Did someone around here say drugs? || Kathleen & Logan
Kathleen left her room without any good reason. It almost became her daily ritual, wandering around the hospital. Not that she expected to meet someone or see anything special. Befriending other patients was usually hard, most of them was getting irritated pretty soon. Kathleen could understand it. She chose not to hide her state of mind long ago - if she was in a bad mood, then she was. It was idiotic to bounce around and sing about flowers for someone as cursed as her. Depression was a tough bitch, she had to admit it.
However, it wasnāt really the biggest problem. She learned to live with dark thoughts long. What bothered her right now was withdrawal symptoms. Headache and sudden weakness were on a daily basis. The meds she was getting here kind of stabilized it, still it didnāt mean she got rid of all that stuff. The girl almost couldnāt sleep at night, during the day she walked around irritated. Or angry. Or resigned - it was still changing.
If only she could meet anyone who could actually help herā¦ This place was weird enough to have someone interested in drugs. Kathleen saw some patients smuggling cigarettes the other day. If they somehow got cigarettes, why couldnāt they get drugs? Still, it was hard to say if it was really impossible or drug dealers were sitting quiet. Kathleen noticed that patients arenāt into telling the whole truth.
The girl sat on the sofa in one of the dayrooms and looked around, noticing a few patients. She narrowed her eyes, tired of all these local secrets. "Is this place that fucked up, or anyone knows how to get drugs here?"
A few weeks after getting shipped to this hellhole, Logan had to admit that he was beginning to feel better. And by better, it only meant that Logan's head-splitting headaches were now just mind-numbing migraines that had nested inside his brain. Still, he had better control over his motor functions now, and though he was still pretty groggy, he could still meander through the house without the need of a cane or anything. Not that he had even used a cane in the first place; the damn things made him feel old and useless, which were two things that Logan Hale tried not to feel if he could help it. Besides, the doctors were encouraging him to get on his own two feet again because they were convinced that his being mobile was a sign of his getting better both physically and mentally.Ā
Like fuck it was.Ā
As Logan wandered through the house, he kept a frown on his face. He missed getting high, goddamn it. Most of his time outside had been spent snorting coke, drinking alcohol, doing meth, and often mixing drugs. He had been reckless even by a drug addict's standards, which, he figured got him landed in the house in the first place.Ā
Eventually, he got to one of the dayrooms. It was the first time he had been to this particular one, so he didn't really recognize any faces. Maybe he should've brought Lauren along for support; he didn't feel particuarly social today...Ā
Until he heard what was probably the most true sentence he had ever heard since he got to the hospital. Grinning, Logan walked up to the girl.Ā "You know, if you keep speaking like that, they'll put more surveillance on you to make sure that you're not going to smuggle drugs in." Ms. Grumpy-Face did have a point; if other people could sneak in tobacco, why couldn't the sneak in some LSD or meth or something as well?Ā
