Second chapter, but I hope you all reviewed the first one. This is why I hate double posting, but I'm doing it because I had no other choice.

Chapter 15: Lying, Just Laying Part 3

Waking up from this nightmare
How's your life?
What's it like there?
Is it all what you want it to be?
Does it hurt when you think about me?
And how broken my heart is

Take you away from that empty apartment
You stay, and forget where the heart is
Someday if ever you loved me you'd say, it's okay

-Empty Apartment, Yellowcard

Mark couldn't sleep.

He had only been there for six days…168 hours; 8,640 minutes; or 518,400 seconds. Figuring out those numbers had taken the better part of his session with the resident psychologist.

And how Mark loved those visits. He chuckled as he remembered his first day.

"How are you?" the psychiatrist had asked, showing Mark to his seat. His nametag said Dr. Alexander.

He was coming off his first night of withdrawal, how was he supposed to feel? "Peachy keen," he rasped out, his voice shaking.

Dr. Alexander scribbled something down on his clipboard and Mark could just imagine what it said: Patient shows sarcasm and pasty white complexion. "Mhmm. Your fluids have been collected for testing for STDs."

"That's nice to know."

"What do you imagine they'll find?"

Mark struggled to compose himself enough to answer. "Do I look psychic?"

The doctor sighed. "Okay, let's break this down. Have you shared any needles?"

"Once," Mark admitted. "But only once."

Dr. Alexander gave a slight nod before writing on his paper. "Better than most. And how long have you been on heroin?"

"7 months."

"And what is your sexual history? Can you give me the names and medical history of your previous partners?"

"Well, in eighth grade there was Nanette Himmelfarb," Mark began.

"Mr. Cohen, please answer the question seriously."

Mark let out a sigh. "They were all clean except…I don't know about the last couple," he mumbled.

"You didn't find out before you slept with them?" the doctor pressed on.

"Look, I don't even know their names, okay? The last two men I slept with…I picked them up off the street, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Did they do heroin with you?" the doctor asked, unmoved by Mark's confessions.

"No," he sighed again. "But one offered to give me heroin."

"Give?"

"Pay me with heroin," Mark amended.

"I see Mr. Cohen. And did you accept?"

Mark inhaled sharply. "I really don't see how that is any of your business-"

"He may've tampered with it, putting you at risk for a whole lot of different things."

"No," he said slowly. "I didn't take it. Are we done now?"

"Yes Mr. Cohen," he said, his voice flat and monotonous. "We're done."

That was the last time Mark spoke to his psychiatrist. Dr. Alexander kept on posing questions, but he refused to answer. He didn't want to talk about the guy who'd brought him to rehab, the philosopher with the funny name who'd called, the lesbian ex-girlfriend Dr. Alexander strangely knew about or the traitorous ex-roommate who was helping pay for the bills. He didn't want to talk about any of them, and that's all Dr. Alexander wanted to talk about, with the exception of sometimes mentioning Cindy or his parents.

But for all Mark cared, they could all drop dead.