Gerd looked up from the rotten mattress, his eyes ratlike and wild. “Well?”
I shook my head. “Not until tomorrow.”
“Goddamnit. I told you we should’ve–”
“Should’ve what? Not smoked everything? As I recall, you were the one with the pipe in your mouth.”
He looked ready to fight, but then the rage drained out him. He slumped against the wall, beaten.
“Jesus, Gerd. You’re not crying, are you? We’ll get more. Just not today.”
“That’s not it,” he sobbed. “I just can’t do this anymore.” He raised his head, eyes shining. “This is not living. This is not life.”
Krankhaus, for those who may not know, is the German word for “hospital.” Literally translated, it is “sick house.”
And this is a very sad story, indeed.
Nice piece, I can see your story in the photo.
Another sign of the times. It’s always been around but just a lot more now. I also commented on your other description of the symptoms of a diseased society as evidenced by its burned-out, broken-down abandoned buildings (and beleaguered population.)
I like the ‘rat-like’ eyes. Great description.
He’s realised it’s wrong, but is it too late?
My tale – ‘No pain no gain!
I’ve only heard Krankenhaus for hospital, but perhaps you had another reason to spell it that way? Addiction as a sickness. Sadly this “hospital” seems to have no nurses, doctors, nor course of treatment. Not far from the equally indefensible insane asylums of yore. Hope he gets out.
When you hit the bottom… there’s no place to go but UP!
Sad story of finding the bottom.
Time for him to turn a corner, for the better I hope
Very well-described.