Every morning I got up for uni, Murph was on the sofa eating something. It'd been two weeks since he was discharged and we had been shopping five times. He was eating like a horse and there was nothing we could do to stop it. I went to make some toast and was greeted by an empty bread bag. I sighed and stormed into the living room.
"What the fuck Murph" He looked at me, his mouth full of noodles.
"Wasn't me" He said.
"Tord isn't here and I know how to put things in the bin" I rolled my eyes and walked back into the kitchen.
Hungry and pissed off, I left for uni, not saying bye to Murph. I met Tord, Clive and Mark in Laren's. They smiled when they saw me but I was making it too obvious that I was not happy.
"What's up, you moody cunt" Clive said, sipping on his coffee.
"Don't Clive" Mark told him.
"Murph been eating all night again?" Tord asked.
"When does he fucking stop?" I rubbed my temples. The waitress brought my coffee and toast over. I thanked her and started eating immediately.
"Fuckin' hell, when did you last eat?" Clive laughed.
"Murph eats it all. 'Munchies' he always says"
"He should stop smoking like a chimney then"
"You're telling the wrong person"
"He's not that bad" Tord said.
"Tord, he's been through three pouches of baccy, three grams of weed, two cakes, 5 loafs of bread and an unknown amount of pot noodles"
"Jeezus, how is he not the size of the sofa?" Clive said. " We should get him on a night out, be good for him"
"Not one of ours it wouldn't" Tord told him, looking sternly at Clive.
"Stop fuckin' babying him. He doesn't need it" I told him. I drank down my coffee and got up to leave. "See you tonight."
YOU ARE READING
Too lost for therapy - The Wombats
Teen Fiction"He's gonna bring you down, Dan. I'm not gonna sugar-coat it, he's just gonna hold you back." TRIGGERS: This story contain strong mentions of suicide, self harm, PTSD and other mental illnesses throughout. Readers digression is advised.
