In The Heat Of Los Angeles [H.S.]

The Drugs Don't Work (The Verve)

A little bit of an advance author's note: This chapter does contain discussion of and use of medical cannabis. I wanted to provide a brief warning of that. The author's note at the end of the chapter will discuss that in greater length. I hope you read it with an open mind and I can't wait to hear your thoughts when you've read the entire chapter. Thanks! xx AM.

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I woke up at 2:00 in a cold sweat. It was rare that in the middle of the night I gravitated towards Harry. He was so warm in his sleep that he usually made me too hot if I was in pajamas. I'd used this to rationalize the fact that both of us were often in various states of undress while we slept. But here I was in a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt snuggled up against him. I knew I needed water so I stood up and attempted to walk to the bathroom but had grown extremely dizzy and had to hold onto the sink. When I flipped the light on to get a glass of water and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like shit.

I knew what this meant. The dizziness. The clammy skin. The need for Harry's body heat. My pupils were dilated. There was a pain behind my left eye that felt like a gremlin had crawled into my head and was trying to make it's way out by pushing on the back of my eyeball. The wave of nausea hit me like a Mack truck and I was immediately on the floor emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet. I flushed the toilet and laid down on the cool marble floor.

"Evie," Harry called.

"Yes," I groaned from my spot on the floor.

"Are you okay?"

"Umm, that depends on your definition of okay." I heard him laugh.

"What are you doing?" I saw him in his boxers standing in the doorway of the bathroom looking at me on the floor. He looked as if he wasn't sure if he should feel bad or laugh because I really was sprawled on the floor cuddling the tile.

"Laying on the floor. It's cold."

"You were cuddling me pretty closely. I figured you were cold, now you need cold?"

"Yeah."

"Did I hear you throw up in here?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sick? Did I mess up dinner?" It was cute, the look on his face. The fear that he'd called my Nonna, gotten the recipe for the love parm, cooked it and given me food poisoning.

"Dinner was perfect. This...this is stress induced." I held up my hand pointing at my laying on the ground. "It's a migraine."

"Do you need me to do anything for you?"

"Will you look in my suitcase? There should be a bag with prescription bottles." He hurried to the closet and I heard him digging through my suitcase until I heard the bag of prescription bottles. I sat up and threw up again as he came back into the bathroom.

"I've got your bag. I'm worried, are you okay?"

"Yeah, this happens sometimes. Can you get me water?" He filled the glass he kept on the sink for me with water as I dug through my bag. I hadn't really let him in on this side of my life. The pills were all taken when he wasn't around so I didn't look like a drug addict, the reality was a girl with some of the issues I had needed a bag filled with pills. My Mom had alluded to Harry about my therapist and I always made jokes about it, mainly because I didn't know a lot of people in Los Angeles who didn't have a therapist on speed dial. I also had all of the vitamins and supplements that I'd been told would give me the energy and stamina to make it through my life. There was something to help me sleep. Something to help me if I was stressed out. Something to help the migraines and a few different pills for all of their side effects. I found the anti-nausea and the migraine relief medication. I had it in pill form and shot form. I wasn't quite sure I wanted to have to give myself a shot in front of my boyfriend who already looked like I was fragile and breakable, though it would work better.