Page 3 of Toxic Wishes

“That’s wish time?” He says, wrinkling his nose at me.

“Duh. 11:11 signifies the time when an angel is near you and trying to communicate with you. Some numerologists believe that November 11 is the luckiest day of the year because of its full potential for wish granting.”

“That’s a crock of shit because we both are in the hospital hooked up to machines.”

I ignore his skepticism. “It could be worse. We could be dead instead.” I say.

“Death doesn’t scare me like most. It seems easy compared to this life shit.” He says as if referencing death is an everyday thing for him.

“Anyway, I should have known you were a Scorpio. We are sensitive souls, but not as much as Pisces.”

“What makes you think I'm so sensitive? And what are you? The zodiac expert?”

I shrug my shoulders and tip my head to the side briefly. “Kind of. And with that hair, that attitude, and that physique,” I motion up and down, “You’re a bundle of emotions.”

He scrunches his face in disgust.

“Whatever you say, and if I’m so emotional, then I have good intuition, which means I am right. You’re in here because you have an eating disorder.” He says, switching the subject.

I let out a deep sigh. “Ya, you’re right, happy now?” I say quickly.

“I know my drug addicts.” He says, plopping his head back on his pillow and placing his hands behind his head.

“Scorpios are pretty intuitive, but you don’t strike me as one. You seem more like a cusp baby, like a Gemini-Pisces.”

“A what baby?” He lifts his head slightly to look at me, raising his left eyebrow. I can’t help but laugh. “A cusp baby, anyone born between the nineteenth through the twenty-fourth of any month is considered a cusp baby.”

“How do you know so much about this shit? Are you a witch or something?”

I shake my head. “It’s the study of Astrology, numb nuts.”

His lips pierce into a thin line.

“I’m just kidding. Unless your nuts are numb.” I say with a slight chuckle.

“Sweetheart, when you do as much drugs as I do, it’s pretty common for my dick not to work when I want it to.”

His comment almost slices me in half. “T-M-I,” I say, looking away but then back at him.

“Is that why you are here, drugs?” My voice softens.

“Ya, I was prescribed pain meds when I had jaw surgery, not once but twice. Hurts like a motherfucker.” Once he says that, I notice how square his jaw is and remember how perfect his teeth looked even from here. “And I don’t know, it’s like, I never knew what I was missing before drugs. It helped ease the pain in more ways than one, and I just got addicted. Addicted to that feeling, that rush. The high. Chasing it over and over.”

“Well, it doesn’t help when you are fascinated by forms of escape that make you susceptible to addictions.”

“How do you know?” He says defensively.

“It takes one to know one, and you’re a Scorpio retreating to a safe haven, which is normal since we don’t like dealing with aspects of daily life.”

“Sounds like most people in general.” He mutters.

I lower my gaze on him, and he stops talking so I can finish. “Television, movies, music, and books are healthy habits for us, but addiction to drugs, alcohol, sex, or violence is always a real possibility, too. But mix that with being secretive and controlling, then you have a ball of depressive, worrying escapist running around.”

“I think you need to stop reading that crap. It’s not helping you.” Blake says with a stoic expression on his face.

“We have strengths too.” I continued. “We are steadfast and serious when we need to be. And sexual, which isn’t always a bad thing because it makes us seductive and affectionate, which also makes us great lovers. And I’ve learned with all the zodiac signs, finding a balance between the good and bad is key, no matter what sign you are.”

“Seductive, huh?” He smirks, waggling his eyebrows at me.

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