Chapter Thirty-Six

Claire ran a washcloth over John's bloody face, letting her Mother tend to his black eye with a bag of frozen peas. They'd managed to get his unconscious body to the couch in the livingroom, not understanding why he'd passed out. Ryan wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm, pressing his stethoscope to the veins in John's inner elbow. "His blood pressure's high." He stated, relieving the air in the cuff, and letting it loosen around his bicep. "He probably stayed up all night, and I think he drank too much coffee." He lifted John's hand pricking his finger with a pin and wiping a drop of his blood onto a test strip that he placed in the blood sugar monitor. He sighed, looking at his heightened A1C level of his blood. "He had a ton of sugar too."

Claire wiped the cloth over his lips, the white rag becoming smudged with dark red. "I'm just glad he's back." She pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, the taste of the cigarettes still fresh on his lips. She could feel his gentle breath on her cheek, surprised when she felt him kiss her back.

His lips pressed farther against hers, his head slowly rising so that he could hold her better. He moaned as she pushed him down, not wanting the kiss to end. "Sweets…" He whined, flinching as Clarissa placed the bag of peas over his swollen eye. "Ah! That's cold!" He exclaimed, not noticing that Amelia was watching them try to fix him up. "Really fucking cold!"

Clarissa shushed him, brushing her fingers through his hair to try and calm him. "Would you relax?" She looked up at Amelia smiling as she inched closer to them. "He's better now. He just got a little freaked out." She felt John shift in her lap, smiling as he reached for the child.

Amelia ran up to her hero, jumping onto his stomach and kneeing him just under the ribs, causing him to have a coughing fit. "Are you sick?" She asked, siting back on his hips as he struggled to catch his breath.

He leaned back against Clarissa's lap, feeling Claire lift his feet as she took a seat on the sofa. "No, I'm not sick Squirt, I was just really dumb and breathed something I shouldn't have." He could still smell the smoke on his body, realizing just how much he hated the smell. "I need to go take a shower." He stated, letting Amelia crawl off of his body so that he could get up.

Ryan placed a hand on his chest, making him sit back down. "Take your shirt off, I need to listen to your lungs."

John rolled his eyes, slipping his fingers into the collar of his shirt and pulling it over his head by grabbing the back of the fabric. He felt Ryan press the cold end of his stethoscope to his back, knowing that Claire and her mother were staring at his scarred back.

"Take a deep breath." Ryan ordered, listening to the slight rattle in John's chest. "Cough for me." He listened to the rasp as John coughed, knowing that John's body had adjusted to not smoking before last night and now he would have to start over. "Well, you sound alright for smoking… how many did you smoke?"

John held up two fingers, ducking his head as he thought about how everyone must've been disappointed in him for the relapse. "Two." He jumped as he felt Claire's fingers brush over an old scar from the first time his dad had switched from the belt to the chain to whip him. "Don't." He stated, making her jump back from him. He stood, walking upstairs to the bathroom.

He turned the water on, stripping his clothes off and tossing them in the dirty hamper, before stepping into the steaming hot water. He pumped his hand full of shampoo, lathering it through his dark hair, noticing how it stung when it got into the cut on his lip. "Fuck." He hissed, holding a hand to his lip. He wiped his hand away, looking at the fresh blood on his fingers. "Damnit."

He finished his shower, stepping out after wrapping a towel around his hips. He looked in the mirror, seeing the blood staining his cracked lips. He shook his head, opening the cabinet and pulling out a butterfly bandage, and pressing it to his lip. He looked at his black eye, running his fingers over the dark bruising around his bloodshot eye, knowing that a few blood vessels had been broken in the white of his eye. "Ugh…" He groaned, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to heal by the time he was supposed to be in court tomorrow.

He opened the girls' makeup drawer, cocking a brow at the thousands of odd-looking bottles and vials of whatever gunk they put on their faces. He picked up a black crayon looking thing, seeing that it had Kaylie's name written on it. He looked through the drawer more, digging out three bottles of skin colored liquid that had the word 'foundation' written on it. He'd seen Kaylie put this on over her zits when she got acne, and figured it would work the same way with a black eye. He tested the different tones on his arm, growling as he saw that they were all too light for his skin.

He wiped the makeup off on his towel, before walking to his room. He closed his door, turning around to see Dominic shaking the cigarette carton with a lighter in his hand. "Get dressed, we're going outside."

John rolled his eyes, pulling on his blue flannel and a pair of underwear and jeans before following his cousin outside. "What're you gonna do? Make me chain smoke the whole pack?" He asked, knowing that he could do that without getting too sick.

Dominic shook his head, handing the lighter to him, and holding up the carton. "This carton is your life, and your health." He placed it in the fire pit, taking the lighter from his cousin. "This flame, is our addictions and our past that we run back to every time something goes wrong." He lit the cigarettes on fire, forcing John into a chair to watch them burn. "Our addictions and our habits will ruin our lives if we're not careful." He watched as the paper and tobacco burned, noticing that John had a longing look in his eyes. "They will take not only our lives, but they will take those we love away from us." He sighed, folding his hands over his knees. "Remember how grandpa died and grandma danced at his funeral? Imagine that but instead of having someone there when you die, you die alone with a needle in your arm, without anyone to even dance on your grave."

John nodded, understanding that he couldn't give in any longer, he had to quit, he had to clean up his act. "I'm throwing out all my shitty stuff." He stood, limping into the house and up to his room.