{"id":169,"date":"2013-07-21T12:07:08","date_gmt":"2013-07-21T12:07:08","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/?page_id=169"},"modified":"2013-07-21T12:07:08","modified_gmt":"2013-07-21T12:07:08","slug":"chapter-18","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/story\/chapter-18\/","title":{"rendered":"Chapter 18"},"content":{"rendered":"

Chapter 18<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

Life sucks, and then you die.<\/i><\/p>\n

I don’t give a damn what anyone says.\u00a0 That’s a fact of life.\u00a0 Period.\u00a0 It’s blunt, and it’s harsh.\u00a0 People hate hearing it.\u00a0 People hate a lot of what I have to say.\u00a0 But it’s honest.\u00a0 It’s reality.\u00a0 Reality ain’t ever been made of sunshine and roses, no matter what shit people try to spread around, whether it be through religion or another way.<\/i><\/p>\n

In therapy, I’m told to try and concentrate upon the positives.\u00a0 What positives?\u00a0 The fact that I’m an addict and need the help?\u00a0 The fact that I hurt my own mother, the woman who was my rock?\u00a0 Or let’s not forget the fact that I’m clinically depressed and am supposed to be medicated.\u00a0 Yeah, positives.\u00a0 I was told to do an assignment on the positives that day.\u00a0 I blew it off, and it ended up not mattering in the fucked scheme of things.<\/i><\/p>\n

But I think I’ll try it now.\u00a0 Positives…<\/i><\/p>\n

I’m alive.<\/i><\/p>\n

I’m not alone.<\/i><\/p>\n

I have been sober since Reaper\u2019s Sabbath, so far\u2026 (and, all things considered, that’s a damn miracle.)<\/i><\/p>\n

I’m alive.<\/i><\/p>\n

I’m alive.<\/i><\/p>\n

I’m alive.<\/i><\/p>\n

Guess there are some positives these days.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

Friday, April 13, 2012<\/b>
\n9:00 p.m.<\/b><\/p>\n

AJ glanced out the window as he completed his painting, simply contemplating the day’s events.\u00a0 It had been, overall, uneventful, in the grand scheme of the world, he figured, or even in his own life.\u00a0 Nothing life-altering for him that day.\u00a0 Simply therapy, where he\u2019d revealed more than he had wanted to.<\/p>\n

God, he had craved a drink worse than ever right then…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Alexander.”<\/i><\/p>\n

AJ tilted his shades down so the therapist could get a really good look at the cold, hard, steely gaze he was directing at him.\u00a0 No one called him Alexander these days.\u00a0 Even his mother had always called him Alex.\u00a0 Though now, she barely spoke to him at all.\u00a0 His fault, of course.\u00a0 He never blamed anyone else for what was his fault, and yes, that included the hell he considered rehab to be.\u00a0 He never figured rehab therapy sessions would be about twenty times worse, though.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cAJ.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cAlright, AJ\u2026\u201d\u00a0 His therapist was a meek-looking man, mousy eyes peeking through a set of thick lenses belonging to glasses with a thick, red frame.\u00a0 He sniffled a lot, and couldn\u2019t quite keep his slacks and dress shirt neat, like they should be.\u00a0 AJ figured the man probably had a lot of issues of his own.\u00a0\u00a0 It seemed to be why most people went into any career involving psychology.\u00a0 \u201cWe\u2019ll leave the positives as a special assignment for you; you can have it ready for our next private session.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

Private sessions.\u00a0 Then group sessions.\u00a0 Then group dinners.\u00a0 All he wanted was time to himself.\u00a0 Of course, that was a luxury denied to him these days.\u00a0 The therapist, Dr. Michola, eyed him with precisioned caution. \u00a0And all he wanted was to be out, honest to God, that was all, and it was all he could think about as well.\u00a0 Even the jail cell the rehab center considered to be a proper room had been upgraded to an improvement.<\/i><\/p>\n

“Come on, Alex, talk to me.”\u00a0 And now the bastard was doing that because AJ just didn’t want to answer the man’s questions.\u00a0 What was the point?\u00a0 No one could fix him.\u00a0 He was depressed; he knew that.\u00a0 He would have to take a new drug and fight his addictions to others.<\/i><\/p>\n

He was fucked up.\u00a0 That said it all, in his eyes.\u00a0 What was the point of having a therapist tell him again?<\/i><\/p>\n

“You told me when we first met that no one understood.\u00a0 Well, how will anyone understand you, if you won\u2019t tell me how you see things?\u00a0 Why don’t you try to make me understand?”<\/i><\/p>\n

Dr. Michola was met with silence once again.\u00a0 AJ was left with his thoughts as the words hung within the air before him.\u00a0 He knew he wouldn’t be allowed to leave, or he’d end up with a “special” session, unless he started talking.\u00a0 He knew this man would never actually get it, but he guessed he should at least throw the starving dog a bone.<\/i><\/p>\n

“Distanced…”<\/i><\/p>\n

The head of the other man snapped up almost immediately.\u00a0 It reminded him of an old jack-in-the-box he\u2019d had when he was five; it popped up, and the head broke off.\u00a0 A hint of a smirk appeared at the image of Dr. Michola’s head flying off.\u00a0 Wishful thinking; he wanted to happen.\u00a0 The smirk grew as he watched him hurriedly scribble some notes down.\u00a0 An actual response had almost put the man into shock.\u00a0 It amazed AJ, sometimes, how malleable people could be.<\/i><\/p>\n

Finally, the therapist met AJ’s shaded gaze once more.\u00a0 “How so?”<\/i><\/p>\n

AJ gave a slight shrug.\u00a0 He just had to fill the time until he was able to escape.\u00a0 “I always had people who cared about me.\u00a0 Family, friends, all that shit.”<\/i><\/p>\n

“Go on…”<\/i><\/p>\n

“But when they included me, when I knew I was involved in what they were doing, or fuck, their lives… I still felt separated.”<\/i><\/p>\n

“Yet you know you were part of it.”<\/i><\/p>\n

He knew the man wouldn’t grasp what he was trying to say.\u00a0 “Yeah, well, damn… it was like watching a movie.\u00a0 I could see it happening, feel like I was in the story.\u00a0 In the end, though, I was still outside of it.\u00a0 No matter how involved in the story I was.\u00a0\u00a0 Just like a movie, and I was just watching it.”<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He was supposed to have gone to group therapy earlier that evening.\u00a0 He\u2019d decided to blow it off, said he wasn’t feeling well.\u00a0 Which wasn’t too far from the truth.\u00a0 AJ wasn’t sick or anything; he just had a dark feeling nestled within the pit of his stomach.\u00a0 Something wasn’t right.\u00a0 Not that it ever was, but this was different.\u00a0 Worse.\u00a0 Darker.\u00a0 It was the sort of feeling a child would get just before a thunderstorm started \u2013 something they felt was bad was coming, and no one could stop it.<\/p>\n

AJ decided to leave his room and walk along the halls, into the lounge-styled room of the residence, where many of the other addicts at the facility were gathered around the television.\u00a0 “A new strain of virus has consumed the nation at an alarming rate.\u00a0 The CDC has been investigating the source of this unknown illness.\u00a0 Its early symptoms resemble a virulent version of the flu…”<\/i><\/p>\n

He turned away from the TV and looked back at the others, whom he\u2019d just now noticed were sitting in a semicircle, their hands linked together.\u00a0 One of them glanced up at AJ, as others coughed violently.\u00a0 “We’re going to pray for the poor souls infected.\u00a0 You can join us.”<\/p>\n

“I think it’s a sign…”<\/p>\n

“Half the country has it.”<\/p>\n

“Lord… hear our prayer…”<\/p>\n

AJ walked away without an answer to any of them.\u00a0 He was fed up with all of it.\u00a0 And the others\u2026\u00a0 A prayer circle?\u00a0 They thought that was the answer?<\/p>\n

He sat down on his bed, resting his head in his hands.\u00a0 There were no sounds to comfort him, no one there to tell him that his inner feelings were wrong this time.<\/p>\n

Did they really think God would save them?<\/p>\n

He couldn’t remember the last time he\u2019d actually believed in God.\u00a0 God was like Santa Claus, someone in whom only little kids or, in the case of religion, those who\u2019d had privileged lives could ever truly believe.\u00a0 The common link between kids and the faithful?\u00a0 They hadn’t had reality splash a cold dose of cruelty in their faces yet.\u00a0 It seemed so obvious to him that there was no God, that religion had been created as a way of controlling others, but then again, many things seemed obvious to AJ and not to others.<\/p>\n

And people thought there was something wrong with him<\/i>?<\/p>\n

He stood and walked slowly towards the corner of the room, where the easel waited before him.\u00a0 A glance to the right showed a worn, wooden box that sat upon his nightstand and was open to reveal brushes and a variety of paints.\u00a0 His gaze shifted back to his painting once more.\u00a0 His pictures were always darker than most people liked, and they were typically cynical in their imagery, but this one depicted an image even AJ found a bit disturbing.\u00a0 An image he couldn’t stomach if he looked at it too long.<\/p>\n

Little did he know just how accurate that image would soon become.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Chapter 18 Life sucks, and then you die. I don’t give a damn what anyone says.\u00a0 That’s a fact of life.\u00a0 Period.\u00a0 It’s blunt, and it’s harsh.\u00a0 People hate hearing it.\u00a0 People hate a lot of what I have to … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"parent":8,"menu_order":18,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"onecolumn-page.php","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"footnotes":""},"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/169"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=169"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/169\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":170,"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/169\/revisions\/170"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=169"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}