I knew last Friday was going to be a crazy day. It was. My adopted brother ran away from the clinic where he was having a detox treatment. He's nineteen, and he cannot handle his reality.
The result was that he decided he didn't want to continue being there in a nanosecond. And left without telling the others. So, we were informed that he would come to our places, and that we should take him back to finish what he had started.
My sister and I thought we were having a déjà vu, we lived the same situation more than a year ago, when he left a previous treatment. At that moment we knew what to do, and on Friday we were sure it was a matter of time. My father was really pissed off, as my brother was about to have one day off with the family every fifteen days. Now he lost all the benefits for having escaped, he had achieved half of the treatment (it's a 3- year treatment).
I cannot express in words how disappointed we all feel. How helpless we feel. What's wrong with him? Why can't he finish? Life shouldn't be that complicated.
He appeared at 5 AM (we couldn't sleep): he was found drunk in the street and taken to a hospital, we picked him up there, and took him again to the clinic. He said he didn't want to go back. We tried to make him reason he was wrong, but drunk as he was, it didn't matter.
During the weekend we were in open communication with the team that runs the clinic: he was in denial, trying to punch all his mates. Then, he reached the bottom, and cried. Thank God for that.
There's a new beginning ahead.
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