Author's note: The story will get painfully descriptive, so if you are easily upset, skip reading this. It's rated T for a reason, people! BTW-yes, it's now in third person.
"Roger! You have a visitor!" Mrs. Cohen knocked on Roger's door. "Roger, don't make me tell you again!" Roger mumbled something inaudibly, rolling over in bed. Mrs. Cohen opened the door. "Roger, it's almost lunchtime. Get up and get dressed. You have a visitor." Roger sat up slowly. "Morning to you too," he muttered. Mrs. Cohen left, and Roger stood. Pulling on his sweatshirt, he glanced in the mirror. "Good enough," he told himself. He headed downstairs, slightly shocked to see his mother, Charlene, on the couch. She threw her arms around him. "Roger, baby, I'm here to stay!" Roger just looked at her. "Yeah, right. That's what you said last time. And the time before that." Charlene smiled. "I mean it this time." Roger ignored her, glancing at Mark, who looked upset. Mark hated conflict, and Roger knew what he was thinking. He moved towards Mark's side. He glared at Charlene. "I want nothing to do with you. We start high school tomorrow. I just want to graduate without you screwing up my life!" He looked at Mark's mom. "Tell her I don't want to go with her!" Mrs. Cohen sighed. "Unfortunately, Roger, I can't legally stop her." Roger frowned. "But…what about…I mean…I can't leave. Mark needs me!" Charlene smiled. "Roger, honey, I want you to live with me now." "And what about what I want?" Roger was livid. "I want to stay here. I want to help my friend. Mrs. Cohen, you know what he'll do if I'm not around for him!" She nodded. "Maybe he needs to see a real doctor." Roger glanced at Mark, who was nervously scratching at his arm. Roger moved his arms apart gently. "Don't worry," he muttered. "I'm not going anywhere!"
Ten minutes later, Roger found himself in the passenger seat of his mother's car, being taken sullenly from Mark's house. Charlene was chattering away, but Roger slipped headphones onto his ears, turning the volume of his Hendrix tape on full. Charlene, however, yanked the headphones off. "First rule, young man. No rock and roll in my car. No loud music in my house. Bedtime is ten-thirty sharp on school nights. Weekends, in the house by midnight, in bed by one. Up at six-thirty on school days, weekends, eight am. No drugs, no alcohol, no attitude. Any questions?" "One," Roger said. "How exactly are you going to forbid me from drinking and drugs if that's what you're best at?" Charlene backhanded him. "I am trying, Roger. I've been in rehab. I've been getting clean. Please don't make this difficult for us." Roger just shrugged. "Can I have my headphones back now?" Charlene tossed them to him, smiling. "See, we're getting along already." Roger just rolled his eyes and escaped back into Hendrix.