Date: Thu, 19 Apr 2001 19:54:04 +0200
From: Aaron . <loveactivist@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Watching You Without Me" Ch. 4

I'm sorry this chapter is so short, and I'm sorry it is so *dark* and
*depressing*, but I had a bit of a mini-crisis circa 1997, and this is what
bubbled forth from my head...

Disclaimer: None of this happened; it is all a figment of my poor, poor
deranged psyche. This story is not meant to imply anything about anyone,
and it is for entertainment purposes only. This story is copywritten by me


"Watching You Without Me"

Aaron DeLorean


*Chapter Four*

___________________________________

"Can't let you know
What's been happening.
There's a ghost in our home,
Just watching you without me.
I'm not here." --Kate Bush
___________________________________


	I awoke that morning with sweat dripping form my body. My head was
pounding and throbbing with the familial tattoo, "Pain, Pain, Pain." I
stumbled into the bathroom; reached into my cosmetic bag. I popped the tops
off of the little orange bottles. I counted out twelve Ativan, twelve
Vicodin, and Twelve Haldol.  Twelve was the magic number. If I could take
enough of the pills in groups of twelve then everything would be all
right. My head would stop pounding; my blood would stop beating against my
skin, pushing to get out.
	I lined the pills up on the counter, poured a glass of water, and
took them one by one. Down, down, down, until the sweat stopped running out
of my pores.  I stumbled back into the room to get dressed. I had to hurry
or I'd be late.  I pulled on a pair of plaid shorts, and a black
t-shirt. Someone pounded on my door.  It was the kind of pounding that was
not going to go away just because I ignored it.  I took a deep breath; my
heart was beating too fast. I ignored it and slowly walked to the door, one
foot in front of the other, deliberately. I pulled back the door and there
stood A.J. He took one look at me as his eyes widened into deep brown
saucers. I stared at him, teetering on my two very clumsy, very drugged,
feet.
	"Holy shit Aaron you look terrible!"
	I closed my eyes trying to will away the beating of the drum that
was my heart. I looked back at A.J. and I couldn't hear what he was
saying. His mouth was moving-I could see that, but I didn't hear
anything. Nothing but the beat of my own heart, the orbit that my own body
had created around the years of drug- use. The room seemed to tilt as the
floor rushed up at me. I pitched forward in A.J.'s direction. He caught
me. I could see his eyes widen and his mouth move rapidly. I couldn't hear
him. I opened my mouth to speak.
	"I think I'm dieing."
	My eyes closed as I slipped into unconsciousness.


It was warm. Dark. I could hear voices. I opened my eyes and was greeted
with the harsh light of overhead fluorescents. I smelled The Smell.  I
closed my eyes again; I was in the hospital.  My stomach heaved and I felt
heat swim around my body from the inside out. I heard someone call,
	"He's awake!"
	Bustle. I felt the bed move as a woman in scrubs leaned over me and
adjusted the IV drip. She held the wrist of my left hand in hers. She
listened. She listened to my heart. I noticed my mouth was dry and I could
taste charcoal.  It had been a long time since I had had my stomach pumped,
but I remembered that taste-that dry, fire taste, like you had swallowed a
truck-tire whole.  The nurse looked at me,
	"How do you feel?" I laughed sarcastically, how the fuck did she
THINK I felt? I closed my eyes,
	"My throat hurts." The nurse looked down at me disdainfully.
	"Well that TENDS to happen when you have your STOMACH PUMPED."  She
shook her head, sighed, and walked out. I could tell she thought I was one
of those mystery-junkies who are in and out of hospitals at least once a
week.  I noticed then that there were other people in my room. I surveyed
the cramped space. A.J., Tori, and Jaycee were all tightly gathered in a
huddle at the foot of my bed. Tori had tears running down her
cheeks. A.J. spoke softly,
	"Why'd you do it Aaron?" Tori burst into tears. I turned my head
away from them all.
	"I just wanted it all to stop." I answered quietly. The image of
the Kurt Cobain poster that hung in my living room popped into my head. I
could see the white block letters burning into my eyelids: "I hate myself
and I want to die." Tori took a shuddering breath as A.J. took my hand. A
lone tear fell from my eyes as I fell into sleep.


To Be Continued..............