She arrived last night. Quickly wheeled in. Blood rushing down her arm straight from the pinhole in her vein.
Eyes rolled to the back of her head. Dressed in rags with bruises up her neck. Hair mangled and tangled in every which way.
She looked like warrior defeated in battle. Suffering. Barely clinging to the little strand of life she had left.
Doctors yelled every which way, yelling for charcoal and trying to find a place to attempt to stabilize her.
Not even caring to tell every one to rush into their rooms as they usually do when they recieve more junk to throw in this waste bin.
Shouts come from down the other hall. My ears echo with the sound of running.
Taking another drag of my cigarette I almost choke on my smoke realizing who had yelled.
Trevor Morgan. The quietest mother fucker in here. Not to mention one of the most helpless.
"ASH?!" Trevor begins a full on sprint.
"GET AWAY! TREVOR! YOU NEED TO BACK OFF! WERE DOING WHAT WE CAN"
Doctors tackle him as he struggles. Screaming the same name over and over.
All which was bothering him is now forgotten. Lost in the space of time and confusion.
His body turned limp as he fell to the floor while a doctor throws the used syringe into a disposal bin.
Its their answer to everything. One person acts out of line.. one prick and your gone.
Body filled with numbness. Mind clouded with overcast.
I’ve felt it many times over my time spent here.
Crushing the little bit of relief I’m allowed to have in this place under my foot I stroll back into my abyss of a room.

MEDS!
Oh how I love that call.
ANDREA ANDERSON
I never understood why she yells like that.
FRANK BERLIN
I mean, she knows everyone.
ROSA BLAKERS
And everyone knows their spot in line.
KAYLA CATLIN
The only thing I hate about this line is the person in front of me and the person behind me.
CHARLIE CARKNEN
Hes had a crush on me ever since I have arrived here. He says that he digs crazy chicks. What a fucker.
SPENCER CARLTIN
Hey Lisa. Whatcha got for me today babe
She rolls her eyes.
Same as always Spencer. Sleep meds. Lithium.
Aw. No methadone… Oxy? Nothing?
No Spencer.
Maybe next time huh?
Keep wishin.
Walking away I quickly take the pills out from underneath my tongue and slip them in my pocket.

By now you probably are confused as to where I am. Am I in rehab or a looney bin?
I am in both I’d say.
I’m in jail. I’m in rehab. I’m in heaven. I’m in hell. And I’m everywhere in between.
I’m at my last chance texaco.
Have you read that book?
I suggest it.
Its about foster home living.
The fuck up foster kids.
The ones who can never stay out of trouble.
They go through home to home to home until they reach one house.
Its their last chance to fill up on gas before an endless dessert.
Its their last chance at turning their life around. If they mess up one more time they get sent to a juvinile detention center.

Well this is my Last Chance Texaco.
Everyone here has fucked up so bad that they come here as a dead end.
At the end of one year they choose between three options.
Recovered. You get to be free.
Extended. You’ve shown improvement but your not ‘quite ready’ yet.
or the last one.
Discontinued. Which means you go to jail if your a junkie. A dead end asylum, straight jacket included if your a wacko. Or the streets if your both.

One month down.
11 more to go.

Welcome to Wilson Recovery and Rehabilitation
And I hope you enjoy your stay just as much as I do.