Hurt leg?

"RACHEL, RACHEL!" I open one eye. "Where is dad" he says, wide eyed. I start to sit up and say no. I rub the sleep out of my eyes, and I watch him hobble away, then all the sudden shoot up the stairs? I do not comprehend what is going on. I decide to return to my position that I was so comfortable in before I got interrupted. My mom peeks her head in through the sliding door and says. "TIMMY?" He comes slowly, limping, down the stairs. "Where is dad?" he says pretending to look sick, or hurt. His face transformed itself, magically. His posture is slumped over. His eyes now look droopy.

I become to feel sick to my stomach. He hobbles over to my mom and repeats the question. She looks at him "Dear God, Tim. What in the world happen to you?!" He replies with a bit of a raspy voice, followed by a cough. "I fell off the roof at work, and hurt my leg." My mom turns her attention to his leg. "I just wanted some of dad's pain killers, to... you know... kill the pain." He kind of half smiles, as if he is in no pain. Which I know he is not in any.

"SURE THING!" my mom says, feeling bad for him. She runs upstairs and gives him a pill, and states the name, which I do not remember. My mom hands him a cup of water, and he downs the two little pills.

"Thanks..." he says, unsatisfied. He hobbles quickly back to his car.

"Do YOU just know what YOU did?!" I say trying not to scream, once he shuts the door. My mom laughs. "And you are laughing about it?!" I scream back. I gave him (she says a medication that I do not recall the name of), and laughs.

"... And you are still laughing?!" I sit up and start becoming livid. She laughs "Rachel, I gave him a wimpy pill, it does nothing. It allows the muscles to relax. No matter if snorted, smoked, inhaled, or ANYTHING. It will not affect his metal...self." I calm down. I lye back down and slow my breathing. "How do you know that?" I question her. "Dad told me that Tim knows his work schedule, and will come over unexpectedly and will give any excuse to get his or my drugs." I look at her puzzled, waiting for her to continue. "Sooo...."


"Sooooo..." she replies "Dad was and has been in undercover narcotics for over 20 years. IF dad says to give him that pill, OBVIOUSLY it will do nothing to alter him" She sighs because I do not look convinced. "That is why he swallowed it, Rachel! It will do nothing for his "liking" "

I begin to feel a little bit better. I know that he took some medication before my mom called him downstairs. Why did I say he was not home. It is my fault.

My mom goes back outside to prune whatever flower she randomly decided to become her new "hobby". I go upstairs, just to see what he took.


.......My medication was gone.