Not Good Enough For Truth In Cliche

Sitting In This Room, Playing Russian Roulette

I furiously banged on the door to the guys' apartment. "Monte, Monte!"
It was Max that answered. "What? You woke me up."
He was more civil to me after he saw Craig and I sort of getting along. "Is Monte here?"
"No."
"Fuck." I slid against the wall. "Max, you need to help me."
"Why?"
"Because Craig and I slept together and-"
"Hold up. You slept together? When?"
"Heroin night, couple weeks ago."
"Oh my God. Did he walk you home?"
"Do you remember any of it?"
"No, I was five lines deep!"
"And not dead, somehow." I grumbled.
"You fucked Craig Mabbitt? Haha, Ronnie's gonna be pissed-"
"We're not telling him. And that's not the full problem."
"Then what is?"
I stared at him. "I'm pregnant."
"You haven't snuck into the prison and let Ronnie have at you?"
"Stop mentioning Ronnie!" I put my head in my hands. "It's Craig's, he's the only guy I've slept with recently."
"And he's just a kid."
"He's only a year then me. Oh God, he's a year younger then me!" I wailed.
"He's got a kid at twenty-one years old." Max snickered.
"No, he doesn't."
"Why not? You're pregnant."
"I need your help getting an abortion, Max."
He stared down at me. "Seriously?"
"We can't tell Craig. Please."
He took my hand, understanding the seriousness of the situation. "I'll help you. Come on, inside."
"No, the guys-"
"We'll be quiet. I've got a number from another friend. I'll make you an appointment and go with you to it."
I held back my tears. "Thank you, Max."
"Of course, Ash." He offered his other hand.
I took it and he pulled me up. "Thank you."
"You don't have to keep apologizing. Come inside."