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 Loganâs 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.Â
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 addictâs standards, which, he figured got him landed in the house in the first place.Â
Eventually, he got to one of the dayrooms. It was the first time he had been to this particular one, so he didnât really recognize any faces. Maybe he shouldâve brought Lauren along for support; he didnât feel particuarly social todayâŠÂ
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. âYou know, if you keep speaking like that, theyâll put more surveillance on you to make sure that youâre not going to smuggle drugs in.â Ms. Grumpy-Face did have a point; if other people could sneak in tobacco, why couldnât the sneak in some LSD or meth or something as well?Â
yousharknotpass
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
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