March 16, 2011 

"Lilly." Someone shook me from my daze. I look up. 

"Sorry Danny." I smile. 

"You good?" He asks. 

"Yes. Sorry I was just...out of it." I laugh casually. In two days, Dougie would be getting out of the Priory and I was scared. Plus, just when I thought my sleeping situation couldn't get worse, it did. 

The people at the Priory told all of us that for the first month Dougie is out, for the best chance of him succeeding, he shouldn't live alone. He planned to move back in with Tom and Gi afterward. Right now, Tom, Gi, Danny and I were cleaning out his house of all things related to his addiction and depression so that when it gets time for him to move back it'll be all ready for him. 

We found tons of empty bottles of different kinds of alcohol all over the house. Some were hidden, and some were in plain sight, but they were everywhere. 

Danny and Gi worked downstairs while Tom and I were searching through Dougie's room holding big black bin bags already with a few bottles in the bottom. 

"Lilly...you okay?" Tom asks, looking around the bedside table. 

"Yeah." I lie. "I'm okay." I open the bureau and shuffle around through the pairs of socks, pulling out a few miniatures. 

"You're not lying, right?" Tom says skeptically.

"No. Honest." I reply. "How are you doing?" I change the subject. 

"Alright." He says. I nod. 

"How's everything going with the medicine and stuff?" I ask. 

"Pretty okay. I'm still a bit stressed out about Dougie." Tom says. 

"Yeah me too." I say. "I know it's hard after something so traumatic happens-" 

"No, I mean," Tom sighs. "Dougie doesn't want to live at Gi and mine after he gets out." 

"What? Why?" Tom shrugs. 

"He says last time he lived with us, after Australia, he was in such a bad state, he doesn't want to be reminded of it. But I want him to do well when he gets out, just like he's doing now. And the people at the Priory don't want him to live alone."

"I could offer him to stay at mine." I say quickly. Having Dougie under my supervision, at least for a little while, would certainly calm my nerves. Tom makes a confused face. 

"Isn't that weird? He's your ex-boyfriend." He says. I shrug. 

"He's just...Dougie."

****************************

We're all back together cleaning out the living room. There are bottle everywhere, and also other things, but I let Tom take care of that. 

"Lilly, could you get some more bin bags from the garage?" Danny asks. 

"Yup." I respond, putting down the one I was holding and walking through the house towards the garage on the other side. 

When I step in I stop immediately. 

Right in front of me is Dougie's car. The Audi Q7.

But to me, it isn't just a car. I know deep down that this car didn't try and end Dougie's life. It couldn't have. Dougie tried to end his own life. But I didn't want to believe that, so I blamed everything else I could. First I blamed Harry, then I blamed myself...

Now I blame this car. 

It's almost like it had eyes that stared back at me, with it's stupid headlights and it's stupid exhaust pipe. I let out a breath and walked past it slowly to the other side of the garage where the bin bags were. 

But just next to them, sat a small toolbox, and instead of grabbing a bin bag, I opened it. 

Without any hesitation (sadly), I took out the hammer and threw it through the windshield of the car. It shattered instantly. 

And then I realized what I just did. 

I take a step back and let out a gasp, like I had just walked in here and found it like this. 

Just then, Tom, Gi and Danny run up to the door where the house and the garage meet. I look over at them. 

"What happened?" Danny exclaims. 

"I...smashed it." I say timidly. 

"You what?" Gi asks, confused.

"Lilly, why would you do that?" Tom exclaims. 

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." I start to panic. I just wrecked Dougie's car. That's, like, illegal! 

"This is a brand new model..."Danny states. "Do you know how much money it will be to fix this?" 

"I'm sorry." I repeat, starting to worry. "I'm sorry. I was upset. All I could think about was how he almost died in this car and..." I turn to Tom. "Please don't send me to prison. My ass will get sold off for a carton of cigarettes." 

"Woah, calm down. No one is sending anyone to prison." Gi says. "I'm sure...if we all chip in..." She starts. 

But I couldn't let them pay to fix the mess that I just made. Sure, Danny and Tom were way more wealthy than me, but still. They didn't do this, I did, and now I would have to pay the price. 

Although, with what money, I wasn't sure. 

My hand comes up towards my neck and I nervously play with the silver necklace I wear I everyday that Nan left in the- 

Jackpot. 

"No." I say. "No I can fix this." 

"Lilly don't be daft." Tom says. "This is gonna be a ton of money, plus you'll have to call it in privately since you won't be able to drive this anywhere with glass all over the driver's seat." 

"Tom, I'm fine." I say. 

"You're trying to tell me you have enough money to fix this car?" He asks. 

"Yes." 

****************************

"Lillian?" The doctor asks as she walks in the room. I can't remember the last time I went to the doctor. Well, actually, I can. It was when Tom got food poisoning after coming back from Uganda, but I meant going to the doctor for myself. 

"Um, yes." I say. 

"I'm Doctor Michaels I'll be taking care of you." She smiles, sticker her hand out. I shake it, smiling warily. "Says here you can't sleep?" I nod. "How long has this been going on?" 

"About a month." I say. 

"Have you tried any over the counter medications for this?" She asks. 

"Just about all of them." I laugh. "Not at the same time." I clarify quickly. She laughs. 

"I figured." She writes something down on her clipboard. "Have you been through any stressful situations lately?" 

"You could say that." I nod, looking away. 

"Headaches? Nightmares? Fatigue?" She asks, still writing on the clipboard. 

"All of the above." I raise my brows. She nods. 

"Any history of mental health issues? Depression, anxiety, thoughts of self harm or su-"

"No." I answer quickly, stopping her. 

"How many hours of sleep would you say you get a week?" I shrug. 

"Five to ten." She grimaces. 

"Yikes." She says. "Have you experienced any fainting spells, dizziness or hallucinations such as seeing people or hearing voices?"  

"If I tell you the truth are you going to send me to a mental hospital?" I ask. Not that I disrespected the work of mental hospitals. Clearly they had helped Dougie, but I just didn't have time for that. 

"No." She smiles a bit, though I don't know why. 

"Sometimes I hear things. But nothing crazy. Just like...I think my friends are saying my name and they aren't." I say. She nods. 

"Sounds like a classic case of insomnia to me." She says. 

"Insomnia?" I ask. She nods. 

"Do either of your parents have it? Or any family members, really? There can be a genetic factor sometimes." 

"I don't know." I say simply. She nods. 

"Well I'm going to prescribe you with Zolpidem for now. It's strong so whatever you do, don't take more than one per twenty-four hour period and do not mix it with alcohol." She says, handing me a slip of paper. "But this is also a temporary helper. I suggest lowering stress levels, meditation, maybe therapy. Make sure you're fueling your body as well." She looks me up and down. I nod. 

Sounds like a bunch of stuff I don't have time for. 

**************************************

When I got home, I drank a bunch of water, took the medicine and even tried sitting in silence for five minutes as 'meditation'. But truth be told, I got bored and gave up after three. I'll make progress. 

But here I am, lying in bed, only a few hours away from the time I need to get up in the morning and my eyes are refusing to shut. 

At first, not being able to sleep was worrisome. Now, it was just inconvenient and I was fed up.  

I flipped onto my side and sighed. 

In a day, Dougie would be out. Alone, basically. Forced to change his life style on his own. Would he hold up? What if he ended up like Matt and had to go more times? Or worse...what if he didn't make it back? As far as I know Matt didn't try and kill himself. 

Seemed like everyone was getting more positive about Dougie's situation other than me. 

I can't take this. 

I open the bottle next to my bed and take another sleeping pill.

//