Emma: I Wonder if he Remembers Me

StoryShop Forums #JoinTheStory JTS: Emma (Drug Abuse) Emma: I Wonder if he Remembers Me

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    StoryShop Uni
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    When I close my eyes, I can still see the lights of the ambulance–shattered, confused. Everything’s wet. The bench, the pavement. I’m in a fishbowl. I recognize it now as the glass shield of the bus stop with rivulets of rain running down.

    The touch of the EMT is distant and dull. He’s there to do his job. I’m probably not even an interesting evening–just another junkie. At least he’s there to help.

    Of all the stupid things to think while half-drowning in your own puke, I remember wondering if the EMT thinks I’m pretty. Of course, the answer is no. I can’t envision what I’m wearing. I’ve no recollection at all. Whatever it was, it was either so filthy or indecent that someone had to replace it at some point between my ambulance ride and my arrival at the clinic.

    What had I put on that morning? Or had I already taken it off by the time…God, why would anyone want me?

    A bout of nausea washes over me. I open my eyes and gulp for air. I’m chilled. I’m sweating. The room is tilted slightly off-center. The longer I focus at the chipped popcorn ceiling, the further it shifts to the side until I’m forced to close my eyes to keep from feeling like I’m sliding off the bed.

    I’m such an idiot. What kind of person ends up in this place?

    Pink Floyd–Dark Side of the Moon tee. That’s what I was wearing. I wonder if the EMT remembers me.

    Fire in the hole!
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