Embrace The Madness: Cataclysm

1. Ring

The only noises came from a man with a very nasty, chesty cough and the tapping from a pricey leather boot from the leg of a pretty girl with her arms crossed and head turned down. She had long, black hair with a blue extension in it. Truly a tragic sight, knowing why she was sitting there.
Patrick was sitting across from her, and his attention was quickly drawn to an annoying fly that was constantly hitting the lightbulb. His eyes tracked the pest for minutes, he slowly started to fade out of reality.

"Patrick," came a voice, "are you with us?"

He quickly snapped out of his trance, straightening himself and sitting up in his chair.

"Yeah," he replied, "yeah. I'm here."

The room began to materialise around him, the four blank, grey walls, the bright blue, humming lights and a cold concrete floor.

"It's happening again isn't it?" Asked the group therapist. He was a thin, old man wearing a neat brown suit, with his legs crossed and his hands on a clipboard in his lap.

"No, no, it's all good. I'm fine, really," he rubbed his eyes and let out a sigh, "I've just had a rough night."

"You've been having a lot of them lately," the old man looked at Patrick through his eyebrows, with an oddly judging look, "addiction often infects the mind."

Patrick was slightly stunned, he didn't know if he was confused, offended, or both.

"Oh no, well I'm not... I'm not like any of you people, I'm just... no offence." He shocked himself, realising what he'd just implied. "Look, I'm not an addict, alright, I've been clean for three weeks now," he looked around at the other people in the circle, most still looked miserable, but some commended Patrick for his achievement. "I just, you know... I have bad moments, and it just... helps."

The old man leaned slightly towards Patrick, keeping his cold gaze upon him. "Be that as it may," he said, "what you are doing is an illegal practice, no matter how much it helps."

Patrick looked down at his feet, speechless. His stomach started to ache from the shame that he was feeling. His palms started to sweat, and slowly but surely, his knees started to bounce.

A sudden noise came from the old man's pocket, he pulled out a phone that was omitting a harsh ringing noise.

"Ah," he exclaimed, "I see that our time has come to an end." He began to neaten some papers and clicked his pen, putting it in his front pocket.

As the group started to leave, Patrick was quick to grab his jacket and head out the door. Before being approached by someone from the group. He looked eerily similar to Patrick, he had short, brown hair, light stubble and brown eyes, except he was shorter and had a beard. He was a jovial-looking man who, with a smile on his face, said, "I commend you on your bravery, admitting and that."

"Oh, thanks," Patrick replied.

"Tell you what," the man said, "me and the boys are heading to the pub after this, you should tag along, I hear there's gonna be some fit birds there as well." He gave Patrick a promiscuous look.

Patrick was taken aback by the man's offer, he stumbled to get the words out properly.
"Uh I.. no I've got uh.. I've got places to be and uhm.. I've got a.. got a.. a girlfriend and... stuff." Patrick was getting red and a little nervous.