The Worlds We Make
“I’d known Gav was sick the moment I’d seen him scratching his wrist when we stood outside Toronto’s city hall. I’d known that after five or so days of itching and coughing and sneezing, the virus multiplying through his body would break down the part of his brain that filtered the thoughts and impulses he knew better than to let out, while making him crave constant company. And I knew that, before much longer, his mind would short-circuit completely, into a series of violent hallucinations and ...delusions.
But knowing it did me no good. For what felt like a few hours, he and I lay on the rug, and Gav slept and woke, slept and woke. Each time he stirred into consciousness, I offered him the sedative drink, until he pushed the bottle away so forcefully it popped from my fingers and half of the remaining liquid splashed onto the floor.
After that, I didn’t ask again.
Could we manage to keep him calm in the car undrugged? Was there some way I could trick him into taking one of the pills instead?MoreLess
But knowing it did me no good. For what felt like a few hours, he and I lay on the rug, and Gav slept and woke, slept and woke. Each time he stirred into consciousness, I offered him the sedative drink, until he pushed the bottle away so forcefully it popped from my fingers and half of the remaining liquid splashed onto the floor.
After that, I didn’t ask again.
Could we manage to keep him calm in the car undrugged? Was there some way I could trick him into taking one of the pills instead?MoreLess
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