April POV:
I awake early the next morning to the sound of Mark's alarm clock blaring through the thin wall that separates his room from ours. I groan and look at the watch still attached to my wrist. 6:00? Why would Mark set his alarm clock for this early in the morning?
I roll over slightly, turning away from the wall, and feel a sharp pain shoot through my back and neck. I open my eyes and it is then that I realize that Roger and I fell asleep on the floor.
I shake the man, still sound asleep, next to me and he grunts a little and then lazily cracks his eyelids open.
"April?" he murmurs sleepily and turns his head to the window. "It's still dark out…"
"I know," I whisper, keeping my voice low so Mark doesn't hear me. "We need to see The Man…"
This gets him wide awake, as he remembers that we used up all our smack last night and need to get more before Mark is awake and asking questions.
He stands up, wearing the same clothes he was wearing the night before, and I glance down at myself and notice that I too forgot to get dressed before falling asleep. Or…passing out. The latter is more likely, considering that we are both still fully clothed and on the floor.
We step out of the room and walk quietly into the living room, digging through our pockets at the same time looking for any money whatsoever that we didn't spend last night. We're so intent on scrounging up any form of money at all that we don't even see Mark sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of steaming coffee.
"Good morning."
I turn around, startled, and scream, surprising Roger as well as he trips over his guitar case, which was carelessly left out on the floor.
Mark looks a little startled himself at my reaction.
"Hey," Roger mutters as he picks himself up and resumes his path to the door.
Mark jumps in front of him. "Where are you going?"
"Out," Roger replies as he shoves Mark out of his way. I follow closely behind, desperate to get to The Man and to my drug.
Mark steps in his way again and I begin to notice Roger's hands shaking a little as he attempts to push Mark away.
"Wait Roger," Mark says, grabbing hold of his arm. "Why don't you have breakfast first?"
Roger glances at me and I say quickly, "We're eating out."
Roger nods. "Yeah. We're going to the Life."
He tries to walk out the door again but Mark stops him. "Rog, it's only 6:00. The Life isn't open yet."
"Get the hell out of my way," Roger growls, shoving Mark, hard, against the wall.
At any other time, I would have felt bad for Mark, and angry at Roger for treating him this way. But right now, the only thing on my mind is shooting up, so I don't object or protest, I simply slip out the door quickly while Mark is still on the ground looking up at Roger in shock.
I can hear Mark yelling at Roger to come back but Roger doesn't listen and in a few seconds he joins me outside and he grabs my hand as we walk…well, more like run…down the street, looking in the park, in alleyways, anywhere we can think of to find The Man before the shaking we are both beginning to feel gets any worse.
An hour later we walk back in the loft, satisfied now that the poison has been injected and is coursing through our veins, calming our bodies.
Mark is sitting on the couch and doesn't look up when he hears us come in.
"Hey Mark," Roger slurs and continues the path to his room.
"Where were you?" Mark asks, without looking up from the newspaper in his lap.
"None of your business."
At this Mark throws the newspaper down and grabs Roger by the shoulders, pushing him down onto the couch. This startles me and I quickly retreat to Roger's room, afraid that I might be next if I don't get out of there soon.
From behind the closed door I can hear the conversation and it is scaring me, making my need for more heroin greater and greater as it continues. From what I can hear, Mark found out about our addiction…or at least that's what he keeps calling it. I can't make out very much though, because the pounding in my head is growing louder and louder. The only thing I can concentrate on is the shaking of my hands, the only thing my mind can focus on is getting more smack.
Mark POV:
I shake my head and stare down at the floor, unable to believe that Roger is still trying to deny this after everything that's happened. Doesn't he know how obvious it is?
Suddenly I hear a loud crash coming from Roger's room and I run in there to see what happened. Roger on the other hand, takes this opportunity to run out of the loft, presumably to buy more smack. I shake my head again. Unbelievable. That's not Roger. The Roger I used to know would have dropped anything for his friends, would have sacrificed anything for their well-being.
That man…well, that's not even a person at all. He's the shell of a man that used to be my best friend. He's not my best friend anymore. No, now his only friend is the one thing that has him under complete control, the poison that's taking his life and the lives of the people around him: heroin.
I suddenly hear the sound of Roger's door opening again and I turn around quickly to see April race out of his room and into the bathroom where she vomits into the toilet. I follow closely and hold her hair back as she continues to heave for the next half hour.
Finally, she collapses on the floor and I slide down next to her, holding her in my arms to try and ease the shaking that has overcome her body. We don't say anything but I know we are both thinking the same thing. She knows she needs help. Whether she's willing to admit it or not, she knows the truth.
After a while she begins to cry out in pain and I just hold her closer, at a loss of what to do for I have never found myself in this position before. Finally I just scoop her up in my arms and carry her back to Roger's room, placing her on the bed and laying the thickest blanket I can find over her frail body.
She grabs onto the corners of the sheets and holds it so tightly that I can see her knuckles beginning to turn white.
I look around quickly for a phone, deciding that maybe I should call a doctor since I have no idea what you're supposed to do for people in withdrawal.
I walk out of the room, promising to be back soon and just as I pick up the phone I hear the front door to the loft open and Roger walks in, looking happy and serene. I take one look at his face and want to slap him. He's high again. He went out for a bit of fun while his girlfriend was writhing in pain on the bathroom floor, covered in her own sweat and vomit.
I glare at him and he stares back at me with a blank look on his face. I just stand there looking at the shadow of a man that stands before me for a few seconds before a high-pitched scream comes from the bedroom, snapping me out of my daze.
I turn around to run back to April but before I even have the chance to move, Roger dashes in ahead of me and locks the door securely behind him.
After a few minutes, I can hear the pained screams begin to die off and in its place are drug induced giggles. I shake my head sadly, fed up with the two of them and their drug habits.
I sigh, kicking the newspaper that now lies at my feet. I can't take it anymore, I need to get away. I've been staying in the loft for weeks now, never going out just in case Roger and April went out and got too wasted to find make it home on their own and needed someone to pick them up. I've taken care of them when they were too messed up or uncaring to do it for themselves, spent hours with them in the bathroom, holding back April's hair, rubbing Roger's back when they had no money to get the heroin they needed to prevent them from going into withdrawal… I never see Maureen anymore because I always have to be here in case Roger or April need me, but I can't play nursemaid to them any longer.
I sigh angrily and snatch my camera up from the kitchen table and start heading out the door. I need a break. Maybe I can stay with Collins for a few days until I figure out what to do. My hand is on the doorknob and I'm about to leave but as a last thought I stop and pick up Roger's guitar as well, knowing that he'd sell it if he got desperate enough. And I know he'd regret that later on.
So, with my camera and Roger's guitar in hand I manage to open the front door to the loft and walk down the stairs onto the street, the sounds of April and Roger giggling haunting my mind even as I reach Collins' apartment and step inside.
