hope he won't. I'll be lucky if I ever see Phil again, let alone have him care about me again.
Strangely, my last thought before I finally fall asleep, is of Phil.
To say I slept well would be a lie. A big, huge, fucking lie. Each time I woke up from the nightmare, it took me nearly an hour to get back to sleep, and being on my own just made the dream worse. That split second when you can't tell the difference between your dream and reality was hell each time - I was convinced that because I was on my own, I really had killed him and I wasn't on the ward just for a kick up the ass regarding my addictions. So, by the time lunch had been and gone, I was still half asleep, trying to catch just a dreamless hour.
When I wake up, I'm just about ready to scream at someone. I've had enough of that dream. And then I realise I'm kinda clinging onto someone next to me. They cuddle me and I suddenly realise it's Kyle. Relief floods me and I sniffle, wiping away the tears that were threatening to get the better of me.
"Bad dream?" he asks.
"Yeah," I mumble, not wanting to worry him by saying it's worse when I wake up alone. ‘Cause that's not gonna help either of us. He kisses me on the forehead and I sit up.
"Won't Campbell give you anything for them?"
"He said that sleeping pills might react badly with the methadone." Or something along those lines. I only listened as far as "no". He hugs me a little tighter and I let out a sigh.
"You okay?" Oh yeah, I love spending all night either dreaming, or being convinced that you're dead because of me. I nod a little.
"I'm better now. I got kinda paranoid when you didn't show up," he tells me, sounding a teeny bit embarrassed.
"Sorry, gorgeous," I mutter.
He smiles, "It's okay." I rest my head on his shoulder, not really feeling like it's okay at all. I sit there quietly while he plays with my hair wondering how things might be different if Phil was still around.