Deadland

Chapter 38- Asshole

I wake up as we pull up to the prison, the drugs have worn off slightly. Not enough to get rid of the euphoria but enough that you can't tell I'm on anything. 

When we step out of the car, Alyssa immediately runs to me and hugs me tight. "Why is there a wound on your arm?!" She yells, still hugging me. "Oh you know, got shot. Typical day." "What?!" Her voice raises a few octaves. 

Damien approaches me and hugs me, "You look pretty badass with a bullet wound." "That's what I'm sayin'! But they want me to cover it up." 

Damien looks at the car, "Where's Daryl." "Fuck Daryl." I say with a powerful tone. "Woah what?" He follows after me as I walk into the prison, Alyssa follows too. 

"'Lyss, I love you, but go away." "But-" "Do you wanna hear about my sex life?" "Bye." She says quickly, turning on her heel and walking away. 

"Bitch ass left with Merle. Told me all I was to him was a wet mouth. I knew we weren't...oh. Hello." I turn to a group of people sitting in the lounge area. Three men and a woman. They all look like they've been out of the road for a while. 

I just look at them and walk into the cell block. 

Way to be obviously drugged out of your mind.

 "Woah-" Damien lightly pushes me up against a wall to get me to stop walking, once we're in the cell block. "Daryl left?" I nod, "Yeah. Left with Merle. Even after Merle wouldn't shut the fuck up about me." 

"Ew? Fuck him. Both of them." "Exactly." "Is that why you're on..." His voice trails off. "How did you-" Damien scoffs, "Adrian, you're pupils are literally pin-point small, you're sweating like hell, you can barely walk, and you're actually talking to people who aren't me. Even if it was just a 'oh. Hello.'" 

Hershel slowly makes his way to us, "Want me to take a look at your arm?" I shake my head; the world turns to a blur. "No, it's fine." "It's pretty deep." "Yes, she wants you to look at her arm." 

Hershel nods and nods to the cell next to us. "Asshole!" I whisper through gritted teeth. 

Hershel sits me down on the bed and lightly grabs my arm, looking at my gunshot wound. 

"Well, the good thing is, it's just a flesh wound." "I' been tellin' people that for hours." "But you'll need some medicine to fight infection." "No!" 

If I take medicine while I'm using Dilaudid, I could overdose. 

"Adrian, it'll-" "I said no. I don't want it. Jus' gimme' a band-aid and we can call it a day." 

Hershel sighs, I guess he thinks I don't want it because of me overdosing. 

"Okay, let me know if you change your mind." He says softly, standing up and walking out with his crutches. 

Once he leaves, Damien comes and sits next to me. "Will the medicine-" "Yeah." He nods, not saying anything else. "Adrian I don't know what you're on but..." His voice trails off. "I can't tell you what to do but I can suggest you not to do that. I'm not gonna go and tell anybody but I know you injected something because I see the redness on your arm." I look down and then hide my arm. My eyes find Damien's again...slightly. 

"Alyssa would-" "She doesn't have to fucking know." "Adrian-" "Damien stop!" I stand up quickly, irritated. "I'm sick of everyone telling me how to live my goddamn life! I don't give a fuck what you think, what my sister thinks, and especially not what Daryl thinks!" 

"Really?! Because it seems you care a lot about what Daryl thinks because you stuck that damn needle in your arm because he said shit to you!" Damien's irritated to, the first time we've yelled at each other. 

"God you're an ass." I grunt, starting to walk out of the cell. "I'm trying to help you-" I quickly turn around. "Maybe I don't want help!" I throw my hands up and narrow my eyes. "Maybe I'm not helpable or maybe- just maybe I. Don't. Want. Help." 

"Seems like it's both." He says matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.

I clench my jaw and straighten up, "Get the fuck out of my cell before I get back." And with that, I turn on my heel and storm off. 

I stumble my way through the halls and to the bathrooms. 

I crouch down in front of a toilet and throw up again, less food this time- more water. 

I groan, "Damn it." I wipe my mouth and relax on the stall door. 

I feel acid rise in my throat once more, so I hunch over the toilet and throw up again. 

I flush the toilet and sit back again, trying to distract my mind. 

The Dilaudid can distract me. I've just gotta find my backpack.

I wipe my mouth and stand up, trying to remember where my backpack is.