Disclaimer: I own not a notion. I rent.
I seem to be on a roll today with this fic, so here's another chapter. I'm trying to get in as much writing as possible before my classes start, because there's a good chance I won't have much time for it ( Though I'll be doing my very best. Writing is cathartic for me).
Thanks go out to EloraCooper4 and Abby. Thanks so much for the positive feedback. I hope I'm doing the characters justice and "keepin it real".
Ten minutes passed before any form of sound was heard from Roger's room. Frantic sounds- things falling to the floor, drawers banging open and being slammed shut. Collins sighed. Roger was looking for his smack. From the sound of it, there wasn't any to find. Collins leaned his ear against the door and could hear Roger's heavy breathing. So much for calming down. Prepare yourself for a battle, Collins. A soft thump against the door caused Collins to jump back a little.
"Collins, man? Come on, let me out. I'm calm." Roger's voice was strained and there was another soft thump.
"You don't sound too calm. And I'm not letting you out. All you're going to do is buy more smack. You can forget that boy. Hope you enjoyed your last hit, because it was just that, your last. You're getting clean." Collins breathed deeply awaiting the screaming and yelling and verbal abuse that was about to burst forth from Roger's mouth. All day long his mind had gone round and round about what to do with Roger. There was only one solution and it was going to be the hardest thing that Roger, Mark and he would ever do. There would be long days and hard nights. But hey, we're used to tough. Bohemia is very tough and unforgiving. We should be pros by now.
Silence existed-for about four seconds. Roger's fists pounded into the door, "Let me out now! Let me the fuck out of here! You can't keep me as a prisoner! You can't do that! And I'll do whatever the hell I want to with my life! You don't get to make my decisions for me!"
Collins pushed his back harder into the door. There was no way that Roger was going to get out. Collins would hog-tie him if he had to, but Roger wasn't leaving the loft until he could be trusted to not head straight for The Man. "You can't make your own decisions right now Roger. Your body is addicted and it thinks it needs that shit. It doesn't."
"I need it Collins! I need it! I need it right now!" An extremely forceful kick to the door almost made Collins back away, fearful. But he held his ground.
"What's going on?" Mark stood in the doorway of his room. Collins had ordered him to lie down after Roger's violent display earlier.
"Oh, Roger's just throwing a fit because I won't let him go get high. He's pissed because I'm forcing him to get clean. Doesn't like it when I make his decisions for him. Even though my decision lets him live, and his will most likely kill him. Nothing special." Collins shrugged.
Mark just stood there. There wasn't anything that he could say. He wanted Roger clean. He also wanted to live. Collins was strong, but Roger became very powerful when something stood in the way of something he wanted. And Mark could not take Roger when he was like that. Despite being skinny and shorter than Roger, Mark held his own pretty well. Not when Roger was desperate.
The phone ringing interrupted the silence outside Roger's door, even though the swearing and shouting continued on the other side.
"SPEEEEAAAAK!"
"Hey guys. It's Benny. I'm not going to make it home tonight. Just thought I'd let you know so you weren't wondering. Alison and I are…well…never mind. So stop worrying Mark. Hope Davis is home, safe and sound. I'll see you…whenever I see you. Later."
Collins and Mark glanced at each other. Neither one had even given Benny a second thought since Mark had gotten back to the loft.
"Why don't you go back to bed? I got this." Collins nodded toward the door.
"I can't just leave you here. We'll take turns during the night."
"No, you need to rest. I'm not the one who got my ass kicked tonight. I can handle this."
"If you're sure…"
"Yeah, go ahead. Good night."
"Alright. Night, Collins. If you need anything or…well, if you need anything, wake me up." Mark headed back into his room and gingerly collapsed on the bed. His stomach was sore and he couldn't really see out of his right eye. Thank God that punch hadn't broken his glasses. Mark didn't know what would have happened if that were the case. He couldn't afford milk, how was he going to afford a new pair of glasses?
He could hear Roger's pleas to Collins. How could heroin mean more than anything else? The fact that Roger, his best friend, beat the crap out of him hadn't escaped his mind. He was dumbstruck by the very thought. The funny thing is I'm not mad at him. I know that it wasn't him, it was the smack. I should be mad at him though. I wish I could be mad at him. I want so badly to be angry with him. Why am I so calm about this? I was mad at him, I was. I yelled, I remember that. Why am I suddenly okay with the fact that he punched me? I should be pissed as hell. But I'm not. I'm worried. Maybe that's my default- Worried. Maybe when I don't understand what to feel I feel worried. But I am worried. He's got to stop. It's going to kill him. It's going to take him away from us. Mark's thoughts swirled endlessly until a fitful sleep overcame him and he could no longer hear Roger's tirade.
