Desolation Row [MxM]

Chapter 12

“I have to, you know how Charlie gets,” I told him. Joel whined a little again, running his hands up my sides for a second before I pulled back, sliding away from him and off the bed. I grimaced a little at the wet feeling in my underwear, and when I looked back over to Joel, I wasn't too surprised to find him out cold.

I quietly moved toward the door—and by quietly I mean I hit the edge of the bed, and stumbled into one of the walls before I managed to reach the door, walking unsteadily through it as I went down the stairs. By that point it was pretty easy to make my way through the crowd in the living room, squeezing past people that were either moving around me with beer bottles or rubbing some part of themselves against me.

I suppressed a yawn as I exited the house entirely, feeling around in my pockets for my keys. I had to get home, before Charlie decided to try calling me again. I didn't want to deal with Charlie. I wanted to stay with Joel, I wanted to sleep with him. Sleep sounded so good.

Stumbling over to the car, I almost set the alarm off when I couldn't get the key into the door, and then fumbled before I managed to get it into the ignition, as well. I shook my head a little to try and wake myself up a little more before I pulled out, onto the road.

There weren't a lot of cars around, at that time of night. I swerved into the opposite lane a few times, each time being infinitely more thankful that the road was practically deserted. I could've gotten into an accident. An accident wouldn't be too good.

My eyes started closing against my will, and my hands loosened a little on the steering wheel before I was able to shake myself into full wakefulness again. But I wasn't fast enough, and while I probably had time to move the car out of the direction it was going, my reflexes wouldn't cooperate.

The car ran right through the guardrail, dropping down into a ditch and bouncing back up in time to go into the trunk of a tree. My head slammed against the top of the steering wheel, and I probably would've hit the windshield if my chest hadn't hit the wheel on the bounce up.

I was vaguely aware of the airbag coming out, and some more pain as blood seeped into my eyes. It was hard to breathe, my head hurt, and I just wanted to sleep, so badly.

So I did.

All I heard at first were beeps. So many beeping sounds, and mechanical noises. Then the smell; clinical, and clean. Sterile. It was a few minutes before I was able to open my eyes, blinking against the white ceiling and light coming in from the window nearby.

Everything was sore. My head, my sides, my stomach. My chest. There was something on my wrist, but I didn't have the ability to lift my head, so I settled for tilting it to the side slightly.

Charlie was there, sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair. He jerked his head up when he heard me shift, but his relieved expression quickly altered to anger. There wasn't any chance to say anything though, because a doctor walked in right as he looked up, holding a clipboard. He seemed a little surprised to see me awake, but didn't let that deter him as he stood at the foot of my bed, sighing quietly. “I guess I don't need to tell you how stupid what you did was,” he said.

I didn't reply, just watching as he looked over the clipboard again. “As far as your injuries go, you're pretty banged up. You had a slight concussion, there's some stitches on your forehead. You've got a couple fractured ribs. Sprained wrist. And you're about seventy percent bruises right now,” he explained. “You're lucky, someone drove by the road you were on and said they weren't sure how long you'd been there. EMT's said about an hour. Your car was found in a ditch, and you managed to hit a tree. The guys weren't sure if you were alive or not, before they checked for a pulse.”

The doctor dropped his hands to his sides, clipboard tapping against his leg a few times as he shrugged. “We'll keep you overnight for observation, and then tomorrow, if you're doing alright, we'll let you go.”

I gave a very slight nod to that, and the doctor glanced between me and Charlie for a second before he moved to leave the room. I listened to his footsteps in the hall until he was too far away, and Charlie sat silently for a few more seconds after that before he spoke. “Your license is suspended,” he said, voice coming out strained.

He cleared his throat as I stayed silent, not willing to talk. “The uh, the doctor also suggested... Suggested some kind of rehab, or something.”

I tensed at that. “I'm not a drug addict,” I murmured.

“You almost killed yourself because you were too high to drive.” Charlie retorted. “Quite frankly, you know, I don't care if you're addicted to something or not. You're better than that. You're better than this, Vic. And I know damn well your mom taught you better.”

“Yeah, well I'm already the weird social outcast, I don't need going to rehab on top of it.”

“I'd rather have a weird social outcast than a dead nephew!” Charlie argued, raising his voice. I went quiet again, and he sighed in aggravation, getting up from the chair roughly and walking out of the room. I watched him go easily, settling back into the bed once he was gone.

I was tired, why did Charlie feel the need to do this now, right after I woke up? And everything was so painful. Breathing was difficult, I had a massive headache. I managed to lift my arm up, seeing the air cast covering my wrist as I wiggled my fingers.

It just then occurred to me that someone had changed me out of my clothing, meaning that someone had to have the job of seeing my underwear. That was a little awkward. All I could do was snort a little though, closing my eyes and taking as deep a breath as I could manage.

The next day I was discharged, Charlie bringing me my own clothes that I changed into, with some difficulty. The doctor came in before we left, without the clipboard and rubbing his hands together. “You guys getting ready to go?” he asked.

“Yeah, just about. We just need to sign him out, and then we'll be good.” Charlie replied with a small nod. The doctor nodded in response for a few seconds before his gaze slipped over to me, and he sighed a little.

“As you probably know, your license is suspended. And the court has the authority to keep it suspended until you agree to rehab. From what I've been told, this isn't unusual activity, for you.”

I glanced over to Charlie at that. It's the only way the doctor could've known what my 'usual activity' is. Charlie carefully avoided my eyes though, and the doctor just cleared his throat quietly. “Well, uh, good luck. Don't do anything too strenuous, and you should heal up just fine. Take care, Mr. Halcomb,” he said, giving a tight smile before he left the room.

I didn't look at Charlie again, even as we left the room and signed me out of the hospital. We didn't talk on the way to the apartment complex, and I stayed as far against the door as I could.

We walked into the building, slowly going up the steps to the apartment. I tried to look over at Joel's apartment, wondering if maybe he'd texted or called or anything, but Charlie interrupted my field of vision by stepping in front of me, putting a hand on my back to steer me through the door.

I walked by him, walking through the living room and the hall before I reached my room and walked in, going over to carefully lay down on the bed in the least painful position I could manage.