Everybody Needs Somebody Sometimes (Johnny)

San Fernando Valley Rehab Center was a place where the men and women who needed help could get it. This included 25 year old Carter Lacroix. Since he had turned 21, his life had started on a downward spiral. This downward spiral included his addiction to alcohol. He knew he needed help but he didn't want help. When you went places for help, they only tend to call you names and look down on you. Why would anyone want that?

As he sat in the room where group counceling took place, his eyes glanced over many different men and women. However, only one caught his eye. He was a blonde man who couldn't be any older than Carter was but the way his face looked held the scars and lines of a man much older who had done much more thinking. He focused back on the doctor, not wanting to be caught staring.

Alex didn't want to be here. At all. He hated his life, and drugs were his only escape. But he'd been forced into here. The track marks on his arms proved his addiction to heroin. And the scars on his wrists showed his hatred of his life. He'd started drugs when he was 15, and now his life was pretty much crap. He sold his only prized possession, his guitar, for drugs. He hated himself for it. He had no desire for sex. Just drugs.

He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, clenching his trembling fists. His blond hair fell in his face as he listened the to the other addicts go around and introduce themselves. He sighed softly when it got to him.

"My name's Alex Gray. I'm 23, and I've been addicted to heroin since I was 15." He said quietly, his eyes staring emptily at the floor.

Carter listened to the young blonde say his name, which he quickly put down to memory. He was younger than him, though Carter certainly didn't think he would have been, and his drug of choice was heroin. Carter had never done drugs, the drink being enough to keep him happy. But he knew plenty of people who at one point had. And they usually didn't live very long.

When it got to be his turn, Carter looked up. "My name is Carter Lacroix, I'm 25 years old, and I'm an alcoholic." he knew it sounded cliche but it was true. He wasn't going to lie to these people.

Alex glanced up at the man, quickly remembering his name. Alocholic. Alcohol had never been enough to make him happy. Well he'd never really been happy. Last time he smiled was when he was a kid. Other than that, his life had been on a spiral going down. When the Doctor asked everyone why they did their poison, Alex mentally groaned. He hated talking about it.

"Do I have to?" He grumbled lazily.

Carter sat there, watching Alex. He wanted to know why. Why someone would want to voluntarily inject themselves with a needle every day, why they would do something to hurt themselves like that. He knew his reason for the alcohol. His reason for the alcohol was his family. He just wanted to see if it could be this other mans as well.

Alex sighed when the Doctor said he had to. "I uh... I was abused... as a kid." He murmured. "My parents hit me every goddamn day and I was just... scared. So I ran away at 15. I started shooting up to forget ht explain. At 18, I had a lover. I loved an dated him with everything i had. He hit me.. but I couldn't leave him. So I just.. started shooting up even more. He was killed in a drive by, and I was... I am alone. I just... wanted to kill myself. So uh, a friend of mine forced me in here. So here I am." He explained, not looking up from the floor.

Carter couldn't belive it. This man had been abused his entire life. He could have stopped one of them by breaking up with the guy but he just didn't. It was a sad story. A sad true story, Carter reminded himself. When the circle finally reached him, Carter sighed. "My dad left us, my sister and my mom and I, when I was 3. Mom kept trying to make ends meet but she just couldn't. She killed herself when I was 17. I took care of my sister until then, making sure she could have everything she wanted. But I took the back seat. I became so fuckin' depressed that I started drinking. I came here to get help..."

Alex looked at Carter. The man had been through a lot. And he didn't blame him fro wanting to drink the pain away. When the circle was let out, Alex wondered into the main room. He sat on the couch, sinking into i. He tucked his blond hair behind his ear and spotted a guitar across the room. Whether it was for decoration or not, he picked it up, lazed back int the couch and started to strum and sing softly.

Carter walked over to him, sitting down next to him. "Um...I heard what you had to say in the circle and I'm sorry..." he didn't know if this man wanted to just be left alone so he sat there, waiting for someone to either kick him out or the man to talk back.

Alex didn't look ups s he strummed the strings of the guitar quietly. "It's fine." He murmured. "I don't need sympathy." He said, glancing at Carter before glancing back at the strings of the instrument.

"I was just apologizing, I know what it's like to lead a shitty life," Carter replied, getting up. He obviously wasn't wanted here.

"You don't have to leave..." He whispered, his eyes still on the strings. He really didn't wanna be alone. He'd been alone all his life. Alex was certainly an acquired taste. He just hated sympathy.

Carter smiled and sat back down next to Alex, "I see you play guitar. So do I. What kind of music you play?"

Alex shrugged. "I like rock. Like grunge." He said, his fingers strumming an original tune he'd wrote himself. He liked to write songs. But he hadn't had the motivation lately.

Carter smiled, "I'm a country man myself, classic though not to big into modern stuff. Rocks good to though." he sat there listening to the song, smiling as he did so.

Alex simply nodded and began to sing a verse of the song he was playing.
"She has me like a pisces when I am weak...
I've been locked inside your heart shaped box for weeks...
I've been drawn into your magnet tar pit trap,
I wish I could Eat your cancer when you turn black...
Hey!
Wait!
I got a new complaint,
Forever in debt to your priceless advice..." He sang the original lyrics.

Carter smiled, "Wow...that's great. I wrote a song, once but....well...it's no where near as good as that..."

Alex looked at him, raised a brow. "This is one of few songs I wrote when I wasn't high." He sighed. "Why don't you play the song for me." He said quietly and handed the guitar to Carter.

Carter took the guitar, playing his song and trying to remember the words

Something 'bout lighting up a Marlboro red
And that nicotine rushing to my head
And the taste of Southern Comfort on my lips
Tells me I ain't ready to quit

There's something 'bout driving way too fast
Switching gears and hammerin' on the gas
And the fact that they ain't caught me yet
Tells me I ain't ready to quit

The corner of Alex's lips quirks up in a slight smile, a very rare smile. "That's good. A lot of my stuff... people don't' understand. So I just kinda sing to myself..." He murmured.

Carter shrugged, "I'd listen. I like your voice. It sounds different. I bet you could be a big time rock star if you wanted."

Alex sighed and shook his head. "Fame and money ain't gonna make me happy." He murmured, string the strings of the guitar absentmindedly.

"Neither are drugs," Carter shrugged. "True happiness isn't brought on my material things. That's one of the steps they teach you when getting better."

Alex chuckled bitterly. "Drugs don't make me happy either. They numb the pain. And that's all I need. I don't remember a time being happy." He whispered, his hair falling his his face.

"Well maybe you can make a time being happy," smiled Carter. "Wanna go down and grab dinner?"