Saving Sawyer | ✓

Chapter 24 | Have I Mentioned How Good You Look?

Chapter 24 | Have I Mentioned How Good You Look?

“You can’t stop what’s done to you- you can only survive it.” ― Georgia Rule

“Honey, you need to eat something,” My mother urges from across the kitchen, eyeing the untouched plate sitting in front of me.

“Mom, if I try to eat anything right now, I’m gonna throw up,” I truthfully tell her, rubbing my hand across my stomach, which has a queasy feeling bubbling in it.

“You have to take your medication with food,” She reminds me. “At the very least, have a piece of toast or something— please?” She pleadingly asks me.

I guess she thinks that if I don’t take my medication this one time though, I’m going to have a mental breakdown or something. Granted, today is sure to be one of the most stressful and emotionally debilitating days of my life thus far, so I guess she kind of has a point. As a matter of fact, I might as well just go ahead and take an anxiety pill now with my anti-depressant. That’s the one that I have to take twice a day, the anti-depressant, and I’m only supposed to take the anxiety pills whenever I start to feel really anxious and I know that before this day is over, that’s most definitely going to happen.

Today is February 3, which, if you remember, is the day that the trial begins. Today is the day that I find out if I’m going to be forced to spend the next few weeks or months even, looking over my shoulder or if my life will finally start to return to how it used to be pre fall 2012.

The trial is set to begin in a little over an hour and although I don’t have to go, I decided that I want to. I mean, yeah, it’s probably not a great idea to voluntarily spend a few hours or so in a courtroom with the guy that I brutally stabbed in the stomach three weeks ago, but I just really feel like I need to do this, for me. Also, it gets me out of school, which is always great.

“Okay, mom,” I sigh, nodding in appeasement. I don’t want to argue with my mother because I know that I won’t win and also because I know that she’s been dealing with a whole heck of a lot of stress lately, what with kicking Tom out of the house and dealing with everything to get ready for the trial today. Not to mention the fact she’s had to drop a crap-ton of cash for lawyer fees and court fees and such. Also, I have a headache and arguing with her is just going to intensify it and I definitely don’t want that.

I really have no appetite at all though—crazy, I know, coming from me, Sawyer Jameson—but it’s true. That’s really saying something too because I think we all know how much I adore food. Dr. Fontana did tell me though, several times actually, that I can’t take my anti-depressant on an empty stomach. Something about how it’ll make me sick or something.

“Thank you,” She replies, obviously thankful for the fact that I’m not fighting her on this medication thing. She walks over to the cabinet where she now keeps my medicine at and opens it, taking one of the orange pill bottles out. Then she uncaps it and takes a pill out, walking across the kitchen and handing it to me.

I pick up the piece of toast on my plate and nibble a few bites out of it down before throwing back the pill and gulping down some orange juice. Then my mother, being the incredibly weird person she is, tells me to open my mouth to make sure that I’ve swallowed the pill, which I obviously have. I mean, it’s not like I’d just hide it under my tongue and then spit it out when she leaves—I’m not an idiot, I know I need to take my meds to be okay, but that doesn’t mean I like it.

“So, I told Serena and Tyler that I’d meet with them at the courthouse before the trial starts so we can go over some last minute details,” My mom informs me, walking back across the kitchen and putting the pill bottle back in its cupboard. “So, I’m going to go ahead and head out,” She adds.