A/n: So, it's about four in the morning, so I will probably re-write this chapter anyways, but I have to write something.

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This chapter rated PG-13 for language.

Where Is My Life Going? – Chapter Four

My dreams are filled with accusations, shouts...For someone who longs for a community of his own, who's with his camera alone? You trying to sympathize with us, trying to tell us to not deny our emotions, telling us to just 'talk to the camera', that's just you hiding even more! YOU'RE NO DIFFERENT! YOU'RE STILL THE FUCKING FILMMAKER, STUCK WITH US! IT'S POOR 'MARK!' 'POOR MARK!' 'POOR MARK...'

"NO!" I sit up straight suddenly, drenched in a cold sweat. I can suddenly hear a soft voice echoing in my head...Just hold on... "HOW!"

"Mark!" Collins literally falls through the door of his bedroom, stumbling over to me, groggy. "What the hell?"

I'm staring straight forward, too frightened. The shouts are still ringing in my ears, and the soft voice trying to calm me isn't doing anything. Just hold on. "How?" I whimper, helpless, confused, hiding my face in my hands like a wounded child. "How...?" I am weak, without hope. Trapped, in this hell I have created, where I cannot fix it...

"How what?" I feel a strong hand on my shoulder, and it only makes me shake even harder. "Mark, what is it?"

I shake my head, my face still buried in my hands. They won't understand, because I'm such an idiot...Oh, God, I can never change...I'll always go back to being the same filmmaker, self-absorbed in my own demented way that has created a hell for me and those around me...

"Mark, you can tell me...Don't shut me out, Mark." I cannot respond. Why try opening up again? All that will happen is a brief moment of happiness, and then falling once again, back into this state. "Mark, come on. Was it a bad dream?"

I'm still shaking uncontrollably, suppressing the tears that are threatening to spill out. "My life...my shitty life..."

"Mark, if your life is shitty, that's bad news for the rest of us." Collins gives a short laugh, but I cannot bring myself to laugh back. "Mark, if you don't tell me, I'll take a guess myself." I remain silent. "Guess it's a guessing game then. OK...Roger said something stupid that he didn't mean, and you're taking it too hard, just like you did...well, a few months ago." I remain silent still, and Collins gave a sigh. "I could tell you were taking it hard, Mark. You didn't have to tell me. Just the way you were acting right before I left you, getting ready for that meeting with that Buzzline chick. But you turned around, remember? You quit the job and everything. And you're turning around still..."

"No, I'm not." I blurt out the words before I can stop myself. Stunned that I have let it out, I bury my face further in my hands, almost curling my spine slightly as if to protect myself from an invisible force.

There is a long silence. "Ok, there's something that happened I don't know about, right? Something happened that made Roger be all stupid like he always does. Something happened." I'm breathing heavily now, trying to calm down. "Okay, you won't tell me that, and I am not leaving you here to go and find out. So you get to come with me to the loft."

I spring up immediately, as Collins jumps out of my way in surprise. I begin backing away from him almost as fast as I can. "I'm not going back there. I can't stay..."

"Mark, why can't you stay?" Collins was getting desperate now. "Please, Mark, tell me. If you don't think you're turning around, here's your chance. Just tell me...just tell me what's going on...I want to help, Mark. All of us always have. And I thought, for about the past week, that we have."

"EXACTLY." I'm shaking so hard I'm amazed I can still stand. "I thought so too, Collins. I thought I was leaving it behind, I thought I understood now. But now I realize...I'm just a spineless coward, I can't do it...it's too hard to change...too hard to let all these things in so suddenly..." I fall to my knees. "I've always hid...but I don't want to...but I can't! And I'll-I'll never be able to change myself..."

"A little melodramatics never hurts, Mark."

I look up, eyes wide, not believing what I had just heard. Collins turns around, looking at the front door of the hotel room, where a voice had come from behind it. I panic almost immediately, muttering under my breath. "Oh, shit, don't let him in, Collins, no, not now...shit, shit..." I stand up, backing away from the door, as if the person behind it was going to break in and stab me with a knife if I let them in.

Suddenly, Collins has grabbed me by the arm, holding me in place. "Mark, you will calm down."

I was shaking my head furiously. "Don't let that idiot in...I hate him...I hate him..."

"Didn't realize I had that big of an impact on you, Mark."

I turn my head to glare at the door. "SHUT UP! I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU! EVER AGAIN!"

There is a long pause. Finally, Collins takes a deep breath, leading me over to the couch. "Mark, sit down." I won't. I know what he wants to do. He wants to let him in, and let him attack me even more, leave me in a worse shell than I already am in... "SIT." Using both hands on both of my shoulders, Collins literally shoves me down into the couch, forcing me to sit as I continued to shake, massive tremors making my body get close to having a seizure. Collins finally releases me, going to the door. "We're figuring out what happened." He sets his hand on the doorknob, turning it and opening, revealing the last thing I want to see.

Roger is looking at me with cold eyes when I first see him beyond the door. The two of us simply look at each other for a moment, Roger's eyes cold, while I am shaking, wanting to jump up and punch him once or twice in the face. I hate him...I hate him...

"No need to look so friendly, Mark." Roger said my name every time with a horrible emphasis, as if he was spitting venom. He had come to do it all over again. The wounds are already open and bleeding, Roger! Don't cut them again when they haven't even healed...For a moment, I want to beg him so, beg him not to dig the wound that had formed in my heart even deeper...but my anger quickly takes over. Something must have happened for that moment, because Roger laughs lightly. "I hate it when you get that look, Mark. Make's me almost feel sorry for you. Almost."

"Roger, sit down." Collins is looking at both of us with stern looks, and I feel him almost tense, as if he's prepared to pin one of us to the ground in a moments notice if needed. Roger watches me a moment longer, and then nods, walking into the hotel room, pulling the chair situated in front of the desk by the door out a little bit and sitting on it, quite a few feet away from the couch, but still close enough that I could jump up pretty fast before Collins could stop me and get to him. I wouldn't be able to do much, but the image of attacking him keeps replaying in my head...

"OK, Roger, we get to start with you." Roger turns to look at Collins, but my eyes don't leave him for a moment. "I have a pretty strong hunch this started when you went back to the loft to grab the cake. Am I correct?" Roger gives another cold look in my direction, and then looks back at Collins, just barely nodding his head. "Finally, we've got a solid fact. Roger goes to the loft, something happens. Now, what happened?"

For the first part, Roger isn't even glancing at me. "Yeah, I got back to the loft to grab the cake, and I thought I would grab something out of my room before I headed back. And I saw a message on the answering machine." At this point he looks at me, eyes cold and, as I see now, filled with hate. "He got an interesting message, didn't you, Mark?" Once again, he seems to be spitting venom as he says my name. "Go ahead and tell Collins about a Ms. Nancy Moles from Peaks Studios..."

"Roger, please." Just as I am about to jump up and say something, Collins stands up instead, looking at Roger with a stern gaze. Roger gives me a horrible look, and then leans back slightly in his chair, indicating he's not going to talk anymore. Collins sighs, looking at me as he sits back down. "Mark, can you tell me what the message says?"

I close my eyes, burying my face in my hands once again, not responding immediately. Just as Collins is about to complain once again that I'm not saying anything, I speak. "Yeah, I got a message. I sent some footage of my documentary...to this company we got an ad for in the mail...and they wanted to hire me."

"He sold out to a film company in LA, Collins," Roger adds, looking at me again with still icy-cold eyes. I could almost feel his eyes glaring at me as I hid my face in my hands even more. "Sold his fucking soul. And you know what he said! He said it was easier to sell it than to hide it inside!" Roger stands up suddenly, as if the audacity of what I had said was overwhelming. "Do you buy that load of shit, Collins!"

"Roger, first, I don't think Mark has sold out until he has gone out to LA and signed a contract. Second, I think I'm catching what's going on."

"Fuck, Collins, I didn't come here to make up with the idiot!" Roger throws his arms in the air, and my arms are suddenly shaking. "I came to tell him the rest of his stuff is on its way."

I drop my arms, my hands clenching into fists as I glare up at him. "You can't kick me out of the loft! I freaking bought the space in the first place!"

"Who paid whatever rent we paid? Me!"

"Yeah, until you..."

"WHAT? Until I what!" Roger is glaring at me, as if daring me to say the forbidden words. "Go ahead! Say it!"

I stand up, my fists clenched at my sides. "UNTIL YOU FUCKING WENT ON WITHDRAWL!"

Roger takes a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself down, but I know it's doing the exact opposite. I realize that he's not moving, not prepared...and, without thinking, I let my fist fly for his face.

Unfortunately, I was wrong. His hand catches my wrist in midair, glaring at me. Using his free hand not holding my right one, he winds up, ready to let fly...

"STOP." The two of us are separated suddenly by a massive force in the form of Collins pulling us apart. I lunge at him, trying to hit him, anything to cause him pain, anything near what I feel, anything even remotely similar... "MARK, STOP." Collins shoves me quite roughly as I stumble backwards, falling onto the couch. Collins turns on Roger. "Roger, leave before you try to do something you'll regret."

Roger looks over Collins' shoulder at me, glaring with vivid loathing so strong I can almost feel it. He turns around, walking towards the door.

"HEY!" He freezes in the doorframe as I suddenly shout out. "Imagine Mimi was gone! Imagine your guitar, your stupid music, all that shit you can enjoy and love...it's gone. There's NOTHING in the world you can trust anymore, because all of it seems to stab you in the heart! Just try to imagine that! CAN YOU IMAGINE IT, ROGER!"

Roger spins around, and I am amazed to see tears falling down his face. "You motherfucker, I live like that every day." He turns around, storming out of the hotel room, slamming the door behind him.

I let out a furious scream, viciously punching the cushion of the couch. Suddenly I break down into sobs, throwing myself against the couch, sobbing. "You idiot, that's how I live..."

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A/n: Wow. It may be because it's now 6:15 in the morning, but that chapter actually doesn't look too bad. I'll have to re-read it. And I already have an idea for Chapter Five in my head, but I know I will never wake up if I don't go to sleep. XXXDDD