early2000s | fuckshit x oc | mid90s

December 23, 1999

It's the eve of Christmas Eve. Once again, fuck Christmas.

"Good morning Sir!" I hear above me.

I opened my eyes and tilted my head to stretch my neck. It was just that nurse again.

"What's your name?"

She must've told me before and I wasn't paying attention.

"You can call me Stella," she said, giving me a smile. "I just wanted to let you know that your parents should be here soon, again."

Whoop-dee-fucking-do.

"Thanks Stella," she nods and turns to leave.

I turn to the curtain, "Hey Jim, I'm going to rehab today."

The only response I got back was a loud snore. I turned away from the curtain and let out a big sigh. I'm going to rehab. I don't want to go. You can't force someone to get help if they don't want it. Being aware that I'm ruining my life is different from actually wanting to stop what I'm doing, and I'm just not at that point yet. I'll try, but I'm only doing this to have a place to stay. My parents don't have to know that though.

Just as I started to doze off, I heard a voice talk to me. Again.

"Hi honey!"

My mom was giving me her million dollar smile. Usually when I saw it, I would smile back. But today was not the day for that. My dad stood next to her, arms crossed.

"Have you made a decision?" my dad asked.

"It's not like I have a fucking a choice," I muttered to myself.

"What was that son?"

"I'll go," I mumbled.

"Go where?"

"Rehab," I snapped, staring him in the eye.

He clasped his hands together, "Well," he started. "I'm proud of you. You made the right choice."

I didn't say anything. I really had nothing to say.

My mom gave me a hug and kissed me on the forehead. I set my gaze on the curtain.

"I believe you can do this honey," she said.

"Well, we already packed your stuff up for you. You're just going to have to sign the discharge papers so we can get you to the center ASAP."

I had one burning question in my mind.

"How long am I staying?"

"I don't know," he shook his head. "I guess you'll see when you get there."

Fuck.

Stella came back in with the discharge papers and handed them to me. I took a quick glance at both of my parents. My mom looked like she was going to bite all of her nails off, and my dad stood there with an idle pose, matched with a nonchalant facial expression. I took a deep breath and gripped onto the pen. I didn't for sure know what I was signing, all I saw were the spots that said "sign here". I just wanted to get it over with.

I handed the clipboard back to Stella, who gave me a reassuring smile. I smiled back for the first time since I was admitted here.

"Good luck, I know you can do it," she said, extending her arm out toward me so I could get up.

I took her hand, "Thanks."

Stella nodded at me for the last time as she exited the room. My mom handed me a hoodie and pants to change into. They didn't even match, but I guess that's the least of my worries right now. I stared at her and my dad, they got the hint to turn around.

My mom got me my favorite beanie. I didn't say anything, but I appreciate that she thought of me for once. She put her arm around my shoulder and started leading me out of the hospital room. When we reached the door, I turned around to take my first look at Jim.

He wasn't at all what I was expecting. He looked like he was probably in his mid 30s, didn't really look like an everyday McDonald's eater, maybe Whole Foods. I was expecting a receding hairline, but it was far from that. Nigga had a full head of hair, definitely not beating mine though. I guess this is a lesson to not judge a book by its cover. Or a song by its artist? I don't know. But I'll miss this nigga. For real.

"Peace, Jim," I mumbled, as my parents led me away.