Chapter 10.

Birthday Ill-wishes.

XxX

APOV

What with me spending nearly a week at Homeward Bound, my life fell into a kind of routine: I'd wake up, get dressed, be whisked to rehab by Hoffman and Eric, stumble through a day's worth of therapy, and meet with Mallick in the afternoons. After spending so much time lazing about and injecting hits of heroin, a routine was just what I needed. I still occasionally felt that urge to get high, but even those were few and far between.

That wasn't the only thing that had changed about me, either. I'd started dressing properly, and had even managed to find some time to clean up my apartment a little. In one of those rare moments where I was able to just sit down and think, I'd often wonder what I'd be like when I came out on the other side. Maybe I'd be even more pedantic than I was now.

Pedantic or not, I had to admit that I was enjoying myself.

The days began to melt together, so much so that I couldn't really tell when my first week ended and a new one began. That's just the way it is when you're enjoying yourself. Time seems to speed up.

The afternoons were the best part of the day, because that was when I could see Mallick. As the days passed, we soon found other things to do other than eat chocolate glazed doughnuts, although we still ate those as well. It had become part of our routine. I'd go into Mallick's room, we'd pig out on the doughnuts, and then we'd just do whatever came to mind.

XxX

At present, both of us were seated on Mallick's bed, eating our way steadily through our chocolate glazed doughnuts. Mallick seemed to be enjoying his immensely, as he'd gotten chocolate icing all over himself. I grinned. I had no idea what we'd end up doing after this, but I was enjoying myself nevertheless.

Rehab really had begun to change me.

Licking the last of the icing off of my fingers, I glanced around Mallick's room. Over the past ten days, he had brought more and more stuff out of his suitcase, effectively making the room look more lived-in. He now had a CD player out, as well as seemingly endless piles of CDs. A piece of paper was tacked to the wall, and it had numerous band names scratched onto it in red ink. I stared at it, perplexed. Didn't Mallick know what his favourite band was, or something? Oh well. It's not your business, anyway. When Mallick wants to tell you, he'll tell you. I shrugged. It was probably nothing.

However, the calendar pinned next to the piece of paper was. I started up from the bed and peered at it more closely, not at all sure that what I was seeing was true. "No way," I said.

"What is it?" Mallick asked from his perch on the bed.

I didn't answer; just grinned stupidly. My mood had just risen from 'cheerful' to 'ecstatic'.

I heard Mallick get up from the bed. "What is it, Adam?" he asked again.

I turned to him, grinning like an idiot. "Tomorrow's my twenty-eighth birthday."

XxX

When Hoffman came knocking on my door the next day, I was already out of bed and dressed, and had eaten a substantial breakfast. Why was I so pumped today? Well, after all the usual routine at Homeward Bound, Mallick and I were going to celebrate in his room this afternoon, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited. I didn't expect any presents, but for some reason, it was okay this year. I'd be spending my birthday with a friend, which is a lot better than a lot of my previous birthdays. Me and Mallick. Alone. In his room. Celebrating my birthday. This might very well be worth all the crap I'd been through this year.

"You look happy today," Hoffman commented, as we made our way down the stairs, "Can I ask what the occasion is?"

"It's my birthday," I said simply. Hoffman goggled at me.

"Well, happy birthday!"

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, my foot slipped on the strangely damp carpet. Hoffman instantly reached out to steady me. I had a weird moment of déjà vu, flashing back to a time when someone else had saved me from a similar fall. I had been so drugged up that even walking proved a challenge. I swallowed tightly; I didn't want to spoil today with disgusting memories. However, the memory left its mark; I felt cold all over, and Hoffman's arm felt oddly warm on my arm.

"You okay?" Hoffman asked, concerned.

I shook myself out of that weirdness. "Yeah. I'm good."

Hoffman let go of my arm, and we made our way across the reception area. Surprisingly, Ivan was sitting at his desk, his miniature poodle, Chance, settled down around his feet. He was turning the pages of a magazine, yawning every so often. It was obvious, even to me, that he had been up all night. What he had been doing, I hadn't the faintest idea, but being the owner of this crappy building, he had to deal with drunks and whatnots all the time. It was fairly common to be woken up by someone's drunken yells late at night.

When Hoffman walked up to the desk, holding my apartment keys in one hand, Ivan seemed to jerk out of the daze he had been in. He set his magazine aside and leaned as far as his huge stomach would allow to take the keys off of Hoffman. "Thank you, Detective Lieutenant," he said, rubbing his eyes with a fat fist. Hoffman smiled vaguely and turned to go, but as he did so, Ivan seemed to realize that I was with him. I honestly don't know why he seemed so surprised; I had been exiting the building with either Matthews or Hoffman for quite a while now. "Ah, Adam," he said, wiping his eyes again, "Heard it was your birthday. Many happy returns."

"Uh, thanks." I turned to go, but Ivan called me back. I noticed Hoffman had a strange look on his face; like he was suspicious or something.

I leaned on the reception desk lazily, and I raised an eyebrow at Ivan questionably. He coughed and sputtered into his fist (the man was obviously not well), before reaching into a drawer. "Got something for you," he said. After a few more moments of rustling in the drawer, he pulled out an envelope. On it was my name, in an untidy scrawl. "Here you go," he said, handing it to me. I took it and shoved it in my pocket, curiosity rising up in me like an angry snake, but if it was bad, I'd rather open it later rather than sooner. I was determined to make this day a good one.

Besides, out of sight, out of mind, right?

"We'll see you later," Hoffman said curtly, escorting me out.

As the door closed, I could still fear Ivan's gaze upon me.

MPOV

The past two weeks went by in an amazing blur of rehab, chocolate glazed doughnuts, and silent mutual respect. The late afternoons were the best. It was kind of messed up how late afternoons/early evenings used to be my least favourite time of day, and now it had completely changed.

The two of us had fallen into a routine, and I think we were both grateful for it. Well, I knew I was. I was by no means ready to approach my father yet, but I was definitely on the path to recovery.

When the afternoons rolled around, we'd eat our chocolate glazed as usual, and then just do whatever came to mind. We had once just sat there, Adam looking more distraught than usual, with dark circles under his eyes. I'd automatically came to the conclusion that he'd fallen asleep sometime during the day, and, when I questioned as to what it had been about, he got that distant look on his face that he always got when his thoughts turned to the Jigsaw Killer. So I had told him what some of my dreams were about. Blood for fire. Bullets for knives. It had seemed only fair. And after we had finished 'burdening' each other, we just sat there and ate more chocolate glazed doughnuts, attempting (and succeeding) at creating a lighter atmosphere. We had both made an agreement that we would not let our dreams wreck another second of our lives when it wasn't necessary.

And things only improved from there. Adam had told me yesterday that today was his birthday, and I was now left with the problem of finding out what exactly to get him. Because while we had shared some of our deepest secrets with each other, I hadn't the faintest idea what he was into.

I was standing in my room, hands shoved in my pockets, trying to recall a time when he mentioned something that he liked, aside from chocolate glazed doughnuts. "Shit," I muttered, scowling at the wall. He'd told me he didn't expect any presents, but I wasn't about to let that happen.

I sighed. I'd think of something eventually.

APOV

Once Hoffman had dropped me off at Homeward Bound (he didn't walk in with me anymore; he apparently trusted me enough to be able to walk in by myself), the receptionist called me over to her desk. I walked over, curiosity burning. "Yeah?"

The receptionist shuffled some papers on her desk. "Many happy returns, Mr. Faulkner."

I stared at her for a moment, puzzled. Then I smiled. "Thanks." I made as if to move away, but the receptionist called me back again.

"Mr. Faulkner, as part of our policy, you are allowed to make one phone call to a friend today, free of charge, to any you like."

I stared at her. "Seriously?"

"Yes."

I felt a smile creep over my face. "Uh, wow." I frowned slightly, as I wondered who I could call. There was no point in calling Mallick, because I could just walk over to his room, but I hadn't the faintest idea who else I could call. I couldn't call my parents, because they had more or less disowned me when they discovered I was a junkie, and I had no other living relatives. Damn. This was going to be harder than I thought.

The receptionist's voice jerked me out of my thoughts. I stared at her for a moment, and realized that she'd asked me a question. "Uh, what?"

She smiled patiently, as if speaking to a particularly dim-witted child. That kind of pissed me off, but I was still trying to decide whom to call, so I let it slide. "I asked you who you were going to call?"

"Oh. Well, I don't know yet."

"Go take some time to think on it," the receptionist suggested, "And come back when you know. I'll be here."

I did just that.

XxX

After a brief meeting with Bobby Dagen, who informed me that he had accidentally filled my time slot with someone else (Crazy Drunk Rapist Bitch, actually), there was no real point in me hanging about his office. I was grateful for that. Bobby was a tool, but he was actually quite a tough therapist. I guess when you have so many tough patients, you can't exactly afford to be all sweet and nice. Still, I knew what he was doing. It was a lame excuse, but who was I to knock back some free time? I wasn't stupid, despite what that receptionist might think of me.

So now I was wandering the halls of Homeward Bound quite aimlessly, still wondering who on earth to call. I guess it was a little lame of me to get so pumped about something as ordinary as a phone call, but what most people don't realize is how isolated rehab really is. You aren't allowed to make phone calls, in case you get someone to smuggle weapons or illegal substances to you, and you certainly aren't allowed out on the streets after hours. They keep an eye on you. Though I was endlessly grateful to Jill and Homeward Bound for treating me, I was in lockdown the moment I entered my apartment. Once I went in, I wasn't allowed out until Hoffman or Matthews came to collect me the next morning. I could climb out the window, if I wanted to risk breaking my neck. For rich people like Mallick, they had the option of staying at Homeward Bound, where they were watched even more closely than I was.

So I guess I had every right to get excited about a phone call, because it was a temporary ticket to the outside world.

Then it just hit me.

Seth. I could call Seth.

He was a friend of mine, no matter how screwed-up he was. Yeah. I could ring him, and see how he and Angelina were. Though it had only been just over two weeks since I last talked to him, I missed him like crazy. We had been friends since high school. I owed him.

I wasted no time in making my way back to the receptionist. She raised an eyebrow when she saw me approaching. "Didn't think I'd see you back here so quickly," she said. It was my turn to raise an eyebrow, silently asking her what she was insinuating. She didn't rise up to the challenge. She asked me who I was going to call, holding a phone book in hand, and I told her to look up Seth Baxter. Baxter was not a common name, so she found it in a couple of seconds. She dialled the number, and held the receiver out to me.

"Thanks," I said, taking it from her and holding it to my ear. She remained standing where she was. I glared at her, silently commanding her to move. I didn't want her to listen in on my conversation.

She tossed her hair impatiently. "I'm not allowed to leave you alone."

Great. Just great. She was going to listen in on my conversation, and be a massive distraction. Sighing, I turned away from her. Out of sight, out of mind.

The phone rang four or five times before Seth picked up. "Yeah?" His voice was slightly slurred, and I guessed that he had been drinking before picking up the phone. In the background, I heard a woman laugh shrilly. Angelina. Had to be.

"Hey, Seth, this is Adam."

"Wha'?"

I sighed. This was the Seth I knew. Stupid and forgetful, as always. "This is Adam."

"Adam? Man, is that seriously you?"

"Yeah."

Seth let out what must have been a laugh, but it sounded more like a drunken roar. Damn. "It's about fucking time, man. I wondered where the hell you were. Angie here reckons you'd fallen into a ditch and died or some shit."

I chuckled, but there was a knot of dark, uneasy feelings inside me. Sooner or later, I'd have to tell him where I was, and why I hadn't been able to keep in contact. "That was very nice of Angie to say that. Tell her thanks for having so much faith in me."

"I will, man. I will. Hey, so where the hell were you these past few weeks? Believe it or not, I've actually been worried about your scrawny ass." There was genuine concern in his voice, and it didn't make me feel any better. I was going to have to tell him, and soon.

"I've been called away," I said evasively, hoping that he'd be distracted as so many drunken people often are.

"Away? Where to?"

Shit. "Just…away."

Seth sucked in a sharp breath. "You're not in any trouble, are you, Adam?" Though the question was innocent enough, I heard the threat underneath it. Those dark feelings in me grew stronger. I hated it when he got like this. He was impossible to argue with.

I sighed. "Not exactly." Behind me, I heard the receptionist chuckle darkly. I turned around and gave her my angriest stare. It worked. She deflated before my eyes, and moved her gaze elsewhere.

"Then tell me what the fuck it is, Adam. I'm your friend. I deserve to know." The threat was more pronounced now.

I swallowed tightly. Screw it. He did deserve to know. "I-I'm in rehab." I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the blow to fall.

I didn't have to wait for long. "Son of a bitch!" Seth swore. Wincing, I held the receiver away from my ear. "What the fuck, Adam?"

"I couldn't exactly help it, you know," I said defensively. "A cop arrested me."

"You stupid fuck!"

I didn't say anything to that, because it was the truth. I had been stupid that day.

There was a long silence. "That pisses me off, Adam," Seth said finally. "It really pisses me off."

I didn't reply. In the background, I heard Angelina ask Seth something. What I heard next was appalling. He roared at her drunkenly, and then, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh rang through my ears. I winced, wanting to put the receiver back on the hook, but not wanting to at the same time.

"I have such a temper," Seth said mildly, almost lightly. Then he seemed to become focused again. "You're going to regret this Adam, you really are."

He hung up. I stared at the receiver for a moment before placing it on the hook. I squeezed my eyes shut for half a second and then opened them.

"I'm really tired."

The receptionist stopped mid-sentence. I had no idea what she had been saying before I interrupted her. "I'm really tired," I repeated. I could hear the hollowness in my own voice. Empty. No emotion. "Thanks for the phone call, but if you don't mind…"

"Of course," she said stiffly. "I'll let you get on with business, then."

She thought I was on a comedown from using heroin again, I could tell. I wanted to tell her that it wasn't that.

But I was too caught up in my own personal drama to say a word. I felt like someone had ripped my heart out and tossed it to the other side of the room. There was a burning, agonizing pain in my chest. It was one thing to accept that I was a drug addict and needed to be treated, but it was something entirely different to know that I'd lose friends over it.

I didn't waste any time in walking into the second lounge. No-one was there, because they all had a meeting with some counsellor or other. I considered going to Mallick's room, but then dismissed the idea. I didn't have enough energy to do that. So I sat down on one of the plastic chairs and just sat there, thinking. Thinking and imagining.

I spent the rest of the day doing little more than that. I skipped lunch. I skipped my appointment with Joyce Dagen. I even skipped going to Mallick's room. I shed a few tears. But mostly, I just sat there thinking, and growing more and more depressed y the minute. I discovered that the only thing worse than not having Seth as a friend anymore was remembering the times when we had been friends. He would never talk to me again, never do crazy stuff together again…

This was the worst birthday ever.