The Pharmacy (UNEDITED)

Chapter Eleven

Fabian

8:25 PM. Danique has bid me her farewells, promised she would return soon for a proper visit, not more medicine deliveries. Of course, her definition of 'soon' was in the least two weeks.

I stood at the window, leaning outside even though it was cold enough to freeze me alive. The radio was still playing classical piano music behind me, only this time, it was playing Liszt's most famous pieces. I watched the commotion of the streets as the night was flaming with lights and people, and music blared from below, while children filled the dark air with laughter. The sounds of cars were too far and drowned by the ruckus to be heard from up here. The smell of alcohol should be too far to smell, but it still fills this jail that I'm forced to call home. I'm convinced that I've been damned.

I pulled myself in, getting too cold to handle anymore, and leaned against the side of the window frame. My head was starting to burst with little headaches, splitting my vision so that all I saw was a double of everything. The "withdrawal" was kicking in.

I tried with great difficulty to get around without slamming my calf against the corner of a table, or smashing my nose against the wall. The blurring was becoming excessive and I had to start feeling my way around the room, nearly sending the lamp of my bedside table crashing against the floor. I kneeled beside it and prodded the tabletop in search of the pills I desperately needed; my fingers started shivering, and my breath started to hasten, but finally, I landed upon the strip of medicine. Barely gripping it, I flipped it over and peeled one of the pills out of its plastic prison, spilled it out into my palm, and swallowed it dry. My vision slowly began coming back into place, and I could lift myself up properly now. My senses returned to normal, and my breathing and heart rate eased into their average paces. The commotion of the outside still clawed into the bedroom.

I walked back beside the window out of lack of nothing else to do, watched the outside once more, and repeated my previous routine, just without the medicine ordeal. I've been told that if my life was a movie, the price to watch it would be below free. Thanks for that, cousin Friedrich.

The smell of gasoline began to overpower the scent of fresh air, making me gag, and the sound of tires scraping across pavement tuned out the singing of birds and children. I, irritated, leaned out of the window once again to search for the tasteless man who decided to disturb the peace. Down there, I saw a dark-green Mercedes easing into our driveway, gleaming against our golden lights and the luminescence of the moon. The roof was down. The driver was in a uniform just a shade or less lighter than the car. The glossy black visor of his cap reflected nearly as much light as his vehicle. The little skull on his hat looked like a little star when he looked up to meet my eyes. I was only able to meet his when he took that cap off. It was like looking at my own irises. His smile creased his face as mine does. His hair was as golden as mine, maybe evem more so.

Uncle Johannes, or Hans, as we called him.

He returned the hat to his head once more, drove further, and went out of my line of sight.

I scurried downstairs, fumbling with the buttons of my hastily-worn shirt, which I only put on for the sake of looking decent in front of a man who has already seen me at least a thousand times. Every day, I start believing cousin Friedrich just a little bit more.

The moment I set my foot on the floor, Uncle Hans started repeatedly knocking on the door, which I found unbelievably obnoxious, and so I shook my head and strode towards it. I twisted the knob and irritably pulled the door in. There he stood, looming over me, adorned in his uniform from the cap on his head to the black boots on his feet. His eyes, which I still found disturbingly similar to mine, stared into mine as I silently looked up at him.