Deciding, Denying, and Drinking (Part 3)
A piece of my liver? No, no fucking way are these strangers hacking into my body.
You shot up from your seat and ran out the near door into the parking garage. Catching sight of a trash can, you stick your head inside to vomit what little you'd eaten today. That all too familiar feeling creeps in as you struggle to catch your breath.
"You're alright, I promise. Just sit down," Chip murmurs. He sits next to you, leaning against the wall. When Jeff wasn't there or you guys were fighting, he was always by your side like an older brother. Chip gently used his hand to bring your face up. "You're strong. You can do this, I know it." After gathering your thoughts and courage, you made a decision.
"For Jeff," you whimpered. Chip smiled proudly and led you back inside. However after that, most everything was a blur. You signed papers, got changed into that stupid gown, and was instantly prepped for surgery. You do remember having to be sedated early because you were still panicking. You hear the surgeon explaining something complicated sounding before surrendering to the anesthesia.
Your eyes flutter open, but the blinding fluorescent lights quickly force them shut. The faint bustling of the hospital filled your ears, and you tense. You manage to get a look around the room; the first person you see is Chip, doing something or another on his iPhone, but he notices your glance. "Hey," he whispered with a small grin. "You have good timing; Jeff woke up about an hour ago. He fell back asleep now… but I'm glad you're here."
"Didn't think I would make it?" you joke as you sit up. "Yes, I thought it was all over for you," Chip retorts sarcastically. Jeff was in the bed next to yours, in some morphine-induced nap. Chip tosses a pillow off his chair and it hits him. "Get up, your girlfriend's awake." You smiled at the way they treated each other, it always seemed to cheer you up somehow. "I'm gonna go," Chip says. "But call me if you need anything." He kisses you on the cheek and pats Jeff's foot on the way out.
You hobble over to his bed and sit beside him. "Hello," he croaks groggily. "Fancy meeting you here." You place a small peck on his lips, and your fingers toy with his hair. "What am I going to do with you?" Jeff shrugs. "Love me?" You smirk but then sigh. "What happened? What are you doing to yourself?" His eyes narrow and he looks defensive. His pride and ego was the number one priority… like always.
"What do you mean, what am I doing to myself? I'm doing whatever I want. I'm living my life, and you can't tell me how." He could get so argumentative, and you hated that. Talking about why he's here with you in the first place was obviously out of the question now. "I'm not," you insist. "Just… what are you hiding from me?"
Jeff looked distraught and conflicted; as if he really did want to tell you but couldn't bring himself to do it. He finally opened his mouth to speak. "I'm just going to go to bed. I don't know if you know this, but I nearly died and stuff." He cannot be serious. Just like every addict, he's avoiding the subject. "Jeff, there's a problem! You have a problem, and you won't even fucking talk to me about it?" You were able to keep your tone steady, though inside you were boiling over with rage and disappointment.
His voice dropped to a growl. "I do not have a fucking problem." However the cold sweat layered over his skin said otherwise. "You're already going through withdrawal! And it's been 2 goddamn days!" You got up and walked toward the door and tried not to double over in pain due to the fact that you probably just ripped out some stitches. "I'm done Jeff. I love you so much… but not like this. I'm sorry, I need time to think."
You didn't give him the chance to respond because you were scared of what he was going to say. Without any idea where you were going or how far you'd get, you left him and didn't look back at the shell of the man that you once fell in love with.