Powder [phan]

VIII

WARNINGS: AGGRESSIVE BEHAVIOUR, DEPRESSION, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS (?)

Dan's POV

"Can you tell me what was going on in your head when you voluntarily overdosed? What did you feel while doing so?" Asked the psychologist as I sank in the armchair opposite her.

You could really call it that, because my body had slid down so much that I could have fallen asleep so easily.

"Well, I obviously thought that I didn't want to live anymore. How did you get your admission?" I answered spitefully, but she was not impressed by it.

"And do you still have these thoughts sometimes?"

Day after day. Hour after hour. Right now, right here, I wish I could just end it.

It just got worse instead of getting better. I also simply had too much time here to think about what had happened. Too much time to imagine in bed at night, how-

I saw the pictures from back then in front of me every second. How Tyler drew a line, how he punched me, how he let some guy into the apartment. How he lay next to me, apologized. How I knew I was completely fucked up, while holding him closer.

I didn't want to be here, actually I didn't want to be anywhere. Not even with Phil who had only called twice so far. After every phone call, I wished he had never called. Somehow it all made it so much worse.

"Mr. Howell?" She tore me out of my sleep-like state.

"Yes. I will go now I think." I replied and stood up.

"Your session is not over yet."

"I'm sorry, but I don't really care." I mumbled lost before I left the room and went back to my room.

Her last look had clearly revealed what she thought of me. Hopeless case mixed with a little pity. I don't think I've ever had a full session with her. I had always gone earlier or had said absolutely nothing. Although she was very nice, unfortunately, nice wasn't helping at all right now.

When I got to my room, I lay down on my bed and covered my view with my forearm so I didn't have to see the gray ceiling that I had been staring at for so many hours since I was here.

I couldn't take it anymore.

None of this made any sense to me. There was only one thing that would remedy me so that I no longer had the agonizing thoughts, but I wouldn't be able to get to them while I was trapped here.

Letting me locked up here was the craziest idea I've ever had. How could Phil, with just one shitty sentence and his pretty blue eyes, tempt me into letting myself be locked up in a shitty clinic for weeks.

Oh right, I love him. Fuck. And now this asshole can't even pay me a visit.

I wanted to get out of here.

And suddenly I remembered who I was. Which made me special and would help me get out of here. To finally get me what I needed.

I was an actor.

If I wanted the staff here to believe that I was fine and ready to be on my own, I could. Nothing easier than that.

And once I did that, nobody would stop me from satisfying my addiction. I would look for and find comfort in the cocaine as I used to. I didn't give a fuck if that didn't suit anyone.

That was my life and God knows I had tried to believe that there was another way.

That I could be happy in other ways without having to maintain the feeling with drugs every day. Maybe I just didn't deserve it better.