I wake up in hospital bed. An IV pokes out of my hand and two tubes stick out of my nose. I look around and see a nurse on the side of my bed looking at the drip that is hooked up to the IV in my hand. I want it out. I reach for it but she stops me.
"You have to leave that in," she says. I just stare at her. I felt like throwing up. The nurse walks towards the door and my eyes follow her. "The doctor will be in to talk to you." Moments later a familiar face walked in. Officer Warren.
"Hello, Stella," He says walking to the side of my bed. "Long time no see, huh?"
"Why are you here?" I ask.
"Well, I was getting to that," He puts his hand on my leg. I smile. "You have to go to rehab," my smile fades.
"No," I shake my head.
"Stella, this isn't a question, nor is it negotiable, it's court ordered," tosses me a file. I don't even open it, I just toss it back.
"I don't care, I don't want to go, I don't need help."
"Do you remember that time I picked you up after you stole from that little liquor store?" He asked sitting at the edge of my bed. I smiled and nodded.
"After you let me go I lied about my age so I didn't get put into foster care?" He chuckles.
"Yeah, that time," he takes a deep breath, "well, that time I did you a favor, now you have to do one for me." I think about it for a second and sigh, he's right. I don't have the tightest grip on my life. A part of me still denied help, but majority of me, at that moment, knew that I needed it.
Only hours later I was discharged from the hospital and officer Warren was taking me to rehab. I sat in the passengers seat of his cruiser. The car ride is quiet but there is a large weight in the car. He pulls into the drop off zone of the facility and he strops the car. I look at how big the place is. My hands shake and not just because I'm nervous, but partly because I need a fucking drink. I get out of the car and officer Warren walks me into the building. He tells me to sit so I do. He walks over to the front desk and talks to the lady behind it. My hand lightly grazes the bruises on my arms. I could have left, I could have just stood up and ran out like I so wanted to.
Officer Warren walked back to me and held his hand out for me to grab. I took it and he pulled me to my feet. My legs shook with every step I took. I was getting closer and closer to sobriety each time my foot hit the floor. I could feel my heart beating in my chest, the only reminder that I'm not just a shell of a human, I'm a actual being. Even though most of the time it feels like I'm not in control of my own body. It feels like I'm just going through the motions of living and I'm not actually putting forth the effort.
I walk through the 'door to a better life'. Everything was white, the air was so thin and sterile it burned my nose.
"This is as far as we're aloud to take you," a nurse said to officer warren. I looked at him and gave him a weak smile.
"I want you to get better, you hear? I'll come pick you up when you're better, okay?" He says trying not to cry. I smile wider and nod. I hug him and watch as he leaves me. I'm alone with the nurse now. She smiles and tells me to follow her. I don't have the energy in me to fight so I follow her.
"You're going to be in detox for tonight, then you'll be admitted," she led me to a small room with a bed in the corner. there was one small window. We walked into the room and she told me that someone would be in to give me my
medication. I sat on the twin size bed and looked at the wall that was in front of me. It wasn't until then did I even think about Alex. Is he dead? Is he here? I need him right now. I need a damn drink right now. I lay down in the bed and curl into a ball. I'm shaking and crying. I need Alex. I want to know where he is right now. I can't believe I let my life come to this.
Thinking back at it, if I never ran away, I would never be laying in this bed, sweating, crying, and shaking. My life would be ten times better than it is now. I wouldn't be able to see my rib cage clearly. I would be healthy. I close my eyes and try to silently sob. I hear the door open and I swallow my tears. I wipe my eyes and sit up. A nurse—different from the last—walks in carrying a tray. She hands me two small paper cups, one has three different colored pills in it, the other has a small amount of water. I am advised to take the medication so I do. She thanks me for my cooperation and leaves me alone again.
I've never realized how much I hate being alone until today.
