Peter Gabriel Kemp (father_peter) wrote in darker_london, @ 2018-11-04 22:58:00 |
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Current mood: | blank |
Entry tags: | abigail littleton, peter kemp |
Cynic (Abby, Peter)
It may have been an odd space for an injection, the back yard, but Peter had refused to leave his house just so Abby could shoot more Disulfiram into his body. It was a drug which reacted with alcohol and made anyone who drank while on it feel absolutely awful. Peter wasn't going to go out of his way for that. In fact he had been avoiding Abby entirely for two weeks and when she had shown up at his house he had unequivocally told her he would only let her inject him in the yard, out of view of his kids.
They didn't need to see it.
Smoke from Peter's cigarette curled skywards as Abby prepared the injection. He was watching her, his back aching already from the plastic lawn furniture he somehow still hadn't replaced with anything better. "I wish you had called before coming over," he finally managed to say.
"And give you a chance to not be at home?" Abby looked over to him, one of her immaculate eyebrows raised so high it was hidden by her fringe. "I have been calling you for weeks telling you your next dose was up. I know you've been dodging my calls."
"I wasn't dodging your calls, I was flat out ignoring them," Peter said, not watching to see the reaction on her face. He knew he was being unkind, but considering what she was about to do to him, he didn't much care at the moment.
"Ugh, you're such a bitch sometimes," Abby hissed, drawing the drug into a needle so she could inject him with it. "Seriously, Peter. This dose is overdue, you have to tell me if you've been drinking okay? If I put this in your body and you've got any alcohol in your bloodstream it'll be-"
"I'm with my kids!" Peter hissed right back at her.
"And that didn't really stop you before," she said, matching his unkind tone with her own.
Peter had to admit she had a point there, though that was before. It was before detox and taking a break and while he felt like the world was falling apart. Maybe it still was, but not because of anything involving him. "Right. Touche. I haven't been drinking. Just...get it the fuck over with." He rolled up his sleeve and offered her his arm. Concentrating on his cigarette was much more enjoyable than the cold of the alcohol swab, followed by the sharp prick of the needle, and the warmth of the drug in his veins.
"All done. I gave you a plaster with a rainbow on it," Abby rolled down his shirt sleeve for him and he let her.
"I'm back on your leash again," Peter mumbled, turning away from her. "You can go tell everyone you did a good job controlling me."
"Oh for fuck's sake," Abby rolled her eyes spectacularly, but Peter missed it. "This is standard care for alcoholics, Peter. That is what you are. You are an alcoholic and you need to deal with that. It is not my fault!" There was a pause and then she added, "and it's not yours either. It's a disease. I can stop doing the injections if you want, but that won't suddenly make you not an alcoholic."
She was right, and when he reached out to take her hand, he could see she was surprised by the gesture. "You're right. I'm sorry, Abby. I hate this. I feel so ashamed- You're here putting drugs in me so there's consequences if I drink. This is awful, this is-"
Abby squeezed his hand, and Peter was so grateful. "Yes," she agreed. "It is awful."
He couldn't muster enough gratitude for the injection to thank her for it, but he could be glad she was there with him. "Don't leave?"
Abby smiled then, and she busied herself by putting away her supplies before relaxing into the plastic chair beside him. "Are you feeling any better at least?"
That was a difficult question to answer and for a moment Peter concentrated on taking the last few drags on his cigarette and then snuffing it out. "I'm feeling- I don't know. Aly's been going to the hospital more and more and she is really enjoying it. I stay here with the kids and honestly? I wish I-" Peter closed his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. "I wish I could just stay at home with them for good." He didn't need a job. He had started the hospital and it could run itself now. Aly could run it, she was great at it. But.
"But you can't," Abby said for him. "Because Aly isn't you?"
"Because Aly isn't me," Peter said, his voice flat and dull. There were so many people in his hospital who depended on him. Not the staff, not the hospital, not anyone else; him. There were some people who lived there who trusted one person in the entire world and he was it. That was a lot of responsibility and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't ignore it forever. "Goddammit."
He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to give Abby a tired glance. "It's going to kill me, Abs. Being Peter Kemp is going to kill me." When she didn't have any words of reassurance for him, he wasn't really surprised. "And I might just let it."
"Peter-"
Having asked her to stay seemed like a mistake all of a sudden. He rose from the chair, his back cracking as he straightened up. "Sorry, I- I should get back to the kids."
"You can't just-"
"They're waiting. You can find your way back to the car, yeah? Thanks. See you in four weeks I guess, hmm?" He slipped back inside quickly, only catching the devastated look on her face for a second. Fuck he was an idiot. Honest to a fault, but an idiot all the same.