This entry is part 4 of 7 in the series At Deaths Drawer

The drawer on the floor layed empty, topsy turvy, upside down. In despair and desperation he had shaken it. Although he could clearly see it was empty, his brain damaged mind expected its former contents to come spilling out of crevasses and recesses, or perhaps even materialize, magically created out of nothing but condensed wishes. It was empty, there was no escape from reality. That reality consumed by a skull shattering pain in his brain, the fear of the inevitable crash and withdrawal, and worse, the return to lucidity, normality and a semblance of sanity.

 

She was still there, yet he was unaware. “My pills, my pills, my pretty pretty pills” echoed repetitively through the recesses of his mind. His thoughts themselves seemed slow, as if it took great effort to pass through a thickening bog, or even the iresistable suction of quicksand. Yes, quicksand, although the thoughts echoed on a repeating loop, the more he struggled against it, the more he was consumed.

 

“They are gone, it will be ok, I will help you through this” another voice repeated in unison with his. But it was futile, sound waves entered his ears, vibrations of his eardrums sparking electrochemical signals to travel the short distance into his brain, only to be rejected as irrelevant to the current situation. Likewise he was being held, hugged tightly, but his entire nervous system was going haywire. Where her arms wrapped around his trembling body, he only felt the wriggling and slithering of worms digging into his skin. His body was alive with the rot of death. Decomposition. Physically and mentally.

 

Withdrawal, when had his habit ceased to be a treatment for, and escape from mental anguish and become nothing more then staving off the inevitability of withdrawal? In times like this, it would only be natural to question how he had fallen so far. Of course the chorus of a thousand echoing voices chanting “my pills my pills my pretty pretty pills” eliminated the potential for such complex thoughts and self examinations.

 

Horrified he only came to realize she was there holding him after the contents of his digestive tract deposited themselves on her lap. Diarrhea and vomit, what a way to show appreciation for the woman who saved his worthless life.

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