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“I’m sorry,” Vin shakes, he’s promised that this won’t happen again, that he’s going to stop. He can’t stop. His hands tremble, his nose runs, dripping deep red onto the light carpet, and he swears he sees something out of the corner of his eyes, a man towering above him. That’s not important right now, as his friends Evan and Jeff huddle around him, Jeff pulling a packet of pocket tissues from his back pocket.
“God, you look like shit, do we need to call the hospital? I mean, fuck, it’s better then you dying right here,” Evan offers as Jeff pries his body off the ground. God, he’s so dizzy. When was the last time he slept?
“No, no, it’s okay,” Vinny closes his eyes, the dark room just a little too bright. Music plays faintly from outside the door. Jeff reaches over to his face and dabs at the blood running down, and Vin feels his hand wipe away sweat. “I’m just-I’m just a bit drunk,”
“I think that’s an understatement,” Evan and Jeff look at each other. “When did you relapse?” Jeff asks, looking him over with a soft voice. Vinny isn’t sure what he’s referring to. He feels so dizzy. The room feels like it’s spinning at twenty miles a minute.
“Vince? Vince?” Evan shoves his arm. Vinny groans.
“I’m-I’m alright, okay? It was-it was just a few months ago, I don’t even know, I’ve lost track at this point,” He says, rubbing his face. He can’t even remember what he took tonight. All he knows is that he can’t stop sweating, that the people around him seem distant and unreal. He doesn’t feel real either.
“I think you need to go to a hospital…” Jeff says quietly, and Evan silently agrees, nodding very quickly.
“You look like someone ripped all the meat off your fuckin’ bones, man,” Evan adds on. Vinny rolls his eyes. He’s fine, right? He can’t remember the last time he ate. It was definitely yesterday, right? Or maybe it was the day before. Or the day before. Or the day before. Or the day before. Maybe it had been three or four. He didn’t fucking know. It didn’t matter.
“I don’t need to go to a hospital I’m-I’ve just not been sleeping right,” He tries to reason, wiping his face. It’s fine. He’s fucking fine. He’s just lost track of time. Coming here was a shitty idea. It was a shitty idea. Shitty, shitty, shitty idea. His friends look at eachother like he’s some kind of freak. Like this was totally crazy. And it makes him feel more sick then he already is.
“How about we just get out of here?” Evan says, hoisting his friend off the floor. Vinny feels the whole room expand, and he feels so dizzy he begins to gag. He doesn’t protest. He can’t. He doesn’t have the energy. When they leave the quiet bedroom, it’s like an attack. The sounds pour in, melting him down to nothingness. He barely feels it as he’s dragged across the house. He feels his head pounding, and he feels as if he’s caving in on himself, imploding over and over. He hears someone say his name, but he doesn’t register it. He keeps moving, barely dragging his feet along.
Once he’s outside the house, he realices the person saying his name has been Evan. He looks up, realizing that he’s sitting on the curb of some college house party, nose gushing blood. He can’t hear whatever the guy is saying, but he realizes Jeff is gone and Evan is still talking to him. He gets fingers snapped in his face, and it brings him back.
“What the hell did you take, man? I have never fucking seen you this off your damn rocker,” Evan holds a hand on my shoulder, almost begging him to stay grounded. He shakes his head, running hands through his overgrown long hair. “Seriously, what was it? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me,”
“I don’t know,” It’s pathetic when it comes out of his mouth. It feels like an excuse. Like he’s giving up. “I don’t know,” he repeats, quieter and laced with more anxiety. His vice shakes. His hand shakes. He’s like a little dog. All of him vibrates, unable to keep focus. He’s been caught. He’s been caught and the worst part is that these people care. He wishes they didn’t. He wishes they loved it. Vinny wishes these people could praise him, encourage him, instead of sitting here and babying him at this fucking party. He wishes that they wanted him to suffer like he did that they would tell him it was okay to stop eating that it was ok to stop sleeping. Maybe it was self punishment. Maybe it was something deeper.
“That’s okay, that’s okay, there’s no need to start freakin’ out, buddy,” Evan puts a hand on his friends shoulder; pulling the guy into a half hug. He pats Vinny’s shoulder, probably still in an attempt to keep the guy from freaking out. It was a little too late. He’s done this so many times. He’s tired of it. Of relying on everyone else to fix his mess. But he felt helpless. It was exhausting. He remembers passing out at his grandma’s house trying to light a cigarette, where he had been hospitalized and sent to a psych ward for anarexia and then instantly forced into a rehab center directly after. He knew she was only looking out for him.
Still, he wishes she didn’t. He wishes that maybe he could just rot away right here, become nothing but decaying body. This is when Jeff gets back with a bag of some kind of fast food, and a drink. He passes Vinny the drink, which he takes with ease, but he’s more hesitant when he’s passed the bag of food. He drinks about half of his water, then after Jeff basically harrassed him with his eyes, he starts to nibble at the meal. It feels good, but it makes him feel sick. Guillty. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve these people. But he had them. Maybe that said something about them. That they were better people then he could ever be. It made him feel just a bit better about eating a shitty burger on the curb outside of a party.