I sit in the chair by the window, looking at the stairs. It was something Sammy and me used to do. I miss Sammy.
It's dark and it's late and I can't sleep anymore. The drugs are wearing off.
The Nurse comes back in.
"Can't sleep?"
She checks my vitals.
"No."
"We have a lounge. It has a TV."
She hands me some pills and a robe and some slippers.
"And you can smoke there."
She hands me a pack of cigarettes.
"I hope these are ok."
I don't say anything, but accept everything.
"Get changed and I'll show you where it's at."
I still don't say anything, she leaves the room. I take the pills and I change into the robe and when I open the door, she's waiting for me.
We go to the Lounge. A television, two couches, an easy chair, some vending machines, a coffee maker. The TV is on.
"You want a Coke?"
I sit down in the chair.
"No. But I'll take a few beers, if you have them."
She just stares at me.
"No, I'm fine. Thank you."
She asks if I need anything else and I say no and then she leaves me to the TV. I can feel the pills she gave me kicking in. I watch television but nothing registers. I smoke a cigarette. It burns.
A man walks in. He walks up to me and he stands in front of me.
"Hey, Buddy."
His voice is Deep and Dark.
"Hey, Buddy."
Tacks crisscross his forearms.
Scars run the length of his wrists and down his arms. I have some like them.
"I'm talking to you."
I look in his Eyes. They're blank.
"What?"
He points at the chair I'm sitting in.
"That's my chair."
I turn back to the television.
"That's my chair."
The pills are kicking in.
"Hey, Buddy, that's my chair."
Nothing registers.
"HEY, ASSHOLE. THAT'S MY FUCKING CHAIR."
I watch TV and he's breathing heavy and the Nurse comes in.
"Is there a problem?"
"This Asshole is in my chair."
"Then why don't you sit on the couch?"
"Because. I don't like the fucking couch. I like this goddamn chair."
"Dean is in the chair. There's the couch, or the floor, or you can leave. You decide."
"Fuck Dean. Make him move."
"Do you want me to call Security?"
"No."
"Then you decide. Couch, floor, or leave."
He walks to the couch and he sits down on it. The Nurse watches him.
"Thank you."
He laughs and she leaves and we're alone and I'm watching television and smoking a cigarette. He stares at me and he chews his nails and he spits them and me and the pills are settling in and the bugs are leaving me and I don't care.
Nothing registers.
I watch the television. Everything slows down. Slows down beyond recognition.
The image blurs, the voices fade. There is no action and no noise. Just flickering Lights and a symphony of withered voices. I stare at the Lights, I listen to the voices. I want them to go away and they won't.
My Eyelids fall. I try to bring them back up but they don't. My musclse go limp and I slide out of the chair and onto the floor. I don't like the floor and I don't want to be on the floor but I can't stop myself. As I slide, the fabric of the chair is coarse and my robe is stringy and they get caught together and my robe hikes up at my waist. I try to pull it down. But I cannot move. My mind isn't work. The robe stays in place.
The man stops spitting his nails at me and he stands and he walks toward me and I can see him coming through the slitted lines that are my Eyes. I know that he can do whatever he wants to me. I know that I am helpless to stop him. I know that he is angry and know from his tracks and his scars and his Eyes he will probably express that anger through some sort of violence. With each step he takes the situation become more clear in my broken mind. Helpless to stop him. Helpless.
He stands over me and he stares at me.
"You are one pretty Motherfucker."
I try to say something back. I can only grunt.
"I could kick your ass right now if I felt like it. Hell, I could even fuck the shit out of you I wanted to. Beat you bloody then fuck what's left."
My body is limp.
"But all I want right now is the fucking chair."
My mind is not working.
"And I'm gonna fucking take it."
He reaches out and he grips my wrists and he drags me along the floor.
He drags me away from the chair and into the corner of the Room and he leaves me laying face down. He leans over and puts his lips next to my ear.
"I could have beat the shit out of you, you Son of a Bitch. Just remember that."
Then he sticks his tongue in my ear and laughs.
He leaves and I can hear him sit down in his chair and start changing the channels on the television. There is a sports program, an infomercial about hair growth, a show about two brothers who hunt monsters. He stops on that one and he laughs when he's supposed to and he gasps when he's supposed to and he mutters things to himself the entire, mainly about how he'd like to fuck the angel on the show. I lie facedown on the floor.
I am awake, but I am unable to move.
My heart beats so loud I can see it.
The tile is cold and hard. You'd think that after me laying there for so long that it would heat up, but no.
A gunshot is fired and a monster screams and it's so loud I can feel it.
I am awake but unable to move.
I fade.
I fade.
I fade.
Morning comes and when I wake up I am able to move and I stand I look for the man. He's gone, but my memory isn't and won't be for a long time. It has always been a bad habit.
Remembering.
I go to my Room and when I open the door I see an Orderly setting a tray of food on the desk. He looks at me and he smiles.
I do not understand why so many people smile here. It is not a very happy place.
"Good morning."
"Good morning."
"I brought you some breakfast. We thought you might be hungry."
"Thank you."
I've been saying thank you a lot recently, but not really meaning it.
"If you want anything else, just call."
I don't see why everyone is so willing to help me when I'm not ever sure if i want to help myself.
"Thank you."
He leaves and I look at the food. Eggs, bacon. Toast, potatoes. A glass of water and a glass of orange juice. I don't want to eat but I know I should so I go to the chair and I sit down and I look at the food and then I feel my Face. Everything is still swollen. I touch my Lips and they crack. I open my Mouth and they bleed. I close my Mouth and they drip. I don't want to eat but I know I should.
I reach for the glass of water and take a sip. It's too cold, so I set it back down.
I reach for the glass of orange juice and I take and sip and it burns too bad so I set it back down as well.
I try to use the fork, but it does too much damage.
I break up the toast and i push the pieces down my throat with my fingers.
I do the same with the potatoes and the eggs and the bacon. I drink the water, but not the juice. I lick my fingers clean.
When I'm done I go to the Bathroom and I vomit. I try to stop it, but I can't. About half the food comes up and so does blood and bile. I am happy that I have kept half the food. That is more than I normally keep.
As I walk to my bed, a Doctor comes into the Room. He smiles. I still do not understand all the smiling.
"Hi."
He's wearing a name tag, but I can't read it.
"I'm Doctor Baker."
We shake hands.
"I'm going to be working with you today."
I sit down on the edge of my bed.
"Are you okay with that?"
He looks at my Face, but not my Eyes.
"Yeah."
I look at his Eyes.
"How are you feeling?"
His eyes are kind, like my dad's before Mom died.
"I feel like I'm tired of that question."
He laughs.
"I bet you are."
I just look at him.
He hands me some pills. They are called Librium and Diazepam. I take them
"They're detoxification drugs and important medically because they stabilize your heart. Keep your blood pressure in check and help you ease through withdrawal. Without them you could suffer a stroke or a heart attack. Or both."
He leans forward and looks me in the Eyes, then he looks at my Cheek.
"You'll be taking them every four hours, in decreasing doses, for the next five days."
I look at his Eyes.
"We're going to take some tests, and start working on a Program for you."
"Okay."
"First though, we need to try and fix you up a bit."
We go to a Room. It has a bright fluorescent Light and a large surgical bed and boxes of supplies. I sit on the bed and he puts on a pair of latex gloves and he examines my Cheek. He picks away the scabs. He opens my Mouth. His Finger fits through the hole. He gets a needle and some string and he tells me to clench my Fists and close my Eyes. I leave them open and I watch as the needle runs through. Inside and out. My Cheek, my Lip, my Mouth. Forty-one times.
We're through and he's on the phone with a Surgical Dentist and I'm sitting on the bed and I'm shaking from the pain.
He sets a date and hangs up the phone and he starts washing his Hands.
"We're gonna take you into Town in a couple of days the get your teeth looked at. I know the dentist and he'll take good care of you."
I touch my tongue to the remains of my teeth and pain shoots through my Mouth.
"You'll look as good as new."
I doubt that.
"Don't worry."
He puts on a new pair of gloves and he turns around.
"Now I need to check you Nose."
I take a deep breath . He steps forward and he starts looking at my Nose.
He touches it and I cringe. I can no longer feel my Cheek.
"This is bad." "I know."
"I gonna have to break it and reset it."
"I know."
"The sooner the better. We can wait if you want, though."
"The sooner the better,"
"Okay."He spreads his Feet and he firms himself and he puts both of his Hands on my Nose. I grab the sides of the bed and I close my Eyes and I wait.
"You ready?"
"No. I'm not. Just get it over with."
He jerks his Hands and there is and audible crack.
The only besides the pain I can register is someone screaming "Son of a Bitch."
I think it might be me, but I'm not sure.
Cold white Light shoots through my Eyes and through my Spine and into my Feet and back again. My Eyes are closed but I'm crying. Blood is streaming from my nostrils.
"Now I have to set it."
He moves his Hands to the side and I can feel the Cartilage move with him. He moves them again. I can feel it. He preses up and it seems to fit. I can feel it.
"There."
He reaches for some tape and I open my Eyes. He puts the tape across the bridge of my Nose and it holds it all in place. It feels solid.
He grabs a towel and he wipes the blood from my Face and my Neck and I stare at the wall. My Face is throbbing and I'm squeezing the side of the bed and it hurts my Hands. I want to let go, but I can't.
"You all right?"
"No."
"I can't give you any painkillers."
"I know."
"The detox meds should take the edge off. But you're still gonna hurt."
"I'm used to it by now."
"I'll get you a new robe."
I look down at mine.
It's covered in blood.
He steps back and he throws the towel in the garbage ban and he leaves. I let go of the bed and I hold my Hands in front of my Face and I stare at them. They shake. I shake.
The Doctor comes back in with a Nurse and they help me change and they tell me about the tests they're going to give me. Blood, urine, stool. They need to know how much damage I've done to my insides. The thought revolts me.
We leave and go to a different Room that also has a Bathroom. I pee in a cup. I shit in a plastic container. Take a needle in my arm. It's simple and it's easy and it's painless.
We emerge and the Unit is busy. Patients wait in line for drugs. Doctors go from Room to Room. Nurses carry bottles and tubes. There is noise, but everything is quite.
I go to my Room with the Doctor and I sit on the bed. He sits in the chair and he writes on a chart. He finishes writing and he looks at me.
"Except for the Dentist, the worst of everything is over."
I doubt that, but I don't say anything.
"I'm going to put you on two hundred a fifty milligrams of Amoxycillin, three times a day. This will prevent any possible infection.
"Okay."
"Go to the Dispensary and they'll give them to you, or if you forget, a Nurse will come and find you."
"Okay."
"Thank you for dealing this morning."
"No problem."
"Good luck."
"I'm going to need it."
He stands and I stand and we shake Hands and he leaves. I go to the Dispensary and I stand in line. A man, about my age, stands in front of me. He turns around and looks at my face. He speaks.
"Hi."
"Hi." He holds out his Hand.
"I'm Castiel."
I take it. It's soft and warm.
"I'm Dean."
I don't want to let go. It's been so long since I felt something warm, but I let go anyways. We step forward.
"What happened?"
"I don't remember."
"You blacked out?"
"Yeah."
He grimaces.
"Yeah."
We step forward.
"When did you get here?"
"Yesterday."
"As did I."
This guy is clearly educated. I don't know why he would throw his life away for this.
Castiel is next in line and he gets his meds and he takes them. He turns around to me and says goodbye. And just like that. He's gone.
I take his place and the Nurse asks my name.
"Dean Winchester."
She looks at a chart and she goes to a cabinet and she gets some pills and she hands them to me with a cup of water.
I take the pills.
I drink the water.
I go to my room and I fall asleep and I spend the rest of the day sleeping and shoving food down my Throat and waiting in line and taking pills.