Mark sat in the loft, staring out the window. Roger stared into his coffee cup, trying to ignore the shaking in his hand.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

Mark looked up and shrugged. "Don't know. I mean, it's been three weeks and there's no improvement. She can't get any thinner…she can't."

"You really love her, don't you?"

Mark blinked back tears and nodded.

Roger went to the fridge and sighed. "We're out of…everything. I'm gonna go to the grocery store."

Mark nodded. Roger went to the jar they always kept money in and pulled out a handful of crumpled bills. He grabbed his coat and slipped quietly out of the loft.


Roger hated it. He hated the pangs of guilt each time he met with The Man. He hated that he had to see him often since the money only came in small amounts. He hated that he'd returned to this.

Still, Roger loved the release when the smack rushed through his veins. It made him forget everything. He could forget the HIV, forget that he was disappointing Mark, forget that he'd driven Maureen back to her old ways. None of that mattered.

It had been three weeks now. Three weeks since their confrontation with Maureen. Three weeks since he'd gone back to The Man. Mark was too worried about Maureen to notice anything or anyone else. Collins was back at school. Roger barely hid it from him. He got high after leaving the loft and didn't bother with making excuses when he came home. Mark never asked, so Roger just slipped into his room or out to the roof until his high had subsided enough to pass for normalcy.


He came home after the high had kicked in. As he slid open the door to the loft, he realized something was going on. The loft seemed quiet. Maybe Mark was just out filming. He grinned and stepped into the loft.

"Hey Mark."

"Where's the groceries?"

Shit. He'd forgotten. Mark stood in front of the refrigerator, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Where's the money?"

Roger's face went blank.

"Roger, don't even try. The fridge is full. What the hell did you do with the money?"

"It's…" Shit. Lie, Davis, lie. "It's, uh—"

Mark took a quick step towards him, staring at his eyes. "You son of a bitch."

"What?"

"Don't. Don't even—how the fuck could you do this?"

"Do what?"

"Don't play dumb, Roger. I can tell by looking at you that you're high."

"Leave me alone."

"No!"

"Damn it, Mark, leave me the fuck alone!"

"You swore you wouldn't do this shit anymore."

Roger ignored him, stalking towards the bedroom. Mark grabbed his arm.

"No! You're not walking away from this. What the hell is going on?"

"Thought you had it all figured out, Mark. I relapsed."

"Why? Why the hell…why now?"

"Why? Because I need to now."

"No you don't. Don't you get it, Roger? You don't need this!"

"Don't tell me what I need! I do need this!"

"Roger—"

Roger slapped him across the face. He took advantage of Mark's stunned reaction to stumble back out of the loft, grabbing the money jar as he did. On the stairs, he yanked out the bills and dropped the rest on the staircase.

Smack always magnified Roger's emotions, anger especially. His impulses took over and he strode down the street, seething with rage. His intent was to go to The Man. When Roger passed the grocery store, though, he got a better idea. He'd end all of this. For good. All the pain, all the bullshit. He'd end it all. Just like April.


Note: Okay, I know he's going back and forth a lot, but drug withdrawal isn't easy, especially without professional help. Aside from that, Benny (at least in the movie vers.) says "Roger, you're lookin' good for somebody coming off a year of withdrawals" and Collins says "Oh hi? After seven months"--which means Collins wasn't there for all of Roger's withdrawal. The next chapter will introduce Joanne to the story. We're nearing RENT-time so this story's drawing to a close (I think). Please review!