Addicted- {Don't You Remember?}

Fight

(A/N): I really don't expect too many reads on this one, if anyone decides to read it (*insert sad violin playing here*) but for those who might, I'm warning you now that this chapter contains scenes of drug abuse, explicit vocabulary, and other hardcore stuff 

Anyways, well, enjoy. I started working on this about 6 months ago. 

"You're fired," The old man that sat at the big desk said to me.

I felt the air being sucked out of my body. But my smile never vanished, "You're joking,"

At first, I didn't believe it. I wouldn't believe it. I've been working here for about three years. Three. Fucking. Years. I knew everyone here as if every little detail about them was written on the back of my hand. Well, almost. Becky was always a bitch. But I knew everyone else well enough. But my boss just shook his head slowly and I had stopped grinning.

"Nicolas, you have a problem with substance abuse. You work for the suicide hotline. You know we don't tolerate this behavior, period. And I've warned you that if you don't stop taking those pills of yours that I'm going to have to fire you," He put a hand on his chest to where his heart would be, as if attempting to look sympathetic. It didn't work. "It hurts me that I have to do this to such a committed- "

"They are prescribed medication!" I yelled, slamming my fist into the desk, knocking over various stacks of papers. A few pens and pencils rolled off the desk. I felt my anger taking control of me and I knew once it was triggered, there wasn't a way to go back. But my boss barely batted an eye at my sudden movement. I took a deep breath and tried to settle down, I need to look professional. My boss leaned towards me, his face unreadable.

"We both know that that's a lie,"

I glared at the man before me, trying to gain control of myself. It was overwhelming. I felt like a ticking time bomb, "Look. I can stop whenever I want- "

"Why haven't you then?"

"I've been under a lot of stress lately,"

He shook his head, "That isn't an excuse, Nicolas Parks. There are people out there in need of someone right now. You are one of them. And you cannot help others in need unless you fix yourself. You need to go get help,"

I stood up, pressing the palms of my hands against his desk, "Fine," I stood up from my chair, which knocked over by the sudden force of my shaking body. I trudged towards the exit and gripped the door knob, ready to get out of this stupid building. But then he said something that made me stop on my tracks.

"I really do hope you get better,"

I turned my head towards him, hate in my eyes, "You're making a big mistake. You're never getting me back you know,"

He let out a long sigh, "Have a good night, Nicolas."

I slammed the door shut behind me as I paced into my former workroom with my ex co-workers. Some didn't notice my presence. But the ones that did looked at me, some with curiosity, others with concern. I turned to them.

"Fuck every single one of you!" I shouted to no one in particular, raising my arms. I stuck out the only fingers that mattered at that moment. My arms slapped down at my sides as I approached the elevator and started down. With this ball of flaming, hot rage I let out an exasperated cry and slammed my fists into the wall of the elevator.

Yeah. I was pissed.