The Thirteenth Step: Chapter 2

Maddy peeked out from under the gray standard-issue military blanket she used to isolate herself from the world. This time she was certain she had heard yelling. She glanced upward and noticed that neither of the 3x1 windows near the ceiling were showing any hint of sunlight. That meant morning was at least a few hours away and her meds had all but worn out. Maddy groaned outwardly. Restful sleep came too infrequently, and Maddy was never in a hurry to be rushed back to this lonliness.

Maddy sat up in bed and hung her head forward letting all of her matted graying hair flow over her face. She reached at it trying to run her fingers through but was unsuccessful. It had been at least two years since she cut it and about a year and a half since she stopped caring about her personal hygiene. Since she stopped caring about everything really.

That was the last time she had visited Dr. Culligan Manchester, a man who until that time had been a friend to her and her husband. During her one and only session of chemotherapy it was he who broke the news to her regarding the death of her family. It was he who suggested that she move into this place with the rubber walls and the mindless apes. It was he who explained to her the benefits of using drugs to stay alive. He told her, almost compassionately, that there would be light at the end of the tunnel.

Obviously he was one who didn't know what it was like to live at the end. And had to run up ahead just to find out what that light was really going to be. With those words it was he, who in effect, removed all hope. Such thoughts of those from her past did not frequently visit Maddy on account of her meds. And for this she was grateful. Who wished to live in the land of was? Surely not Maddy, surely not anyone whose entire life is now was.

Becoming aggravated with her own thoughts Maddy bent over to pick up a half-empty gallon in order to placate the dryness of her mouth. As she pressed the plastic to her lips she hoped she had picked up one of the gallons with water, and not one filled with piss and shit that she used to relieve herself - though, she realized, it didn't matter much to her either way.

Still unsure as to what she had drunken Maddy wiped her mouth with the back of her arm somewhat satisfied. Placing the gallon on her nightstand she stood up and crossed from one wall of her room to the other in thirteen short shuffled steps. In her time here she had paced this room thousands of times...back and forth...back and forth, always thirteen.

But as one dependent on others Maddy was used to playing this waiting game. Like everything else she did, it was not enjoyable to her, but it was the deed that required the least from her. Twice a week she waited for the person, her savior, to bring her the lifeblood on which she lived. Three gallons of water, some non-perishables, and her meds - a veritable grab bag of pills, both prescription and non. A total amalgamation of drugs to take her up, down, left, right on a goddamn Wonka-vator of highs.

That is what she was in need of now, but at this hour instead of finding nectar in her hallway she would only find calamity. Nothing Maddy was afraid of, or couldn't handle, just the type of shit she would rather not deal with. It wasn't horrible enough to match her own life for her to care. So as she heard the repeated thud of a man's hollow head hitting the floor she laid down to cover herself once again. The man's labored breathing; the sound of life fighting to stay alive became her metronome. Maddy drifted off again hoping the nightmare of a darker, colder, more fucked up world than this would find her.