spaceadel
New Member
Jer's day had started very early. Plagued by nightmares and demons, he had been up since about 3 that morning. In order to not be disturbed, he ended up pretending to be asleep until around 7 a.m. when the nurse came in to give him his medicine. Today was going to be one of those really bad days for him, he could feel it in his bones. Just like he did every morning, he asked the nurse if he could take his food back to his room so he could be left alone. The nurse, just like every other morning, said no and that he should socialize, which he avoided like the plague. It would help with his recovery. If he made friends, overcoming his substance abuse would be easier. Jer snorted indignantly and rolled his eyes, just as he did every morning. The last thing he wanted was to socialize. The only friends he wanted were the ones that were out there in the real world. He wanted to be with them. Running a hand through his hair in frustration, the male watched as she walked away, glaring icily into her back. Even after being here for almost two months, he still had the most sour attitude about being "treated". For while, the man continued to sit on his bed, glaring at the door, before he finally rose to his feet and changed into a pair of dark blue jeans and a plain black shirt.
The shadow that always followed him was by the wall, but he refused to acknowledge it, for now, deliberately keeping his gaze away from it. Once the medication kicked in, he probably wouldn't see the thing for a while, anyway. "Please let me just make it through this damn day without a problem," he muttered to himself. Somehow, he knew his prayers would be in vain; the shakes and sweats were already starting. Gritting his teeth, the male grabbed a navy blue sweatshirt and pulled it over his head as he walked out of his room and towards the cafeteria. At least the long sleeves would hide some of the sweat that was beginning to form all over his body. When he arrived at the cafeteria, he deliberately ignored everyone and approached the line for food, grabbing only some orange juice and a couple pieces of toast. Jer could feel nausea rising in his stomach and he didn't want to push his luck by eating too much. Because of the sickness that overcame him, he had lost at least ten pounds during his stay here, but he kept hoping it would improve. If he had to go sober, he at least better get something out of it.
With his meager plate of food, the male quickly scanned the room for an empty table, keeping his gaze icy to deter conversations. Finally, he found an empty one in the corner, his favorite seat, and made his way over to the table. Sitting down, the male looked at the food on his plate; it looked extremely unappetizing today, but he knew he would have to eat something or the nurses would be all over him. Taking a deep breath, Jer picked up a piece of toast and bit into it, chewing gingerly. Once he had swallowed the bite he set the toast down and ran a hand through his dark brown hair. A few strands had begun to stick to his forehead from the sweat and he was feeling rather weak. Some days were better than others for his withdrawal; today was probably going to be a bad one. Reaching for his cup, he tried to take a sip of orange juice, but only felt more nausea. Groaning quietly, he set the cup down with a trembling hand and sighed. He was going to be here a while. Anxiety rose in his chest, as it often did. God he needed a fix. How was he supposed to kick this habit if it made him feel like crap to just be sober? Resting his head on the table, the male glared at the wall, chewing incessantly on his lip.
The shadow that always followed him was by the wall, but he refused to acknowledge it, for now, deliberately keeping his gaze away from it. Once the medication kicked in, he probably wouldn't see the thing for a while, anyway. "Please let me just make it through this damn day without a problem," he muttered to himself. Somehow, he knew his prayers would be in vain; the shakes and sweats were already starting. Gritting his teeth, the male grabbed a navy blue sweatshirt and pulled it over his head as he walked out of his room and towards the cafeteria. At least the long sleeves would hide some of the sweat that was beginning to form all over his body. When he arrived at the cafeteria, he deliberately ignored everyone and approached the line for food, grabbing only some orange juice and a couple pieces of toast. Jer could feel nausea rising in his stomach and he didn't want to push his luck by eating too much. Because of the sickness that overcame him, he had lost at least ten pounds during his stay here, but he kept hoping it would improve. If he had to go sober, he at least better get something out of it.
With his meager plate of food, the male quickly scanned the room for an empty table, keeping his gaze icy to deter conversations. Finally, he found an empty one in the corner, his favorite seat, and made his way over to the table. Sitting down, the male looked at the food on his plate; it looked extremely unappetizing today, but he knew he would have to eat something or the nurses would be all over him. Taking a deep breath, Jer picked up a piece of toast and bit into it, chewing gingerly. Once he had swallowed the bite he set the toast down and ran a hand through his dark brown hair. A few strands had begun to stick to his forehead from the sweat and he was feeling rather weak. Some days were better than others for his withdrawal; today was probably going to be a bad one. Reaching for his cup, he tried to take a sip of orange juice, but only felt more nausea. Groaning quietly, he set the cup down with a trembling hand and sighed. He was going to be here a while. Anxiety rose in his chest, as it often did. God he needed a fix. How was he supposed to kick this habit if it made him feel like crap to just be sober? Resting his head on the table, the male glared at the wall, chewing incessantly on his lip.