Well Thought Out Twinkles

Disclaimer: I have to tell you; this stuff really happens when horrific alcoholics detox. I know he's not that bad in real life, well I don't really know. Anyways, for the sake of my art, he's a horrible alcoholic who has tried relentlessly to quit but can't. The more you try to detox from alcohol the worse it is the next time. So this is detox to the extreme. Now, enjoy.

I told them, my voice quivered, I told them to wait until withdrawals were over. I cried, begged, and pleaded for alcohol, just a taste, enough to wet my tongue. Anything. But those cruel bastards refused me.

My hands clenched at the white blanket, the calming colors did nothing but create a blank canvas for swirling color and detached limbs. Horror reigned in this desolate world. I blinked, trying helplessly to rid my eyes of the horrific images.

I saw the walls splatter with the blood of people that weren't even there. I saw fists land, knives stab and bodies fall.

I rubbed my eyes and assured myself it wasn't real. A fabrication, I told myself.

"Honey, I need you to answer me." The nurse said, she shook my arm lightly. I jumped out of my skin.

"Huh?" I asked.

"This is your third day here, I know you're going through detox but you have to answer some questions so we can help you. Now sit up, sugar." The large black woman helped me sit.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, pulled out a clipboard and a pen. She was sweet for a person who had a face like a bulldog.

"Are you a heavy drinker?" She asked, her pen in a ready hand.

My hand shook like a leaf, it was hard to speak, "In private."

She nodded as she wrote, "Have you tried to detox before, on your own?"

"Many time, of course I failed." She laughed, a spark of light in this dark world. That is until my sweet Alice gets here. She's like the sun.

This is the end, beautiful friend.

Her face twisted and distorted, like something from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. I rubbed my eyes and tried to flee from the image of a lizard woman.

"Lay back and rest, we'll give you something for pain." She said then pushed me. I saw a scaly, clawed hand reaching for me. I smacked her away, fled to the corner. My hair clung to my face wet with sweat.

--

I walked into the rehabilitation center. My heart was beating out of my chest, it's 3:45 A.M.. They called and said they needed me right away.

A woman, dressed in slouchy clothes approached me, "Are you Alice Margera?"

I nodded, "Yeah, what's wrong?"

She grabbed my arm and pulled me down the hall. All the rooms were dark, only the pathway was dimly lit. My heart raced, my blood boiled. I walked up six flights of stairs and onto the roof.

"He's been here since two." She said then led me onto the terrace. The rooftop was brilliantly lit by the full moon.

He was balled up in a corner, his bony arms wrapped around his legs. They were pulled up to his chest.

I ran over to him. He looked up at me, his eyes were bloodshot and swollen. He stood up as calm as can be, never once a change in energy exerted.

Not to touch the earth, not to see the sun. Nothing left to do but run, run run.

He smiled as he put his hand on my cheek. His hands were cold as ice.

"My sweet Alice." His face inched closer to mine, "Run with me."

"No." I said sternly. He stepped onto the ledge. He turned to face me and smiled his cocky smirk. I chilled to the bone.

"Get down from there, now!" I screamed. I didn't grab him from fear I'd knock him down.

He faced the edge and laughed, "I am the lizard king! I can do anything!"

My heart was beating a hundred pulses a second. He squatted on the ledge. I walked over to him, he kissed me and whispered in my ear.

"Let's leave, just me and you. We could be like Bonnie and Clyde."

I shook my head, "You don't know what you're talking about. Ville, you have to stay here. They're going to take care of you."

His eyebrows raised, "No. I am not staying here."

"Ville, you're detoxing. It will stop, just calm down." I said as I tried to get him to sit on the bed. He pushed me down and tried to leave. The woman at the door stopped him. She called for some help.

I tried to calm him down. I wrapped my arms around him. I kissed his cheek. I stroked his hair. It was hard to see him like this. He was suffering from dementia and hallucinations.

I don't think I'll ever forget, as long as I live, seeing him reaching out to me crying my name as they sedated him. He was clinging on to that one last bit of control he had left.

Riders on the storm, into this house we're born, into this world we're thrown.