Chapter 8: July 18, 2000, 10:15AM, Men's Bathroom (John Carter's Point of
View):
** Thanks for the great reviews everyone! This is my first fanfic, and I am loving writing it. Should I continue? **
Finally I got away from him. I thought he would never stop talking to me. Sneaking into the washroom was the best idea I've had in years. Unfortunately I will have to talk to him in a few minutes, and by then I will be high. That could be good or bad. I won't inject it. But my back is hurting so bad! It's just a little morphine. I won't shoot as much as I planned. The bottle of morphine is sitting on the counter-top, and I draw some medicine. Right as I stick myself with the needle and begin to push the meds, I hear Doug's voice.
"Carter I just wanted to apologize for what happened the other day." I hadn't even heard him walk in. But now we stand in the bathroom staring at each other. I continue to inject the morphine, glancing down for an instant. I am scared out of my mind, but I try to act as calm as possible.
"You should leave," I tell him, but I don't think he heard me.
He responds by asking, "My that's a strange looking spider. But this does explain a lot. What.what.um.what is going on in here?" He looks at me curiously, almost stunned.
"This doesn't concern you. I think you should leave," I repeat.
He licks his lips and mumbles, "Uh-huh. You think I should leave?"
"Yes, yes I do." My mind is racing. I don't know what I should do.
Doug steps toward me and picks up the bottle. He examines the label and then sets it back down on the counter next to the used syringe.
He gives me a piercing stare in my eyes and says, "Here I thought you were trying to tell me you had a drinking problem. But it turns out it's a drug problem."
"I don't have a drug problem-"
"Ok, then what the hell is this?" He gives me a glimpse of a half-smile, but it disappears, as if he doesn't exactly know what to do now.
I continue, "It's.it's hard to explain."
"I don't think we have anything more to discuss." He walks to the door.
"Wait!" I need to stop him; "You aren't going to tell anyone about this, are you?" I chuckle a little, and he can tell the desperation in my voice, I know it.
"About what? That nasty new spider bite you have on your wrist? No, that's up to you. But if someone asks me about this, I'm not going to lie either. Just don't ask me to dress the bite." He leaves the bathroom and I stand there alone. I take the bottle of morphine and slip it in my lab coat pocket. As I am leaving the bathroom, I toss the syringe in the garbage.
I was stupid, so very stupid. Why did I inject myself in the open? I could have easily gone into one of the stalls, and all of this would have been avoided. But I think to myself, why am I upset? I should let the morphine run through my system and not inject myself again. If they want to drug test me, it will come back positive anyway. They know I am on pain medicine for my back. Doug won't say anything. Will he?
** Thanks for the great reviews everyone! This is my first fanfic, and I am loving writing it. Should I continue? **
Finally I got away from him. I thought he would never stop talking to me. Sneaking into the washroom was the best idea I've had in years. Unfortunately I will have to talk to him in a few minutes, and by then I will be high. That could be good or bad. I won't inject it. But my back is hurting so bad! It's just a little morphine. I won't shoot as much as I planned. The bottle of morphine is sitting on the counter-top, and I draw some medicine. Right as I stick myself with the needle and begin to push the meds, I hear Doug's voice.
"Carter I just wanted to apologize for what happened the other day." I hadn't even heard him walk in. But now we stand in the bathroom staring at each other. I continue to inject the morphine, glancing down for an instant. I am scared out of my mind, but I try to act as calm as possible.
"You should leave," I tell him, but I don't think he heard me.
He responds by asking, "My that's a strange looking spider. But this does explain a lot. What.what.um.what is going on in here?" He looks at me curiously, almost stunned.
"This doesn't concern you. I think you should leave," I repeat.
He licks his lips and mumbles, "Uh-huh. You think I should leave?"
"Yes, yes I do." My mind is racing. I don't know what I should do.
Doug steps toward me and picks up the bottle. He examines the label and then sets it back down on the counter next to the used syringe.
He gives me a piercing stare in my eyes and says, "Here I thought you were trying to tell me you had a drinking problem. But it turns out it's a drug problem."
"I don't have a drug problem-"
"Ok, then what the hell is this?" He gives me a glimpse of a half-smile, but it disappears, as if he doesn't exactly know what to do now.
I continue, "It's.it's hard to explain."
"I don't think we have anything more to discuss." He walks to the door.
"Wait!" I need to stop him; "You aren't going to tell anyone about this, are you?" I chuckle a little, and he can tell the desperation in my voice, I know it.
"About what? That nasty new spider bite you have on your wrist? No, that's up to you. But if someone asks me about this, I'm not going to lie either. Just don't ask me to dress the bite." He leaves the bathroom and I stand there alone. I take the bottle of morphine and slip it in my lab coat pocket. As I am leaving the bathroom, I toss the syringe in the garbage.
I was stupid, so very stupid. Why did I inject myself in the open? I could have easily gone into one of the stalls, and all of this would have been avoided. But I think to myself, why am I upset? I should let the morphine run through my system and not inject myself again. If they want to drug test me, it will come back positive anyway. They know I am on pain medicine for my back. Doug won't say anything. Will he?