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did. He washed down another handful of pills with the whiskey. He squirmed and sweated in the worn out little bed. The pity and the drugs, and the liquor tore away at him. He loathed himself for bullying Jenny. The loathing and the pity devoured his mind and soul like a tapeworm. All that was left was the self-pity and resentment for everyone around him. He didn't need any of them around, gawking at him like a wounded chick, abandoned by his momma bird. The tapeworm of thought ate away at his mind. She was the only one left gawking at him, the only object for his resentment. His perception was twisted. Each time he thought of the self-righteous little tramp, she had to be fooling around with half the guys in town, he despised her even more. The tapeworm was hungry. She was always gawking. She was there in the morning. She was back every afternoon. She probably brought her guys right to his living room. His parents were gone. He couldn't walk. There was nobody to interrupt her. He thought about his parents, retired in Florida. They had not visited in a while. They were older now, and his mother was not healthy. What did they care about him? They never even bothered to call.

The bed creaked loudly as he squirmed in silent pain. He took another long pull from the whiskey bottle. He didn't even realize he had opened the new bottle from the drawer of the nightstand. At least she kept his medications stocked. Exactly the way she should!
His pain and fidgeting worsened as his temper became more heated. His thoughts grew more erratic. Tears blurred his vision again. He hated his thoughts. He hated himself for hating Jenny. She was selfless and caring. He loved her so much, that he had to be mean to her. He wanted to push her away to save her from him. He cried openly. Bobby wondered if he could bear her treating him the same if she was hurt and he could walk! She wasn't hurt though! She could walk just fine! He was the one in pain! Bedridden! The tears kept coming. They changed between tears of sorrow, and tears of resentment.
He reached for the nightstand, fumbling around for his bottle of pills. He flipped open the cap with the tip of his thumb. Bobby had no time for child safety caps. He may be confined to a child's bed. He may be covered by the same Dukes of Hazzard' bedspread, he had begged for when he was ten years old. The same drab blue plaster walls that protected him as a child may surround him. But if he needed his medication, he needed it now.
Bobby tilted the bottle of pills up over his mouth, and shook out what he thought he needed to kill the pain. He tried to count each pill as it hit his tongue. He only took what he needed for the pain, no more. He probably didn't take enough the last time. It didn't matter anyway. By now his blood had to be toxic. The whiskey burned his throat as it helped the pills along. It flowed through more of his arteries than his blood did now.
Jenny would be back soon to check on him. She always came back. She would never let anything happen to him. She would come back during her lunch hour. She would bring him food. They would argue, he would yell and she would run away. It was all part of the cycle. She would be back before anything bad happened to Bobby.
*
Jenny sat slumped on her couch. Her eyelids fluttered sleepily. She tried to lift her chin. Her head just bobbed down in anticipation of sleep. The bottle of whiskey was almost empty. An empty bottle of pills was on the floor. Another one lay open and empty beside her on the couch. Jenny's head slumped lazily to her shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered again. Goodnight sleeping beauty.

Learn more about this author, RC Shivers.
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