Okay, I haven't written anything in awhile. A very very very long while. I don't even know if those who paid attention to this story are still around. But I found chapter six on my hard drive and am hoping it inspires me to finish this story - I hate reading left off WIPs and hate to think this will become one of them.
Chapter Six
Visitor Only
Reversed positions. Mark had a spine and the first thing he'd
responded to was Mark throwing a folded piece of paper at him and
telling to him to get the fuck off the floor. He
never realized Mark had it in him. Maureen even backed off.
So he got up. So he let himself be shoved in a cab. He half
listened to Mark and Collins argue over what he'
should be doing – it all still seemed very far away. What
the hell was he supposed to say to her?
Sorry, April
He was just as, if not more, fucked up as she was. And, to top
things off, with all occurring around him, the only thing that
came back to him was the memory of his grandmother. He visited
her in the hospital before she died. Six years old, dragged by
his oldest sister into a place he tried every which way to
escape.
His hands unconsciously shook at his side. It had been hours
since his last fix and his body was well aware of it. Withdrawal.
It was nasty stuff; friends went through it – he couldn't
last through the night without anything.
Shit. Everything was shit. He traced his own wrist and had a
sudden anger towards April. She could have told him – they
could have done it together, a pact. He'd have done it
right. He wouldn't have failed.
Where did that come from?
Visiting hours didn't start for fifteen minutes when they
got there. Collins went off for coffee and Mark watched him like
a parent watching a toddler. He purposely walked a few feet away,
his face buried in a pay phone. He wondered then if anyone had
called April's parents. He considered it briefly,
remembering the number from some far reach of his brain after
admittedly looking through April's purse for her stash. Odd
thing, the memory, remembering things he'd thought he never
even bother with.
The nurse came and got them. Mark begged off at the door, shoving
him in before he could even try to fight back.
And there she was, her brown eyes as shocked as his brain felt.
He didn't say a word; he simply gazed. She turned. He
stepped toward the bed, knowing that Mark was most likely outside
the door, waiting for him to dart out.
Roger, you don't- Her voice broke away. She was
pale.
He didn't know what to feel at that moment. Love, he thought
– happiness she hadn't succeeded, shitted for what
could and would lie ahead if either of them wanted a second
chance. Instead, he didn't feel much of anything.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulled her close to comfort
her. He didn't know what else to do. The passion, the spark
– nothing. His hands trembled, and he knew hers did the
same. She simply gazed into space.
He knew.
She knew.
Knew something had changed. What? It could be a million things.
For the better? Who knew. Was it huge?
Yes.
He simply stared at the wall and thought of nothing else but that
one moment.
There was no future.
