Friday, May 13, 2011

Cutter, part 4

Her name was Sue. And she wanted to ask questions. They always did. I looked at Joe out of the corner of my eye to get my fix. His distraught face was the only drug I needed. Right on cue, a tear rolled down his cheek.
I was used to the drill, knew all the right things to say to get myself admitted. Just enough, but not too much, like the blue pills. If you said too much they might lock you away somewhere more permanent. Somewhere where they kept you longer than the 3-5 days I was counting on.
The unit was like so many others before; grey and puke green. I guess they considered the colors soothing. At least this time I got my own room. The last place I was at made me share with this suicidal girl who snored. That really sucked. I got out of there as quick as I could.