“No.”
They all turned to Spencer who had answered before the doctor even had a chance to open his mouth.
Martina gasped. “Spencer! What nonsense is this?”
“Fuck off, mother. All of you. I’m not moving from here.”Not moving away from him.But he kept that to himself, determined.
“That’s not your call, Spencer.” His father looked incredulous.
“It is, actually. The young man is an adult.” The doctor just kept that smile. “If he wants to stay, you have no say in the matter I am afraid.”
Spencer smirked. “The young man wants to stay, yes.”
His mother huffed. “Nonsense! And the press! How will you give them a statement in this shabby room?”
“I won’t… and if all you can do is worry about the press and my hair, you can leave now. Before I ask you to fuck off.”
The doctor shifted on his feet. “There’s something else…” Meeting Spencer’s eyes. “You had a scan when you came in and a blood test… and your liver is in a sorry state.” He looked at all of them, the stunned parents, and into Spencer's dark eyes. “It is in such a bad state that I have to tell you now, if you don’t limit your consumption of alcohol, it might just shut down at some point.”
Spencer swallowed, floating a bit. “I see…”
“I’m truly sorry.”
“And if I stopped… if… would it heal?”
“You’re young, so anything is possible at this stage. I’d say no alcohol, a healthy diet and lifestyle, and you could maybe salvage it.”
Martina blinked at the doctor. “He’s sick?”
“His liver is, so technically, yes.”
“Because of drinking a bit?”
Spencer snickered, dark. “Mother… of course it’s because of alcohol.” His eyes went to the doctor. “That’s a right fuckery, but I suppose you play, you win.”
The doctor shrugged, readjusting an IV bag. “As I said, it’s not too late, maybe…”
Henry looked at Spencer. “You could go back to that rehab centre…”
Spencer laughed softly. “That golden cage? No, thanks… they never managed anything.”
The doctor raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been to rehab already?”
Martina perked in. “The Meadow, nonetheless! A prime resort! But of course not good enough for mister self-important here!”
Spencer gave her a tried look. “I almost died, kidnapped… good to know you have your priorities right by calling me names.” He raised a hand to shut her up and looked up at the doctor. “If you’d have an address for a centre catering for 'common' people, I’d very much like to have it.”
Martina’s eyes went wide. “You can’t go to one of those shabby places with all sorts of alcoholics and junkies.”
“But I’m both, mother.” Somehow, it felt good saying and watching her face contort with wrath and outrage.
“Spencer! I have no words!”
“Then shut up.” Looking back at that silent doctor. “So?”
“I’ll get you an address. The psychiatrist will be here to see you soon.”
“Great…” Impatient, he looked at his parents. “Just go… I’m too tired to bear your nerves and hissy fits.”
