Author's disclaimer: I don't know OTH or any of its characters.
A/N: I cannot apologise enough for having neglected my updates for soooooooooo long. Family and health problems have kept me away from writing for a very long time, and even though I guess that none of the readers who were interested in this story is waiting for an update anymore, I just didn't want to leave it unfinished, so here I come again. I'm so sorry.
DAY 1
I've decided to stay here a bit longer and go to therapy. Dr. Holmes told me I could stay here and start it, and go somewhere else (Tree Hill, for example) and continue there, but I think it's better if I go home just when I'm completely recovered.
I come into the room and look around trying to find a friendly face, but as I watch the sadness in the eyes of all these people, it soon becomes clear that this is not the best place to make friends. Then, a man in his forties comes in and says in a kind voice that we are going to start.
We all take a seat and listen to the man, who introduces himself saying that his name is Raymond and that he's going to help us through this hard way. After a brief speech about the importance of our force and self-confidence, and about how great is the fact that we have found the strength to go to therapy, he invites anyone who wants to speak to go to the front and talk about his or her experience.
We all start to look around uncomfortably, trying to avoid his gaze. Someone coughs, and the man gives us a kind smile while we just let the time pass by.
Then a guy around thirty stands and goes to the front.
-Hi, I'm Erik and I'm an addict.
Some people say in monotone voices:
-Hello, Erik.
God, this is just like in the movies. Could it be more pathetic? The guy keeps on talking.
-This is not the first time I come to one of this meetings, so I guess it's easier for me to come to the front and speak about my experience, since I've heard many people like you and me telling their story. I won't say that I became an addict the first time I got drunk, because I was fourteen and it was at a birthday party. My hangover was so terrible that I didn't drink alcohol again until I was twenty!
Some people laugh. He's good, he's connecting with the audience, I think. He continues:
-At eighteen, I started a band. I was the bass player. The first two years were hard, but really fun. Playing in clubs of friends of our friends, school balls… Then, we got someone's attention and we recorded a CD. Of course, it was not a big deal. The record company was really rubbish and the place where we recorded the CD was not much better than the garage where we used to practise, but it opened some doors for us. We even made a kind of tour! Then, we started to become famous around the city (and being famous in New York is not that bad) and we started to be invited to fashion parties. The first time I tried cocaine, a beautiful girl who was probably underage and who wanted to become a model or an actress was offering herself to sleep with me if I let her participate in our video clip. She said she would share with me the cocaine she had got from the guy who was organizing the party. It was a weird feeling…
Erik's voice fades away as I remember my own "first time" with Kyle at the club. It all comes to my mind again, our first night together, the next day, when he asked me to move with him, the first "drug party", the first argument, the first time he punched me, a mixture of memories and emotions that I just can't leave behind… Now Erik's voice seems to be so distant I can barely hear what he's saying. I feel like suffocating and I need to go out of the room looking for air to breath. I stand and some people look at me, but with no real interest. Erik looks at me too while I'm leaving, but he doesn't stop talking. Is it rude what I'm doing? Are we allowed to leave the meeting like that? Well, I couldn't care less. I just need to run out of that room. In the corridor, I lay against a wall and I breathe deeply for five or six times. I sit on the floor and close my eyes. I feel hot tears running down my cheek, but after some minutes I feel much more relaxed. It seems that crying has been good for me. I don't know how long I've been sitting there when I hear a voice next to me.
-Hey, are you OK?
I open my eyes in surprise, I had forgotten I was sitting on the floor of a corridor, with my eyes closed and my cheeks wet with tears. Erik is looking at me and seems a bit worried.
-Yeah. I'm sorry I've left like that. I didn't mean to be rude…
-Oh, never mind. It was your first meeting, wasn't it? Things like that happen to many people the first time they come. They feel anxious, I suppose. In many cases, they have gone through terrible things, and it's not easy to face certain memories…
-Tell me about it. I've just left hospital. My boyfriend sent me there after throwing me down the stairs and killing our baby-my voice fades away when I say these last words. I try to smile, but it's kind of pathetic.
-Sorry, it must have been really sad. Do you want to talk about it?-he says, pointing to the room where the addicts are telling their pains.
-What? No, not really… Not now. I think I'm not ready yet. I want to recover, I want to be free from all this drug shit, but I don't think I'm able to tell a bunch of guys I don't know how my life has been in the last year.
-You can tell me, if you want to. It may help you to face "the bunch of guys" any other time if you tell me first. By the way, I'm Erik.
-Hello, Erik- I say, mocking the voices that have greeted him just some minutes ago. He throws me a severe glance and I blush immediately, but before I can apologise, he smiles.
-Sorry-I mumble –I'm Peyton.
-Hello, Peyton.
DAY 2
Erik has told me that I can stay in the rehab centre if I have nowhere else to go. Apparently, they have rooms for those addicts who have lost everything they had, even their home, or for those who consider they don't have enough self-control to stay away from whatever it is what's killing them. At first, I have been about to refuse his offer. In a way, I was just thinking "C'mon, do I look like a fuckin' homeless?" But then I have realised that I actually AM a fucking homeless. I have no place to go, I'm unemployed (obviously, I'm not coming back to the club where I used to work. Kyle could be around…) and I have no savings. In fact, now that I come to think of it, I'm starting to wonder how in hell I'm going to pay for this treatment. So, yeah, I have to accept, but I'm just too proud to admit I have no other choice, so I say "oh, OK, yeah" in this I-only-accept-so-that-you-can-enjoy-the-pleasure-of-my-company voice.
The room is not as bad as I had expected. It's quite small, but I don't really need more. It has white walls and a small window a bit too high. There's a small table and two plastic chairs. There's also has a bunk bed, so I guess that maybe I'm having a roommate, a fact that doesn't make me especially happy. I leave my bag in the upper bed and I sit in one of the chairs, not very sure about what I should do now. The woman who has showed me the room, whose name I can't remember right now, gives me a piece of paper with the meals timetable written on it and then leaves without giving me a second look. Well, I only have one hour before lunch, but I don't feel like eating anything, actually. I feel terribly sick, as if I was about to puke everything I've eaten in the last 10 years. I decide to go and explore the centre. I meet some people in the corridor, and I guess some of them have been in drugs for a lot of time, because they look just horrible, even scary. I wonder if "clean" people see me in that way when they look at me. I hope they don't… (Hey, what was that? Am I actually starting to care about others' opinion again? Well, two days without drugs and I'm becoming myself again! This is going to be easy…)
I find a quite noisy room with a TV, and some tables with people playing cards or other games. I would say it's a room for relaxing, but many of the people inside seem to be anything but relaxed. Anyway, I guess it will be good to try and have a kind of "social life" while I'm here. Oh God, is it me or it's incredibly hot in this room? I'm sweating as if I had run a marathon… I decide to sit on the sofa in front of the TV, where a dyed-blonde woman watches TV and smokes a cigarette. Man, now it's so cold… I'm approaching the sofa when I see Erik at the door, talking to a huge guy. He looks at me and smiles, I want to smile back but I think I'm going to vomit. The noise in the room has become an unbearable buzz. Erik waves at me (at least I think he does, because he looks kind of blurry) and I want to wave back, but my arm feels so heavy I think I'm unable to rise it. I can see his smile running away from his face while he runs towards me, and his arms trying to reach me are the last thing I see before collapsing on the floor.
