Spike Me and Save Me
Still Feel Nothing
Ray’s P.O.V.
“It’s just that…” I stopped myself, dreading my thought – if I didn’t say it out loud, maybe it wouldn’t be true.
“What?” Bob asked, encouraging me to finish my sentence.
“Well… He hasn’t been this way since… the drugs.” Hopefully that wasn’t the case. He’d told me it wasn’t and I believed him, but he had been weird these last few weeks. The throwing up 5 days ago had made me think about it more. We had all tried talking to him, but he had rejected us all. He had isolated himself, just like he had when he was doing drugs. It was a short period, but I’ll never forget it. He was so far out – so depressed that it was hard to even look at him. I helped him get off the drugs. The pain of the abstinence was easier to watch, than the pain of his mind.
“You think…” Bob started, but stopped himself – probably for the same reason as mine. Mikey and Worm were just sitting in the couch – staring at nothing. Mikey had covered his lips with his index finger, placing his thumb under his chin. Worm seemed as if he ignored the conversation – almost denied it. Sometimes he would snap out of his gaze, look at his phone or his watch and then slowly fade back into a stare-down with nothing.
“He told me he isn’t, but…” I said. I swallowed the lump in my throat before I continued. “Last Tuesday I went back to the bus, and he was… throwing up.” Mikey’s eyes shot up at me – filled with disbelief.
“He said he wasn’t doing drugs or alcohol and I believed him, but seriously; it’s similar.” I said quickly – my pain obvious in my voice. Mikey’s eyes went blank, and I knew he realized this could be true.
Suddenly Frank stepped out of the bus. The bus door was open because of the heat in there. It always got insanely hot on the bus during the night.
“Hey, man”, Mikey said quietly, as he went back into his gaze. Frank went and sat on the bench on the other side of the lame-ass plastic table and lit a cigarette. We all just sat there quietly for a minute, before Worm broke the silence as he snapped out of his gaze.
“So you think he’s back on drugs?”
Frank’s head shot up – eyes fixating on Worm’s thick glasses. After a second or two, his eyes relaxed and shifted into light fear. I could tell he started to realize that it might be true – it could be drugs.
I shook my head lightly and slowly, not knowing what to answer. A yes would be too definite – to final.
Frank had lowered his head, now staring at his cigarette hanging loosely between his index and middle finger.
Frank’s P.O.V.
I flicked my cigarette to knock off the ashes. Is it drugs?
I looked up at the bus windows. I wasn’t able to see through them because of the tinted windows, but I knew exactly where Gerard’s bunk was. I stared towards it, my stare so strong that it seemed to burn through the steel and plastic of the bus. I imagined Gerard lying in his bunk. Sleeping. Or so it seemed. He turned around. His eyes were blood-shot, yet happy. Intoxicated.
My heart stung. Ached. Gerard was hurting – I was hurting.
“I’m gonna get some coffee”, Ray said as he got up and walked onto the bus. I can tell him, right?
I threw my halfway-finished cigarette on the ground and stepped on it, as I got up and followed Ray.
“Good idea”, I said to the others, before I stepped onto the bus and went towards Ray. He was pouring the smoking coffee into a black mug, when I stopped beside the sink.
“You want some”, Ray asked and held the coffee pot out towards me.
“Not just now”, I said, and he put the pot back into the machine. “Ray?” I said as I tilted my head – indicating that I was looking for eye contact. He looked up at me with nothing but question in his look. Okay. I don’t have to tell him everything – just the important part.
I swallowed before I continued.
“Listen”, I whispered. ”Gerard acted really weird this morning. He got up at, like, 3:30 and then went onto the stage, just to have a smoke.” I paused for a bit, trying to pull myself together to say the next part.
“I think you may be right. About the drugs. His behaviour – it’s just so weird.” I tried not to sound too whiny. “I’m really worried.”
“Yeah, me too”, Ray whispered back, before he put the mug up to his mouth and took a small sip.
“What should we do?” I asked, still in a hush voice.
“I don’t know”, Ray simply answered. I felt like I couldn’t breathe properly. What if he goes too far this time? What if it kills him?
“It’s just that…” I stopped myself, dreading my thought – if I didn’t say it out loud, maybe it wouldn’t be true.
“What?” Bob asked, encouraging me to finish my sentence.
“Well… He hasn’t been this way since… the drugs.” Hopefully that wasn’t the case. He’d told me it wasn’t and I believed him, but he had been weird these last few weeks. The throwing up 5 days ago had made me think about it more. We had all tried talking to him, but he had rejected us all. He had isolated himself, just like he had when he was doing drugs. It was a short period, but I’ll never forget it. He was so far out – so depressed that it was hard to even look at him. I helped him get off the drugs. The pain of the abstinence was easier to watch, than the pain of his mind.
“You think…” Bob started, but stopped himself – probably for the same reason as mine. Mikey and Worm were just sitting in the couch – staring at nothing. Mikey had covered his lips with his index finger, placing his thumb under his chin. Worm seemed as if he ignored the conversation – almost denied it. Sometimes he would snap out of his gaze, look at his phone or his watch and then slowly fade back into a stare-down with nothing.
“He told me he isn’t, but…” I said. I swallowed the lump in my throat before I continued. “Last Tuesday I went back to the bus, and he was… throwing up.” Mikey’s eyes shot up at me – filled with disbelief.
“He said he wasn’t doing drugs or alcohol and I believed him, but seriously; it’s similar.” I said quickly – my pain obvious in my voice. Mikey’s eyes went blank, and I knew he realized this could be true.
Suddenly Frank stepped out of the bus. The bus door was open because of the heat in there. It always got insanely hot on the bus during the night.
“Hey, man”, Mikey said quietly, as he went back into his gaze. Frank went and sat on the bench on the other side of the lame-ass plastic table and lit a cigarette. We all just sat there quietly for a minute, before Worm broke the silence as he snapped out of his gaze.
“So you think he’s back on drugs?”
Frank’s head shot up – eyes fixating on Worm’s thick glasses. After a second or two, his eyes relaxed and shifted into light fear. I could tell he started to realize that it might be true – it could be drugs.
I shook my head lightly and slowly, not knowing what to answer. A yes would be too definite – to final.
Frank had lowered his head, now staring at his cigarette hanging loosely between his index and middle finger.
Frank’s P.O.V.
I flicked my cigarette to knock off the ashes. Is it drugs?
I looked up at the bus windows. I wasn’t able to see through them because of the tinted windows, but I knew exactly where Gerard’s bunk was. I stared towards it, my stare so strong that it seemed to burn through the steel and plastic of the bus. I imagined Gerard lying in his bunk. Sleeping. Or so it seemed. He turned around. His eyes were blood-shot, yet happy. Intoxicated.
My heart stung. Ached. Gerard was hurting – I was hurting.
“I’m gonna get some coffee”, Ray said as he got up and walked onto the bus. I can tell him, right?
I threw my halfway-finished cigarette on the ground and stepped on it, as I got up and followed Ray.
“Good idea”, I said to the others, before I stepped onto the bus and went towards Ray. He was pouring the smoking coffee into a black mug, when I stopped beside the sink.
“You want some”, Ray asked and held the coffee pot out towards me.
“Not just now”, I said, and he put the pot back into the machine. “Ray?” I said as I tilted my head – indicating that I was looking for eye contact. He looked up at me with nothing but question in his look. Okay. I don’t have to tell him everything – just the important part.
I swallowed before I continued.
“Listen”, I whispered. ”Gerard acted really weird this morning. He got up at, like, 3:30 and then went onto the stage, just to have a smoke.” I paused for a bit, trying to pull myself together to say the next part.
“I think you may be right. About the drugs. His behaviour – it’s just so weird.” I tried not to sound too whiny. “I’m really worried.”
“Yeah, me too”, Ray whispered back, before he put the mug up to his mouth and took a small sip.
“What should we do?” I asked, still in a hush voice.
“I don’t know”, Ray simply answered. I felt like I couldn’t breathe properly. What if he goes too far this time? What if it kills him?