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myosotisa · 11 months

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Like Real People Do - e.m.

Part 1/2 - Why were you digging?

ǁ summary: 30 days into your stay at the Betty Ford Center for Rehabilitation, Eddie Munson gets brought in against his will. While in the middle of trying to figure out your own issues, you find yourself being followed around by a detoxing rockstar who won't take a hint and get lost.

ǁ tags: angst, hurt/comfort, heavy themes. depictions of inpatient rehab in the 90s. implied fem!Reader, no pronouns used, no y/n. strangers to reluctant acquaintances to lovers.

ǁ content warning: both parts will contain mentions of drug use, struggling with addiction, self worth, society's view on drug users, grief, and death by drug overdose. brief mention of domestic violence and drug assisted disordered eating. please consume thoughtfully and if you have any questions before reading, feel free to message me.

ǁ word count: 7k

ǁ Part 2 ǁ Read on AO3 ǁ

The lock on your door clunks open at exactly 8am every morning. A glaring alarm that your new day is about to start whether you want it to or not.

At 8:15, one of the workers on staff is barely knocking before pushing in to make sure you and your roommate will be ready for breakfast at 8:30 sharp.

At 8:30, you’re standing in line with everyone else to get your morning meds. Amoxaphine for depression. Atenolol for high blood pressure. Methadone for opioid withdrawal. Acamprosate for alcohol withdrawal.

A little paper cup of water to wash them all down, your mouth presented to prove you did actually swallow them, and then a verbal pat on the back before sending you over to the breakfast line.

A styrofoam plate of scrambled eggs and toast with jam on a plastic tray, balanced carefully with a cup of whatever juice they decided to buy this week. Carefully set down on one of the small tables by the window where you’ll sit and eat alone – appreciating the quiet and serenity for the few moments a day you get it before you’re shoved off to the next task.

The same thing for the past 28 days since you were deposited in the Betty Ford Center. You’d gone from euphoric, cold, and totally out of it to anxious, shaky, unable to sleep, and just fucking miserable. And while some days were getting easier and others seemed more difficult than ever, at least you had gotten into the routine of inpatient rehab. At least you knew to expect the same thing everyday. At least you were prepared to deal with what the external world threw at you.

Until you weren’t.

The moment the doors to the main hall are thrown open – impacting the opposing walls with a slam – you get an overwhelming feeling that something is about to change. Something big.

“Hey fucker! Hey! Get your meat hands off me, lughead.”

Most of the heads in the room turn toward the source of the yelling, a parade of 5 coming through the double doors. Two you know, the medical director Mr. Ford and one of the doctors Dr. Lincoln. They both look annoyed and uncomfortable as they walk ahead of a set of 3 men.

Flanked on either side by a buff orderly, getting borderline dragged across the floor, is a man you’ve never seen. His long, messy waves whip wildly around his head as he lets out expletives and pulls against the sharp hold on his biceps. His voice is ragged and slurred as he makes nonsensical arguments towards the two men leading him away. He’s in regular clothes – outside clothes – with torn jeans and metal chains hanging off his hips, ripped sleeves showing off his tattooed arms, and large rings on every finger.

Someone new?

Having gotten their eyeful, half the room goes back to pushing around their breakfasts with plastic cutlery while the other half continues to watch with amusement. A new person only comes through every 15 days or so, and this was only the second since you’d arrived. The first one, a meek boy named Thomas, had been admitted so quietly that he all of the sudden appeared one day in group, already through the worst of the detox, before you had ever even heard of him.

It makes you wonder if more inpatient admissions are like that or like this.

You wish you could remember yours.

In a whirl of movement, the man rips his arms free and flies backwards with a stumble. Had he been more coordinated, and probably more sober, than he is, he might have made a decent break for it. As he is, he’s barely able to turn toward the doors they came through before the men are grabbing him again from behind, hooking their arms around his to now actually drag him down the hallway toward the hospital wing.

The heels of his black boots drag against the beige tile floor as he slumps in their grip, eyelids fluttering slightly before he manages to bring back enough energy to yell another, “Fuck you!” at his captors.

Just before they disappear behind another set of locked down double doors, the two of you make eye contact. From this distance, you can still see how bloodshot his eyes are – deep brown ringed by red toned white. They are steadily falling closed with each blink as he most likely loses the fight against some kind of sedative. But somehow, with what must be the last moments of consciousness he has left, he sees you watching him. The corner of his mouth tilts up in a lazy smirk. And he winks.

The motherfucker winks at you right as his head lulls to the side before falling forward and the group of 5 disappears.

Something new indeed.

You don’t see the stranger again until 6 days later.

New admissions normally spend anywhere from 3 days to a week and a half in the hospital wing after arriving. IV fluids, heavy meds, and a more prepared medical staff to deal with the worst of the detox period. Depending on what you were on, how recently you took it compared to when you arrived, and the length of your addiction makes a huge difference in how much time you spend there before being sent back to the rest of the floor.

4 days is average, which is the amount of time you spent in the hospital wing before being put into room 102 with Melissa Redding. Teen beauty queen of the Betty Ford Center who got hooked on meth after a consultant for the pageant used it to help her lose weight.

The center had a neat little tradition of having your roommate show you around on the first day. For you, that had meant busy bee Melissa whispering in your ear in and outs of who was who and all of the drama entailed even though you didn’t care in the slightest. That continued through the rest of the day as she showed you around the main hall, gave you a tour of the garden during your mandated 1 hour of outside time, and into the Therapy House.

While she had initially been excited to have a roommate, she very quickly learned you would not be the entertainment she wanted. So she went back to gossiping with Kathy the housewife, who was in for a bad habit of using too much Adderall to get through the day with her kids. Leaving you to your own devices.

It was better that way.

You’re already in your seat by the window with breakfast by the time the stranger stumbles in after Howard, the gruff old man whose family sent him here for drinking too much (drinks the same amount as any other man his age, but who are you to judge?). He gets right into the med line, now half diminished due to their late arrival, and doesn’t seem to pay any attention to the stranger as he wanders away.

Guess he decided that wasn’t his job.

Tall, dark, and lanky looks like he’s been through the ringer. Skin pallor and clammy, hair pulled into a bird’s nest of a bun on the back of his head with the top and bangs matted flat with what you assume is sweat, hands fussing in front of him like if he doesn’t move as many muscles as possible at once he’ll explode. There are deep purple bags under his wide eyes as he approaches one of the other windows in the space, 30 feet away from where you’re sitting.

He looks over the frame like he’s trying to find a way out, coming back with nothing before heading to the next window, closer to you. His appearance and behavior make you think of a wet rat trying to claw its way up the side of a bathtub – unable to grip onto anything and getting sent back down into the water again every time he tries to climb.

Hoping not to catch his attention, you direct your gaze down, focusing back on your under salted eggs and grape jam. Between the lack of seasoning and the juice of the week being some kind of weird pineapple mix, you’re left wanting even more so than usual over your bare bones breakfast.

Despite your half assed attempt to be invisible, the single chair across from you at your table is pulled out, flipped around, and then settled into by the stranger. In your shock, you look up at him before you can second guess the reaction.

“I saw you, I remember,” his voice is deeper than you thought, raspy at the edges with exhaustion and hardship. His gaze flicks rapidly from the table, your food, your face, the rest of the room, his hands. Everywhere at once it seems. “The day they brought me in.”

“Yup,” you confirm with an awkward nod of acknowledgement before looking back at your food.

Please leave, please leave, please leave.

“I’m Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

Looking back up at him, he has a bit more life in his face. Something that looks a little bit like hope.

“Okay.”

His face falls.

“You… Doesn’t ring any bells? Eddie Munson, guitarist, Corroded Coffin, biggest rock-metal band of the 90s?” The longer he goes, his wet eyes widen, making him look like a pleading animal looking for food scraps. When you show absolutely no recognition for anything he’s saying, he brings his hands together, fingers moving to twist at rings that no longer sit there. When he doesn’t find them, his leg starts to bounce under the table and his palms start tapping on the top of the chair at his chest.

“If you’re looking for celebrity worship, I’m sure Melissa or Kathy would be happy to provide.” You inform him, hoping he will lose interest and go searching for them to give him the attention he seems to be looking for. You go back to spreading jam on your slightly burnt toast.

He doesn’t take the bait. “How, uh, how long have you been here?”

Taking a long inhale through your nose and out through your mouth, you set your plastic knife back down. “A month.”

His hisses out air through his teeth, eyes searching over the rest of the room, like he’s waiting for something bad to happen. “How long do people normally stay locked up in here?”

Ah.

“I dunno. A couple months? I’m not exactly some kind of authority here. You should go ask–”

“Has anyone ever broken out?”

Though you’re not sure why you’re surprised, you still struggle with the question. He makes eye contact with you again and the look in his eye is different now. Smaller.

He’s scared.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

He scoffs, using his hand at his chin to crack his neck in either direction, looking unsatisfied with your answer. “Come on, like nobody has ever tried to get out? You’ve never tried?”

A weight presses down on your chest. “No, I haven’t.”

“Yeah right, I’m sure that there’s some–”

“Mr. Munson!”

An orderly stalks toward the table, looking crabby and annoyed this early in the day. Eddie looks about ready to bolt after their bark but somehow remains seated until they arrive. “I’m sure Howard didn’t inform you, but first thing in the morning you’re supposed to come up to the nurse window to receive your medication.” They present their arm back to where the now empty med line stands, everyone else settled into seats with their breakfasts. “After you’ve taken your medication, you can grab some breakfast and…” They make eye contact with you that you’re quick to avoid. “Converse with whoever you want.”

“See, your mistake was that I don’t need any medication, so I don’t need to wait in line.” His voice is slowly raising in volume, drawing more and more attention as he goes. “In fact, I’m not even supposed to be here!”

“Mr. Munson, please lower your voice, you’ll disturb the other residents.”

“Fuck the other residents,” he slams his palms down on your table, almost knocking off your plastic cup of juice when it rocks and you jolt back from the show of aggression. All eyes in the room are on him now, and by extension, you. Other residents, other orderlies, nurses, the kitchen staff.

Too many eyes.

While the attention makes you want to crawl into a hole and die, it seems to please Eddie. He pushes up off of his chair and makes a show of arguing with the annoyed orderly all the way over to the nurse’s station. All eyes in the room follow him and his suddenly animated features, looking like he has gained 10x more energy than when he walked in. You use the distraction to your advantage.

By the time Eddie has had medication forced down his throat, a plate of shitty eggs deposited in his hands, and he turns around to look at your table again, you’re nowhere to be found.

He finds you again in the garden before group therapy.

You’re tucked away in a painted white, wrought iron chair that’s bolted to the ground next to a tall shrub. It’s still in the gated off outdoor area, but mostly hidden from view. The orderlies know to find you there if they need you because that’s where you always are – sitting on that single chair in the sunshine with a paperback book on your lap. Today it’s Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch.

When a body blocks the sun over your book, your first assumption is that it’s an orderly coming to tell you it’s time to head to Therapy House. But it seems too early for that, and you’re normally a pretty good judge of time (at least, in here), so when an unfamiliar voice clears its throat in front of you, you huff a breath before you raise your head to acknowledge him.

“Is that seat taken?” He asks with a grin, motioning to the empty table bolted to the ground beside your chair. It’s obviously a rhetorical question – maybe to get you to smile or laugh. You do neither and give him a flat look.

“Actually, I’m saving it for someone.”

This seems to delight him even more, eyebrows raising and eyes getting some more life in them as he takes a seat on the table anyway. “Well I’ll keep it nice and warm for them until they show up.” He pulls his facility-issued navy sweatpants covered legs up to cross under him, effectively draping his knee over your arm.

Accepting your fate to not get rid of him, you open your book again to where you left off.

“Best not to speculate, really,” said Aziraphale. “You can’t second-guess ineffability, I always say. There’s Right, and there’s Wrong. If you do Wrong when you’re told to do Right, you deserve to be punished.”

“I checked the perimeter of the garden,” his voice is lowered, as if someone would overhear him, “looking for weak spots.”

You hum an acknowledgement, keeping your eyes on your book as you reply in a sarcastic monotone, “Because that’s definitely not suspicious.”

He waves you off out of the corner of your eye, beginning a light tap of his hands against his knees. Even with the medication. He either needs a higher dose or he’s hyperactive at baseline. “They probably just thought I was giving myself a little tour or something, I don’t know. I don’t really care if it’s suspicious, actually. All I know is there’s like… Nothing. At all.”

“Shocker.”

Continuing to ignore your lackluster responses, a bopping of his head joins the beat of his palms. You attempt to reread the same paragraph over and over to try and comprehend it through his talking and fidgeting, failing time after time. “Not even like a locked gate or anything. And the fence itself is too high to get over with no footholds, unless you got something to stand on to grab the top and pull yourself over. Yeah…”

“Oh!” The sudden volume of his voice makes you jerk away from him again, not expecting the sharp change. “What about your chair, is it loose?” One long fingered hand grips the backrest between your shoulder blades and the other the chair arm closest to him, attempting to give it a shake. “Maybe we could get the bolts out and use it to climb the fence.” He only succeeds in making an annoying rattling sound and jostling you back and forth.

“Fuck, Eddie, will you –” Using the paper cover of your book, you smack at his forearm a few times, causing him to quickly withdraw and hold his hands up in front of his chest like he’s worried your attack will continue. “Fucking, stop it.”

“Geez, sorry,” he mutters, looking slightly sheepish but still not exactly apologetic. “What’s your name, by the way? I forgot to ask.”

“Seems a little too late to ask now, don’t you think?” You turn the page of your book to make it look like you’re making progress despite the fact that you haven’t been able to finish a sentence since Eddie sat down beside you. Anything to help you look less interested in his attempted escape and, therefore, him.

An amused snort leaves his nose, tapping hands turning to a hold on his knees to let him lean back without falling off the table. “Well you are just a ray of sunshine,” he snarks back, looking more amused than annoyed. “Anyone ever told you that before?”

Finally lifting your head to give him a placating and overly artificial smile, you meet his eyes to make sure he can see your insincerity when you say, “Only every day.”

And while he opens his mouth to probably throw back another sarcastic retort, he’s interrupted by the “relaxing” (read: fucking annoying) gong by the Therapy House going off, signaling it’s time to head inside. You snap your book shut and push off your chair without a word to join the rest of the group outside in the unenthusiastic shuffle toward the birch wood doors. Another set of slip-on shoes, a matching pair to yours, sidles up beside where your own drag through the dirt path.

“So what happens now?” He asks, leaning a little bit closer to you as he speaks again, like the two of you are conspiring together on something. Based on your interactions so far, maybe he thinks you are.

“Therapy,” is your sharp reply. And, as if finally understanding he probably isn’t going to get much more information, he shuts up and just walks beside you toward the two story building off of the main facility.

All 12 of you wander through the doors in your similar outfits – sweatpants, t-shirts, and hoodies in shades of blue, grey, and black. Crossing from dirt and stone pathways onto the pristine wood floors of the Therapy House that’s awash with sunlight. As many windows as possible in all directions and a huge circular skylight above leaves the whole room bright and airy.

There are 13 metal folding chairs set up in a circle beneath the skylight, 1 more than yesterday, and the one directly across from the door is already occupied.

Mrs. Penelope Windsor is the head of therapy at the Betty Ford Center for Rehabilitation and wears that title with the utmost pride. She’s put together, ambitious, intelligent, and damn good at her job. Not to mention attractive, with her long legs crossed under her black pencil skirt, her crimson red button up blouse showing just enough collarbone to still be ‘professional’, and the long brunette braid draped over her shoulder. Her black heels are patent leather and perfectly shiny along with the matching briefcase sitting beside her chair. She stands out sharply from the white walls and birch wood floors of the Therapy House – but she commands your attention that way. A focal point in a room of white and tan and beige nothingness.

And the moment you walk through the doors with Eddie beside you, you feel her hazel eyes on you like a fucking hawk.

You avoid making eye contact, as per usual, and settle into the seat you’ve been using since the first day you came here. To your displeasure, Eddie immediately grabs the seat to your right, flipping it around to sit backwards in it, folding his arms over the back with a certain lazy confidence.

Tony, who normally sits there, hovers uncomfortably for a moment behind before scuttling over to the only remaining chair between Mrs. Windsor and Melissa.

As soon as he’s seated, heavy and tense silence settles over the room while the rest of you wait for Penelope to greet the group. You could hear a pin drop in the room in these moments, everyone shifting uncomfortably in the quiet as she takes a few moments to look over the group before her.

Almost like she enjoys making us all squirm under her authority.

Her sharp eyes settle on Eddie, her face as passive as always. He does very little to react to her stare but takes it as a sort of challenge – staring right back where most would shy away. The corner of her mouth lifts almost imperceptibly, like she appreciates the challenge.

The silent standoff is broken as Thomas’ wooden cane clatters to the floor beside his chair from where it had been leaning. He immediately turns bright red from the collar of his black t-shirt all the way to the tips of his ears. “Shit – Wait, oh, shoot, sorry!” Scooping it up in shaky hands, he is quick to tuck it between his knees, white knuckle fisting the handle in his embarrassment.

“That’s quite alright, Thomas,” is Penelope’s serene reply, a gentle smile directed his way before she addresses the group. “Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome back to our group session for today.”

No one says a word as she takes another uncomfortable moment to scan the group before doubling back to land on Eddie. “I see we have a new member of our group today. My name is Mrs. Windsor and I’m the head therapist here at the Betty Ford Center, but you’re more than welcome to call me Penelope. Could you introduce yourself for us, please?”

“Eddie Munson, guitarist, Corroded Coffin.” He answers cooly, and you watch his eyes do a quick scan to see if anyone shows any recognition. When there are a few reactions, his smile grows into one of satisfaction before he returns his gaze to Penelope. “Am I supposed to say what they locked me up for now or somethin’?” It comes out in a teasing lit, like he is trying to make a joke of it all.

No one laughs.

She takes it in stride. “You’re more than welcome to share what you’re struggling with, if you’d like.”

His shoulders rise slightly, like a cat going on the defensive. “Okay, first of all, I’m not struggling with anything. I’m not even supposed to be here. I keep telling them if they just let me call my manager we could get this whole thing cleared up so I can get the fuck out of here and back to my life.”

“Your manager…” She leans over, plucking a file from her briefcase and unfolding it on her lap. “Mr. Scott?” She looks up through her eyelashes for confirmation.

He settles again, looking slightly relieved. “Yeah, Jonathan Scott, Razor & Tie.”

“Mhmm…” She looks back at the file, flipping a page up in what looks to be a show. Like she already knows what she’s supposedly ‘looking’ for. “It says here Mr. Scott is the person who applied for your stay in our center and is the sign off as your legal guardian while you’re completing your treatment.” She lightly closes the file, sitting up straight again to look at him. “Did you know that Eddie?”

“No,” he answers, voice suddenly unsure, eyebrows drawing together on his forehead and shoulders falling. “No, I didn’t.”

“Well then,” her smile is nothing but satisfied when she slips the papers back into her briefcase. “It seems there’s nothing to be cleared up here after all. And I’m sure we’re all very excited to get to know you over the next few weeks, Eddie.”

Challenge won.

When he doesn’t respond, she moves on. “Now, Kathy, it looks like your nails are doing better…”

You tune out the rest of her interaction, focusing on the man beside you. He has his head slightly hung down, eyes on his hands as he holds one wide and uses the opposite thumb to rub along his palm. There’s an air about him – closer to one you saw this morning. Confused. Lost. Scared.

You almost feel sorry for the guy.

Two hours later, you’re in one of the ‘office lofts’ of Therapy House, a 5x5 closed room with a loveseat for you and an armchair for your therapist. After group is over, there are rotations of 1 on 1 therapy with one of the various counselors on staff, herding each of you into tiny rooms for an hour at a time. At the beginning of your stay, you had somehow lucked out to being assigned to Queen Penelope herself.

She sits across from you with her holier-than-thou attitude and a spiral notebook clutched in her well-manicured hands – filled with notes about you that you’re not supposed to see. In the sunken down cushions of the loveseat, you end up sitting below her eyeline even if you tried to sit up straight. So you don’t try – tucking your legs under you and crossing your arms under your chest.

As per usual, she starts the session with a few moments of horrifying silence. Almost as a dare to get you to talk first just to break it.

You never have.

“So, how are you feeling today?”

“Fine. Same as always.”

She clicks her pen, like she’s already prepared to start taking notes off that one sentence. “Indeed. Everyday is always ‘fine’, isn’t it?”

Eddie must have made you more snippy than usual, because you’re already ready to turn on her. “What point are you trying to make, exactly?”

“Everyday, every time anyone asks, the answer is always ‘fine.’ Fine is a noncommittal answer that means nothing.” She leans back in her chair, cool and collected as always. “Fine is the answer you give when you’re avoiding the answer.”

It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes at her. “Okay, what is my answer supposed to be then?”

“The truth, preferably.”

Wow, thanks, that’s helpful.

When you don’t respond with a new answer, she moves on. “Are you still having nightmares? Flashbacks?”

A shiver crawls up your spine, creeping toward the cold sweat that starts to build at the nape of your neck on instinct. “Sometimes.”

Liar.

“How often, would you say? For the nightmares?”

Clammy hands press into the fabric of your grey sweatpants. “Maybe once a week.”

Liar.

She scribbles something down in her notepad. “And the flashbacks?”

A vision of cold, blue tipped fingers reaching out toward you from the dark comes to the forefront of your mind before you blink it away. “Less than that, I think.”

Liar!

“And are they all still about her?”

The cold from those blue tipped fingers permeates through your body, settling into your bones in a chill that never seems to leave you anymore. “Not all of them.”

LIAR. LIAR. LIAR. LI–

“Actually, can we talk about something else?” Your request comes out quicker than you’d like, giving a show of desperation as you adjust in your seat. “Please,” you add as an afterthought.

Her gaze is sharp as ever and calculated in her perusal of you for another few moments, but she concedes. “Alright. What would you like to talk about then?”

When you flounder for an answer, mouth opening and shutting uselessly, she offers an alternative of her own. “I saw you walk in with the new guy today. Eddie, right? Did you talk to him at all?”

You let out a huff, eyes directing down to where your wandering fingers have landed on a piece of loose thread on your pants. “More like sat there while he talked at me.”

“He didn’t give you a chance to talk or you never took it?”

“I don’t exactly have anything I want to talk to him about,” is your cold response, once again looking up to make eye contact with her.

“You know, it wouldn’t actually hurt to try to connect with someone again. Maybe open up to a new friend?”

This time you’re not able to withhold your eye roll. “Junkie rockstar is not exactly the kind of friend I’m looking to make.”

“That’s a bit of a hurtful representation, don’t you think?” She is writing another note as she speaks, eyes looking between you and her page. “How would you feel if someone didn’t want to interact with you because you’re a ‘junkie’?”

Your gaze flicks back down to the thread between your fingers as you mumble, “They wouldn’t exactly be wrong.”

“Do you think you’re a bad person because of your drug use?”

I think I’m a bad person for a lot of reasons.

“It doesn’t exactly give you a glowing perception in the eyes of the public,” you answer defensively.

“That may be true. So you did something that was frowned upon by the general public, making it ‘bad’ or ‘wrong’.” She adds in the air quotes, even though her tone was enough to warrant the assumption that she was being facetious. “What about all of the good things you’ve done? Is there some kind of threshold for the amount of ‘bad’ things a person needs to have done in comparison to the good ones to brand them as a ‘bad’ person?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

Her eyes flit over to the book beside you, resting on the cushion with the cover Good Omens facing up, before returning to you. “I think, personally, that it’s possible to have done bad things without it making you a bad person. It doesn’t make you a good person either, mind you. Because there’s also no such thing as a person who is wholly good either.” She folds her hands over her lap like she always does when she thinks she’s about to say something really profound.

“Good and bad are just malleable descriptions we give to things. People are not simply good or simply bad. People are just… People. Where good, bad, and everything in between coexist.”

Then why do I feel like this?

Eddie plops down in front of you at breakfast looking slightly less like a wet rat than he has so far.

"Good morning, sunshine." And he grins, way too fucking chipper for being 2 weeks into detoxing.

"Don't call me that."

"Whatever you say, sunshine," he repeats with the same grin, like he's glad you don't like it. "I have a plan for us to get out of here."

Get out? A plan? Us? You don't even know where to start with that. "Ah. No wonder you look like it's Christmas morning."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment." With a noncommittal 'mmfh', you go back to pushing around your over salted scrambled eggs. "Aren't you going to ask what my plan is?"

"No."

"Well, since you asked," he ignores you and leans over the table, once again lowering his voice to a soft murmur. "One of the night nurses is a fan of my band."

He pauses there, like he's looking for some kind of response. You offer up a completely lackluster, "Congrats."

"Sooo, maybe I can butter her up. Promise her VIP tickets or backstage passes or something. Bribe her to get us out."

Stabbing into a chunk of egg hard enough to almost pierce through the styrofoam beneath, you mumble, "Good luck with that."

He points his fork at you, eyes narrowing in a glare. "You don't think it will work."

"I don't care if it works," you sigh as you bring a hand up to rub at the sudden tension in your temple. "What do you think is gonna happen when you get out, huh? They're just gonna say 'Well, he got out of rehab, guess that's it then!' Your manager is just gonna have you delivered right back here."

"Then I get a new manager." Another flat look is leveled in his direction. "Seriously, I can figure it out once I get out of here. And if you're gonna be this negative about it, then maybe I won't take you with me," he says it like a threat, looking smug as he sips at his not-quite-pineapple juice.

"Good."

His plastic cup hits the table fast enough that a bit sloshes out and onto the vinyl cover. "What do you mean 'good'? You're telling me you don't want to get out of here?"

It's like he's finally hearing you for the first time. "Yes, that is what I'm telling you."

"As if." He scoffs, shoving a chunk of scramble egg in his mouth before continuing to talk through chewing it. "Nobody wants to be in here getting pumped full of happy meds and talking about our feelings with the Ice Queen."

A part of you actually wants to be amused at the term Ice Queen, but you're quick to beat it down. "Yeah, well, maybe I do."

He takes a big bite out of his stiff toast next, crumbs flying with the force of it. "I think," he pauses to swallow the bite before pointing the toast at you this time. "That you have Stockholm Syndrome. And have accepted defeat in your captivity."

"Whatever you say, Munson."

You should've known better than to assume it would end there.

After breakfast, all of you scatter throughout the main hall to do various things to fill your time. As usual, you sit down on a chair by the window so you can continue your book. You're quickly approaching the climax of the narrative, when the four horsemen begin their ride toward the end of the world.

Eddie has set up shop at a table nearby, bent over the top that's scattered with papers that are all covered in drawings of various mythical creatures. He's currently scratching away at a sketch of a three headed Hydra, mouths roaring fire toward the sky.

You'd never tell him this of course, but you have to admit that they are pretty good.

It's 30 minutes of blissful silence with plenty of progress made in your book until he starts talking again.

"Do you actually not want to get out of here?"

You exhale through your nose sharply, annoyed that you're being forced to continue this conversation. Closing your book with your thumb tucked in to save your page, you turn your upper body toward him. "Is that really so hard to believe?"

"Yeah, actually, it is. What are you even in here for anyway? Like what 'problem' do they think you have?"

"None of your fucking business," is your extremely grumpy reply, settling back into your chair and opening your book again in hopes he'll drop it.

"Well, whatever it is, it's not worth sitting in this glorified prison for months on end, I can tell you that much."

Something about the way he's talking really starts to grate on your nerves, making you want to fight more than you want to ignore him. "I'm sorry, would you rather be in actual prison?"

This makes his face drop, a muscle in his jaw rolling with tension. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that coke and meth are illegal, in case you forgot. And can actually get you arrested." Your tone is condescending, tinged with venom. "So maybe you should be grateful to be in this 'glorified prison' instead of a real one."

"Grateful?" He lets out a fake laugh, looking at you in disbelief. "Yeah, let me just try to be grateful to have my every move watched and my entire day planned for me like I'm in a fucking daycare."

An orderly walks in through the double doors to the garden, propping them open in an invitation to move outside for the hour. You're quick to rise, tucking your bookmark into your spot and muttering a dismissive, "Whatever," as you pass.

You're barely off the stone path and into the grass towards your seat when he comes barrelling out after you.

"Hey, I'm not done."

"Listen," you continue forward, talking over your shoulder at him as he marches after you, "I get you're still in denial and everything. But it's not my job to make you accept that you're here for a reason. So why don't you just leave me alone."

A hand grips your shoulder, forcing you to turn toward him. The sun is behind his head from this angle, leaving him silhouetted in light and you standing in his shadow in the grass.

"And what exactly do you think the reason I'm here is?"

"I don't know," you push his hand off your shoulder, tucking your book in against your stomach. "Why don't you ask yourself that question?"

"I'm here against my will because a fucking corporate prick thinks I need 'fixing'," his voice comes out as a hiss through his clenched teeth. His hands tighten into fists at his sides. "Everybody thinks we need to be 'fixed'."

"Maybe we fucking do, Eddie! Did you ever consider that?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you see your argument getting some attention from other patients and an orderly standing watch, but you're too caught up in your anger to care.

You jolt in surprise when Eddie's hands grip your shoulders, forcing your attention on him. "Are you even fucking listening to yourself?!"

"Eddie, let go of me."

His hands only tighten, his wide eyes going wild. "They fucking infected you with their bullshit doctrine of what society thinks is right and wrong, but it's not true."

You try to pull away from him but his grip just turns bruising in response, fingertips digging into your skin painfully. Fear takes hold, tears starting to push at the back of your eyes as you plead, "Please, Eddie, you're hurting me–"

"They're hurting you!" He's borderline yelling in your face now, emphasizing his next point by shaking you where you stand. "Don't you fucking get it? They're the ones hurting you by making you think there's something wrong with you!"

An orderly appears beside him and grips his shoulder, ordering a tense, "Let her go."

This seems to shock him as his hands release you mid-shake, sending you backwards onto your ass. You make impact with a yelp, the tailbone pain enough to force the tears that were threats before to start to spill down your cheeks. You're sure that if your hands weren't pressed to the ground behind you, they'd be trembling.

Heels click along stones on the approach, heated and quick. "What the hell is going on here?" Penelope Windsor asks sharply, barely faltering as her heels meet grass and dirt.

You look up at Eddie with tears in your eyes, shocked and terrified.

He looks down, as pale as a ghost, the orderly's hand still on his shoulder as he stares at his own like they don't belong to him.

"Are you alright?" Penelope asks when she kneels to the ground beside you, fancy slacks of her pantsuit in the dirt. A gentle hand hovers over your shoulders, concern evident in the way she looks you over.

Swallowing hard around the lump in your throat, you break away from your stare at Eddie to glance at her and then the ground. "I'm fine."

"I…" Eddie's voice sounds small, scared. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened. I didn't mean to–"

"Come on." Penelope is calm as she interrupts him, more caring and gentle than you've ever heard her. "Let's go get you cleaned up."

You manage a nod before you allow her to help you to your feet and put a protective arm around your back as she leads you over toward the Therapy House.

Eddie stands there with the orderly, hands shaking and tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he watches you go. Hoping you'll look back. That you'll tell him it's okay, that you'll forgive him. Tell him that you will be okay.

You don't look back.

Once you've disappeared behind those birch doors, the orderly finally lets him go. Walks back over to the main hall without another word – leaving Eddie alone to his panic and shame while he stares at your copy of Good Omens from where it sits half open and abandoned in the grass.

Your chair is empty in group that day.

thanks for reading!! please reblog if you liked it and let me know what you think, feedback means everything!! read part 2 here

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #rockstar!eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #myos ideas #myo4munson

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synergysobrietysolutions · 4 months

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Drug Rehabilitation

Drug Rehab West Palm Beach

Confronting the battle with addiction is no small feat. Finding an excellent drug rehab in West Palm Beach, where the shadow of substance abuse looms large, can feel particularly daunting. We understand this struggle’s profound impact on individuals and families because we’ve seen it up close—its challenges and heartbreaks. Through thorough research and compassion, we’ve crafted a guide that shines a light on effective drug and alcohol rehab options right here at home for those who are ready to reclaim their lives from addiction’s hold. Let us offer you hope; your transformation story awaits. Take that first courageous step towards healing with us by your side. Contact Synergy Sobriety Solutions today for addiction treatment, and we will assist you in recovery!

Key Takeaways

Synergy Sobriety Solutions in West Palm Beach offers diverse drug rehab programs, including medically assisted detox, outpatient services, behavioral therapy, and relapse prevention planning to support individuals through recovery. If inpatient treatment is needed, we work with many well-established partners.

Barriers to treatment, such as stigma, financial challenges, and co-occurring mental health conditions, are acknowledged and addressed by providing clear information about therapies and creating personalized care plans at the local centers.

Synergy Sobriety Solutions contributes significantly to recovery efforts with a holistic approach focusing on physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being.

Understanding Drug Rehabilitation

Drug rehabilitation involves a variety of treatment programs and options to address severe substance use disorder and abuse issues, including medically assisted detox, behavioral therapy, and intensive outpatient programs. There are often barriers to seeking treatment for addiction, such as stigma and lack of access to affordable care.

Types of Rehabilitation Programs

We understand that taking the first step toward recovery can be daunting. Here at Synergy Sobriety Solutions in West Palm Beach, we provide a variety of rehabilitation programs tailored to help individuals on their journey to sobriety.

Medically Assisted Detox: This program focuses on safely managing withdrawal symptoms under medical supervision, ensuring comfort, and reducing cravings.

Partial Hospitalization Program (PHP): This option offers structured treatment services during the day while patients return home or stay in a sober living environment at night.

Intensive Outpatient Program (IOP): Participants engage in addiction treatment and mental health services while maintaining their normal daily activities.

Outpatient Rehab: Designed for those with less severe addictions, outpatient services involve attending scheduled treatment sessions without residential accommodations.

Behavioral Therapy: We incorporate various forms, such as cognitive-behavioral therapy and motivational interviewing, to address patterns underlying substance use disorders.

Family Therapy: Our approach involves the entire family system in recovery to foster healing and support networks for our patients.

Group Therapy Sessions: Recovering addicts find strength and understanding through shared experiences facilitated by a licensed therapist in a group setting.

Individual Therapy: Personal recovery plans include one-on-one sessions focusing on individual needs, triggers, and coping strategies for long-term recovery.

Relapse Prevention Planning: Each patient receives personalized strategies designed to help them avoid relapse as they navigate early recovery and beyond.

Aftercare Services: Continual support is critical; thus, we offer ongoing counseling and resources to assist individuals in maintaining a life free from substance addiction.

Treatment Options

As we explore treatment options in West Palm Beach, it’s vital to recognize the diversity of programs available. Synergy Sobriety Solutions offers various options to cater to individual needs and ensure sustainable recovery. Here are some of the vital treatment opportunities you can expect:

Detoxification and Medical Stabilization: This first critical step involves safely removing toxins from the body with medical supervision and managing withdrawal symptoms effectively.

Individual and Group Therapy: Both formats provide crucial support, with one-on-one sessions focusing on personal issues and group settings fostering a sense of community among those in recovery.

Evidence-Based Therapies: These include cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) and other modalities supported by research, which are designed to help modify destructive thinking patterns and behaviors.

Dual Diagnosis Care for Co-Occurring Disorders: When mental health conditions accompany substance abuse, specialized treatments address both simultaneously for a holistic approach.

Long-Term Recovery Planning: Creating a comprehensive plan encourages sustained sobriety after completing a program, integrating strategies for dealing with potential triggers in daily life.

Alcohol Detox and Rehab Programs: Tailored specifically for alcohol addiction, these involve specialized protocols for detox followed by rehab that addresses the root causes of addiction.

Outpatient Services: Offering flexibility, outpatient programs allow individuals to maintain their daily activities while receiving regular treatment sessions.

Pain Management Techniques: For those whose addiction is linked to chronic pain, alternative pain management strategies can be an integral part of treatment plans.

Barriers to Treatment

Many people in West Palm Beach who need help with drug and alcohol addiction face real obstacles to getting treatment. The stigma surrounding substance abuse can make individuals hesitant to seek the support they desperately require, fearing judgment from their community or even their loved ones. Financial challenges often stand in the way, too; not everyone has insurance or can afford out-of-pocket expenses for a rehab or treatment center. You may also look into using the Affordable Care Act if you qualify. Also, untreated co-occurring mental health disorders may complicate an individual’s ability to reach out and maintain the commitment necessary for successful recovery.

At Synergy Sobriety Solutions, we understand these barriers and work tirelessly to address them head-on. Confusion about where to find appropriate care shouldn’t be another hurdle, so we ensure information about our evidence-based therapies and supportive environment is accessible and straightforward. Our team is dedicated to guiding those in South Florida through these challenges toward long-term recovery, focusing on creating a personalized experience that meets each person’s unique needs. Let’s move past these hurdles together because overcoming addiction positively affects every aspect of life.

The Role of Synergy Sobriety Solutions Rehabilitation Centers

With a national impact on substance abuse treatment, their success stories speak volumes about the effectiveness of their programs. Suppose you or someone you know is a recovering addict or is struggling with addiction. In that case, it’s worth exploring how Synergy Sobriety Solutions can help on the journey to recovery from substance abuse issues.

Holistic Approach to Recovery

At Synergy Sobriety Solutions, we approach recovery holistically, addressing the physical, mental, and emotional aspects of addiction. Our programs incorporate evidence-based therapies to treat co-occurring disorders and provide complete detoxification and medical stabilization services. We believe in the importance of long-term recovery and offer affordable care options for those seeking an addiction treatment center here in West Palm Beach. Our treatment team is committed to offering the most advanced research and personalized care to support individuals in their recovery process and journey toward healing. We understand that substance abuse can impact every aspect of life; that’s why our comprehensive approach focuses not only on overcoming addiction but also on improving overall well-being.

Success Stories

We have witnessed remarkable success stories from individuals who have undergone rehabilitation in West Palm Beach. These stories offer hope and inspiration to those seeking help for drug and alcohol addiction. There have been hundreds of incredible journeys and transformations.

A young individual struggled with severe substance abuse but found solace and support at Synergy, ultimately achieving long-term recovery through evidence-based therapies.

At Synergy Sobriety Solutions, a middle-aged individual with co-occurring disorders received comprehensive care, addressing both addiction and mental health challenges, leading to a fulfilling life free from substance dependence.

Synergy’s holistic approach helped a family member break free from the cycle of addiction, emphasizing the importance of personalized treatment plans tailored to address their specific needs.

An individual struggling with physical dependence found renewed purpose and strength at a rehab facility in West Palm Beach, highlighting the significance of ongoing support during the journey toward recovery.

The compassionate and effective care provided by a detox treatment center in West Palm Beach empowered an individual to reclaim control over their life, emphasizing the crucial role of professional guidance in overcoming substance abuse.

By embracing various options for addiction treatment in West Palm Beach, many individuals have successfully transitioned into lives characterized by sobriety, wellness, and fulfillment.

National Impact of Substance Abuse

Reflecting on the impact of substance abuse nationwide, it’s evident that communities across America face devastating addiction effects and consequences. With alarming statistics showing the prevalence of drug and alcohol addiction, many individuals and families grapple with the ripple effects. It is essential to recognize that substance abuse affects not only individual lives but also poses significant challenges for society as a whole. The widespread prevalence of substance abuse hampers communities’ ability to thrive and enjoy a safe environment. With co-occurring mental health disorders exacerbating these issues, it becomes increasingly important to address these challenges effectively.

How to Get Help and Support

If you or a loved one is struggling with drug addiction, Synergy Sobriety Solutions in West Palm Beach offers comprehensive treatment programs to support long-term recovery. Read on to learn more about the resources available and take the first step towards seeking help.

Contacting an Adult Rehabilitation Center

When seeking help for drug and alcohol addiction, contacting an adult rehabilitation center is a critical step in the recovery journey. Here’s how you can reach out to a treatment facility for support:

Reach out via Phone: You can contact the adult rehabilitation center directly by phone to inquire about their programs and services. Staff members are available to provide information and guidance on the next steps.

Send an Email: Many adult rehabilitation centers have email addresses where you can send inquiries or request more information about their treatment options. This allows you to gather detailed information at your own pace.

Visit in Person: A trip to the adult rehabilitation center lets you see the facilities firsthand and meet staff members. This can help you understand the environment and the level of care provided.

Online Chat Support: Some centers offer online chat support through their website, allowing you to ask questions and seek assistance in real time, providing immediate answers to your queries.

Other Ways to Support the Cause Addiction Treatment Centers

You can help support the cause of drug and alcohol treatment in West Palm Beach through various avenues. Here are some ways to make a difference:

Volunteer at local rehabilitation centers to support and assist those undergoing treatment.

Advocate for increased access to addiction recovery resources and facilities in the West Palm Beach area by contacting local authorities and organizations.

Organize fundraising events or campaigns to raise awareness and funds for addiction treatment centers in West Palm Beach.

Support individuals in recovery by offering mentorship, guidance, and encouragement as they navigate their journey toward sobriety.

Educate your community about the importance of mental health care and substance abuse treatment, promoting understanding and empathy for those struggling with addiction.

Collaborate with local businesses to create employment opportunities for individuals in recovery, helping them rebuild their lives after treatment.

Participate in community clean-up efforts to improve the surroundings and create a positive environment for those in recovery.

Support initiatives that aim to reduce the stigma surrounding addiction and promote a more compassionate approach towards individuals seeking help.

Personal or Loved One’s Journey through Rehabilitation

Embarking on the journey through rehabilitation can be both challenging and rewarding. It involves a commitment to change, perseverance, and support from loved ones. Navigating through detox and therapy requires strength and determination, but it is essential for long-term addiction recovery, too. Substance abuse affects not only the mental health treatment of the individual but also their family and friends. Understanding that seeking help is crucial for healing helps overcome stigma and find hope in the available treatment options. Supporting a loved one throughout their rehabilitation journey involves patience, empathy, and encouragement. It’s important to stay informed about the different addiction treatment programs and detox services available to West Palm Beach residents and how best to assist them in accessing these resources effectively.

Conclusion

Seeking help for drug and alcohol addiction in West Palm Beach is essential. Individuals can access the support they need to make positive life changes with various options available. The Synergy Sobriety Solutions rehab facilities in Palm Beach and New Jersey offer comprehensive services and a holistic approach to recovery. It’s important to seek assistance and take proactive steps towards long-term recovery. If you or someone you know struggles with an addiction, help is available at Synergy Sobriety Solutions in Palm Beach, Florida. We offer professional drug and alcohol treatment services tailored to your needs. Call us at 561-562-9715 or Contact us today for more information on how we can assist you toward recovery!

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