Chapter 2

Mark sat at home, his wife and son had already left to go food shopping. Sarah would normally drop off Jonathan at her sisters house. Mark hated the name Jonathan, he would exclusively call his Johnny and nothing else. Sarah hated the name Johnny even more than she hated Mark although she would not readily admit this. Sarah only stayed with Mark because of the child, she would do everything she could to stay away from him. Which was why she would go shopping all day Saturday when she knew he worked during week days. Their entire house was open plan, the sofas were leathery and uncomfortable. Mrs Underhills choice, not Marks at all. Before he moved in here he lived with his friend Mike in a small apartment, this was bliss for Mark. Falling in love with Sarah was the worst thing that happened to him.

He sat facing the television even though it wasn’t on. All he could see was his own reflection in the glass, he picked up a pencil and a sharpener. He slowly began to sharpen the pencil until it could pierce through someones skin as was his plan. He pricked it with his finger and the blood slowly started to seep out of it. Their was only a small amount of blood but Mark knew know that it was sharp enough, he straightened his left arm and with his right hand drove the pencil deep into his arm. The blood began to pour again, he pulled the pencil out of his arm and drove it back in again. Another hole in the arm. Then again and again. The blood began to pour now and would not stop. Mark stood, with the blood dripping down between his fingers he walked slowly toward his kitchen. He ran the cold water and put his arm underneath it, the water coming off the arm was a dark red. Almost black as it quickly scurried down the sink. He was their for a moment or two with pain evident on his face. He pulled his arm back from under the tap and grabbed a paper tile, slowly wiping away the clots of blood that had formed on the holes. Piercing his arm with a pencil instead of a needle made the wounds appear old and dirtied. The blackness around the hole looked like a scab unless you had a very keen eye or a uncovered view. Something that Mark would not allow anyone. His arm was dead and walked back to the sofa. He lay uncomfortably, staring at his reflection in the tele for a second or two. His face was impossibly pale, he was white as a sheet. When he blinked his face had returned to his normal rosy appearance, he wiped his face vigorously. Like he was trying to wipe something off, nothing did come off. He inspected his hands as he did often, nothing there. He lay again, this time with his eyes perfectly glued to the clock on the wall. One, forty five. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, the loss of blood also didn’t help with the fact he was hungry he was sure. He double checked the floor for blood from his arm, it was everywhere. He went back into the kitchen and grabbed as many cleaning supplies as he could. He began to violently scrub the floor, he got the blood from the floor quite quickly. He used a small amount of bleach to get the blood up, two much would take the colour from the carper but he knew the perfect amount to use. There was no smell in the house. He smelled his hand, no smell from them either. His meeting was at two thirty and he needed some food, he left now and drove to a fast food restaurant.

When he arrived in his car he was greeted by the usual decision, drive through or restaurant. Normally he would go inside but he didn’t have enough time to eat inside he was due at the meeting in thirty minuets. He drove up and was met by a teenage boy with acne and a bad smell flowing from his window in the shop. Mark was unsure if the smell was the food or the boy, he convinced himself that it was the boy and continued to order his food.
“Hello, welcome to The Big Kahuna burger how may I help you?”,
“Yeah can I get a double cheese burger, chips and a sprite please”, Mark said with his eyes scanning the menu board although he ordered the same thing every time.
“Hey, Mr Underhill isn’t it?”, said the boy while he passed over the food.
“Yeah”, said Mark eyeing up the boy.
“Paul?”, Mark said questioningly. As the boy passed over the food.
“Yeah, yeah. I got an A in your class remember”, Mark did not remember, it was a lucky guess that he remembered the boys name. Anything about the boy had escaped from Marks brain as soon as he had left. He had no interest in anything the boy had to say from the time he got the food but the boy continued to talk none the less. Mark said goodbye and drove away mid conversation as the boy stood shocked. He took a bite of his burger as he drove away, taking large sips on his sprite drink as he drove.

He arrived at the meeting at two, twenty-five. He still had the majority of his chips left and began to stuff them down him as he kept an eye on the clock. The building he often visited was large and dark, it was a bleak building but that was the point of it. His eyes moved from the clock and onto the people walking in and out of the building, he recognised every face. Beverly, a large black woman who was a sex addict and had admitted in ‘privacy’ that she had sex with seven black men at one time. Harry, a thin teenage boy who was harbouring psychotic tendencies although no one else knew that. Not even him, but it was very easy to spot if someone knew what they were looking for. Mark did, he knew the signs. As Mark watched the people entering he noticed one. A tall brunette women about his age maybe younger. The thing that struck him about her was that he didn’t recognise her. She was painfully thin, drug addict probably. Something Mark was happy about, he didn’t like strangers and looking down at his arm he saw that the holes looked old and reused. He finished his chips and left the car.

“Hello everyone, my name is Max and I’m a heroin addict”, said Max.
“Hello Max”, said the rest of the group, all very alertly and happy to listen to Max. Mark didn’t respond when Max spoke, he was sick Max. There were a dozen or so people in the circle, Mark being one of them and the blonde girl another. Everyone else in the group he knew, Max he knew all to well, he was always the first to speak and he would often speak for an hour on end. Mark didn’t have time for that, everyone knew about Max already. Max was widowed, his wife had died in a skiing accident a year or so ago. That was when Max began to take heroin again, almost the day after the funeral. He had his soon taken off him and his job taken off him. He was the garden variety drug addict, something that bored Mark to know end but something that Max decided to remind the entire group of nearly every week.
“I began to throw away some of her clothes this week, I don’t know if its too soon or not. I thought about giving them to charity but the thought of running into someone wearing her clothes made me feel sick. I couldn’t throw her wedding dress, or the long black coat she wear whenever it was cold. I have been sober for the past six months and it is getting harder and harder to resist it”, Max said, he began to sob when he finished. This was a good sign for Mark. Max couldn’t speak again if he was crying.
“Thank you for sharing Max”, said Jake, who ran the meetings.
“Now would anybody like to say anything to Max?”, Max left the room in a flood of tears now, he did this often. Although he came to these meetings he had no interest in talking about anyone’s problem but his own, he would storm out in tears so he wouldn’t have to listen to anyone else. Which suited Mark if he was being honest, as he didn’t like Max and given the opportunity would stamp on his head.
“Okay, anyway else want to speak?”, Jake added, as Max exited the room.
“Shouldn’t somebody follow him?”, Said the blonde woman, who had now practically announced to the group that she was new.
“No,no he does this sort of thing all the time, he would normally drive home or wait an hour and re-enter the group”, Jake explained, smiling over politely as he did. Jake had a plastic look to his face, his smile was plastic and fake. Even his eyes seemed to have glazed over, it was as if he was simply the body and the soul had left long ago.
“As you have already spoken why don’t you go next?”, Jake said, looking at the blonde women.
“Oh okay, do I have to do the whole hello everyone thing”, she asked in a joking manner, It seemed to wipe the face immediately from Jakes his face. His face became plain and emotionless, he looked very robotic now.
“Well no you don’t have to do anything, it is however seemed rude to not do this”, Jake said, his face remaining steely and inanimate.
“Well I wouldn’t want to be rude”, she said mockingly ,
“ Hello everyone, my name is Lyra and I am addicted to cocaine”, she said, with a welcoming smile until she realised that she had just told a room of strangers something that her parents didn’t know.
“Hello Lyra”, said everyone in unison, including Mark, who smiled when he spoke just as she had done.
“Now do I keep speaking?”, Lyra said to Jake, he nodded inexpressively.
“Well there isn’t really an interesting story to be honest, I was in love with an complete twat, he got me hooked on the stuff. I realised what type of person I had become and I ended things quickly, moved towns to here. And now I’m just looking for help”, the rest of the circle began to applaud, as was procedure. None of them were really interested in the girls story. None of them were particularly interested in the girl, who was plain looking, sickly thin and had rather an odd disposition of itching the back of her head whenever she spoke. None were interested except Mark. He didn’t find her attractive exactly, but she was interesting to look at and interesting to listen too. He was unsure what he was feeling at that exact moment. But he let his intrigue runaway with him.
“You have a scar on your arm, is that from your drug abuse?”, he said without being prompted to.
“Mark people don’t have to face questions on their first session. Lyra please don’t feel obliged to answer that”, Jake said in a sharp tone, he realised that his tone was considerably sharp and quickly averted to his plastic face. If Mark took the time out to think about Jake he would probably realise that he was an absolute psychopath, but he had no time to think about him now.
“No, no its okay I’ll answer the question”, she said with a warm smile, the sort of smile that his mother used to shoot at him when he was sad or lonely.
“It’s from my childhood actually, I couldn’t ride a bike and my father was teaching me how to ride. I got on, he pushed me a little bit and then did the old trick of letting me go thinking I’d ride perfectly. I hit a curb and flew through the air into a bush”, she said laughing as she spoke, the rest of the group laughed in unison with her, Mark just smiled and Lyra smiled back when she caught sight of him.
“So I think it is your turn Mark”, Jake said with his plastic smile from one ear to the other.
“No, no I’d rather just listen in this session if it’s all the same with you”, Mark said, inwardly collapsing at the thought of speaking in front of them all.
“Well you know the rules here Mark, you haven’t spoken for five sessions now”, he lifted his hand to mark and wiggled each fingers to emphasise the five.
“And you can not go six sessions without speaking Mark”, Jakes smile seemed to grow but Mark was unsure if that was actually happening or not.
“Okay, I’m Mark and I’m a heroin addict”, he rubbed his left arm as he spoke. Drawing attention to the marks on his arm but not keeping them in view for very long as he put his coat back on.
“I have been battling this for many years. It got worse when my mum got worse, I mean I was still only twenty or so then so I think I was just trying to get attention. My aunt Susan knew about it but she kept quiet and explained to me that she needed to worry about my mother. I realised then that I had to stop. So I did, but I have relapsed many times throughout my life”, Mark said very solemnly, his face was emotionless. It was almost impossible to tell that he was lying, he had absolutely no tells. If he was so inclined he would be an incredible poker player.

The entire circle spoke about their issues, no one really listening to the other person but hoping that they would listen frantically when it was their turn to talk. Mark pretended to listen as he felt Lyra’s eyes praying on him from time to time. He took the free coffee at the end of the session and left quickly, he had made a reasonably good impression on her and he didn’t want to ruin it now. Apart from the heroin addiction he supposedly had, he has a stand up guy in her mind. When in reality if he had a heroin addiction it would probably be better for his health then the activities he actually liked to partake in. But she didn’t know this. He left calmly but fast, not drawing attention to himself but leaving before she had a chance to look around for him.