Mean Spirited by Nick Roberts & Crystal Lake Publishing & Crystal Lake Audio & Spencer Dillehay

Author:Nick Roberts & Crystal Lake Publishing & Crystal Lake Audio & Spencer Dillehay
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

4:02 AM

MATT RESTED IN his hospital bed wearing the standard blue ass-showing gown. There was a steady pulsating throb in his recently sutured palm. It hadn’t taken the nurses and doctor long to assess his real problem. His blood-alcohol level told them that he had been on a bender, but he admitted to having a problem. They said he’d experience some shakes in the next few hours, and they reminded him that alcohol withdrawals are no joke. Kicking other drugs might make you feel like you’re dying but shaking booze cold turkey can be fatal.

He couldn’t sleep. The obsession to drink came on strong.

It would be easy. Just check yourself out and pick up some beer on the way home and catch some Zs.

No. I can’t.

His body spasmed, and his heart fluttered as if reminding him that his system was due for another drink. As if on cue, the nurse with the short brown hair drew back the curtain to his room.

“How are you, Mr. Matheny?” she asked.

“Hand’s fine,” was all Matt felt like saying.

“Good. Is there something else wrong?”

Christ, does she want me to say it? We already went through this when the doctor was in here earlier.

“I’m, uh, I’m starting to . . . ”

“To what?”

“To really want a drink. I’m getting shaky. My heart feels like it’s skipping. Can’t keep my legs still.”

“We can get you something to help with the alcohol withdrawals. Let me grab the doctor.”

She turned around and stepped out, shutting the curtain behind her. Matt rolled over on his side and held his knees.

You’re an alcoholic.

I’m an alcoholic.

He thought of every student he had taught and what they would think if they could see him now, if they could see the guy who was tasked with teaching them not only the content but modeling good behavior and imparting life lessons. He knew they would think he was a piece of shit—a fraud. Like a crooked cop getting caught and having all his prior arrests called into question so too would his students question the validity of everything they had learned in Mr. Matheny’s senior English class.

Stop it. Stop with the self-pity.

The curtains swooshed open again, and Dr. Schwartz stepped in. He was a short, older man with a full head of graying hair and matching mustache.

“Hiya, Matt,” he said.

He walked closer to Matt’s head and read from a clipboard. He sighed and tapped it twice on the metal bed railing as he looked around the room like he was contemplating something.

“Everything OK, Doc?”

“Oh, I hope so. Your hand’s gonna be just fine, so don’t you worry about that.”

“I know. Thank you.”

Dr. Schwartz looked down at his patient.

“You wanna quit poisoning yourself with booze or have you not had enough yet?”

“I want to stop,” Matt said, thinking of Mikey and Lucy. “I have to stop.”

“Your body’s putting up a fight to prevent that from happening, isn’t it?”

Matt squirmed on the hard mattress.

“Yeah, it is.”

“When did you first notice the withdrawals? I mean, when was the first time they happened?”

“I don’t know.

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