I’d been in the hospital almost two weeks. As promised, it was Chris who took me home, not my crazy parents. We owed Wandra big time for that one. Larry and Jesse were there when we pulled up to my apartment, like there as in inside my place, not waiting on the steps. I had to find out how Larry was getting in my apartment. The guys came outside and took my bags, while Chris helped me inside. I still had stitches in my side. The doctor said I’d have to go back in a month to get the stitches out, and for now to just keep my scar covered with ointment and a dressing as much as possible so the wound would continue to heal properly. He said this would also reduce the scarring, which to be honest, I didn’t give a fuck about. The scar inside of me was much deeper and would never heal right. At least, that’s how I was feeling as Chris helped me onto the couch. “Jesse and I stocked your fridge,” Larry told me once we were all settled in my living room passing a joint.
