I have had the biggest issue with this chapter and I have no idea why. I've been working on it for at least two weeks now, and I finally decided I just need to finish it, post it here, and get it off my hands, haha. I'm not completely happy with it, but it's done now, and that's what matters!

Drake walked into the meeting and internally panicked as he saw chairs lined up in rows. It reminded him too much of school, and that made him want to flee as quickly as he possibly could. He was about to make a beeline for the door when Josh's harsh words entered his head. Daily, Josh saying, "you're a fucking moron" sat in the back of his mind plaguing him every so often. Drake then thought of Mindy and sighed, reluctantly walking in the room and sitting down in a chair, slumping down and avoiding eye contact. He was told he needed help, so he was getting it.

Drake looked around and wondered exactly why everyone else was there. He was sitting next to a woman with thick rimmed glasses and killer red heels. He guessed that she liked to use heroin on weekends and it eventually turned into something more. In front of him was a large man in a plaid shirt with a bushy beard. Drake decided that he was addicted to meth secretly, but the truth had recently come out. A kid no older than seventeen sat across the room with a hat pulled over his eyes and his hands shoved into his sweatshirt pocket. Drake knew the kid's parents had sent him; the kid wasn't there because he wanted to be. He looked like Drake felt. Other interesting characters slowly filed their way in as it got closer to the time the meeting started, and Drake sank lower and lower as he felt their glares burning his skin.

The meeting started when a dark haired man in his mid-thirties appeared at the front of the room with a smile so bright it made Drake squirm. "How is everyone today?" he asked, overly cheery. Scattered answers filled the room, and Drake rolled his eyes. He didn't belong there. He tuned out the man's rambles by thinking about how he just had to suffer though an hour of this shit without saying anything and he could go home, telling both Josh and Mindy that he took their advice and got help.

Drake snapped back into reality hearing the man say, "And you, sir! In the brown jacket! You're new! Hi! Introduce yourself! I'm Mark."

"Me?" Drake quipped, pointing at himself and looking desperately for another person wearing a brown jacket. All eyes were on him as he realized he was indeed the only one.

"Yes, you! Stand up and introduce yourself!" The smile on Mark's face was so fake it was almost alarming.

"Uh, oh, no, I'm…I'm good," Drake told him with a wave of his hand. "Thanks, though."

"We can't help you if we don't know anything about you!"

"I don't want help," he grumbled under his breath, standing up and brushing off his jeans nervously.

"What was that?"

"I said hi, I'm Drake Parker."

"Hi, Drake," the group said in eerie, dry unison that made his heart pound.

"What brings you here today?" Mark quizzed, fake smile never faltering.

Drake gulped, having no clue what to say. He didn't want to reveal too much, but he knew he couldn't get away with saying nothing. "My brother. Well, you know, he told me I should get help. And so did a girl I'd like to be with. So, I'm here."

Mark nodded knowingly, and Drake saw a few people around the room giving him sympathetic eyes. "Why would they tell you to come?" His voice was so calm that Drake wanted to punch him – anything to slap the stupid grin off his face.

"Because I get high every once in awhile."

"On what?"

"Coke."

A few people nodded, and Drake noticed the woman in front of him with deep blue eyes give him a knowing smile. "So, you're an addict, Drake?"

"No."

"We can't help you unless you admit you have a problem."

"Say you do or we'll be here all night," the woman with the killer heels offered as a helpful hint.

"Yeah, sure, I am, whatever," Drake replied, giving the woman a strange look before plopping back down into his chair.

The grin grew even larger, making Drake seethe; he despised fake people. He dealt with enough of them by being in the music industry for the few years he was. "Good. We can't wait to help you. Welcome, Drake."

He scowled, hoping that was the only time he'd have to talk during this meeting. He'd already revealed way more than he'd intended and not because he wanted to.

"Okay, let's share our stories this week. Who wants to start?" Mark's eyes darted toward the troubled looking teen in the corner. "Jimmy, do you have a story this week?"

Drake watched as Jimmy shifted uncomfortably, all eyes turning toward him. "Yeah, uh, it was a bad week." His voice was deeper than Drake expected. "I sold my little brother's bike to get money for heroin." Drake felt his eyes widen as the boy continued to talk. "Yeah, my friend found a new dealer, and I haven't had anything in awhile, I swear, guys, and he was there and he had good heroin, like, really, really good heroin, and I had no money and my brother's bike…and…and…and I told him it got stolen…and he…he…he…he was so upset, but, like, I couldn't help it, and I realized after I'd done it that it wasn't worth it, and yeah, and I feel horrible about all of it, and next week…I just want next week to be better." He sat down quickly, rubbing his palms together nervously.

"Thanks, Jimmy," Mark told him gently, mega watt smile remaining on his face.

Drake rubbed his brow lightly, trying to process the story he'd just heard from someone so young. He thanked god that he hadn't done anything like that when he was Jimmy's age or he'd be far worse off now. He had never done anything that awful in his life, actually, and he didn't think he could ever forgive himself if he did; he knew Josh would end up forgiving him, though it would cut him like a knife to do so. He didn't want to go to rehab, but the last thing he wanted was to end up like Jimmy. Drake was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't realized the man in front of him was now telling his story.

"I almost caved this week," the man was saying in a gruff southern accent. "I almost broke out the liquor when I was fightin' with the wife. It was a bad fight." He shook his head at the recollection, and Drake sat up a little straighter in his chair. "We used to fight all the time, but it's been alright since I stopped the drinkin'. I don't even 'member what we was fightin' 'bout, but I almost cracked the lock on that damn cabinet." He let out a hearty chuckle. "Sure as hell glad I didn't. Haven't had a drop in seven months and countin', and the wife and I barely fight anymore. Couldn't throw that all away over one fight and the urge for some bourbon." He sat down wearing a proud smile on his face.

"Thanks, George," Mark grinned, searching for his next "victim" to make spill their story from the week.

Drake sighed heavily, slowly feeling himself being scared into going to rehab. He didn't want to constantly fight with Josh and Mindy because of his drug use. He didn't want to end up like Jimmy who had gone so far out of control that help was more of a last resort; he wanted to be like George, smart enough to stop himself and not want to turn back. It took a second to notice that the woman sitting beside him was now standing up, explaining what her week had been like.

"My ex called," she said, fixing the strap on her dress nervously. "My ex was my dealer. I was only with him because he could easily get a hold of good drugs." She laughed and it sounded like sorrow. "I was stupid, but I got away. So, anyway, he called me, and I almost went back to him. I was with him for two years, and he was pretty abusive, but I could've gotten away earlier if I wanted to, and I didn't because he could get me whatever I wanted. He'd only do it if I stayed with him. He told me he'd just gotten some good stuff, and I was this close to going to his place." Her thumb and index finger were touching as she said "this close." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair; Drake couldn't help but wonder if she was nervous to tell this story. "I didn't go. I'm glad I didn't go. I almost did. I had my keys in my hand and was going toward the door when I realized it was stupid to throw everything away. It was my niece's birthday party yesterday." She smiled. "I got to be the cool aunt. If it had been a year ago, I wouldn't have been allowed to be there. I'm so happy I didn't go." She sat down quickly, smoothing her dress out as she did.

"Thanks, Angelica." Mark scanned the room.

Drake was completely lost in his thoughts; there was no way he wanted to be Jimmy. His eyes had been opened and he'd learned that you could escape addiction. It might not be an easy path, but it could be done. He just wanted to leave and run to talk to Josh, Mindy – someone.

Once the meeting finished, Drake slipped out as quickly as he could without saying a word. As he walked to his car, his head was flooded with thoughts; he didn't want to end up like Jimmy or George or Angelica who needed this group to get by, even if it was just to vent. He got behind the wheel and felt a tear run down his cheek. He needed help.