This was no way to live. Grinding a coated mixture of Oxycodone and Acetaminphen between teeth everyday, sometimes multiple times a day, fed a habit that grew wildly. Sometimes in spurts. Most nights he fell out of bed, dragging himself across the floor to find the nearest bag. One bottle gone. The next left with only one. One was never enough.
That was no way to live. Nathan's life was pretty sad when he found a spiraling escape route into lala land, along with it's friend Mary Jane. A bottle of Jack to the side of him and a few percs to wash down the pain. Physical distress in extremities from a series of accidents and incidents that claimed more out of him than he admit to, caused this pain. More deeper than dull aches and cold piss poor weather could ever do, was the rooted pain that no medication could get rid of.
That was no way to live. Slade, had enough of this blundering fool's crutches, including the bottle he held in his hand. Tossing it up in the air while pacing through the empty locker room. Towel about the waist, recently stepped out of the shoulder, his body was hot, so was the air around him. He looked at the yellow bottle as eyes side up and down, following the projectile's distance until grabbing it in the middle of his palm.
There was no way to survive and live on a dependency to Nate's lifeline. He walked through the aisle of lockers after rummaging through the bag, and took steps back towards the bathrooms, claiming a stall for himself. He didn't pass anyone on the way in the wee hours of the gym's 24hr schedule. His privacy was his, making sure to teach himself a lesson. Nathan would learn to bear the pain. To live off of it and use it for something greater than self-depreciation. Slade knew he had potential but was more disgusted that Nathan didn't believe so. Giving up was where he was going, and Slade wouldn't have any of it.
Toilet water gobbled up the free falling white pills as he did away with it. Watching it fall down mouth of the toilet, and laughing to himself. He didn't feel any pain, no more than he could in a body that was taken over for a far superior personality. He felt it that morning, things healing, taking it's place, back realigning, knee almost as new. He wasn't young again, no but age as well as previous injuries was no factor to worry about any longer. Slade dampened his bottom lip after hitting the handle. He stepped away, carelessly dropping the bottle along the floor and washing his hands away with it.