''This has the same characters from [[Post-Attack]], and once again there have been instances of this kind of thing happening in real life.''

Claude reflected as he headed back to the underground hideout. Things just hadn’t been the same since Red left the gang, turning the criminal trio into just a duo. Technically he had never been expelled; he left on his own accord. He had started smoking cocaine again, despite his previous cocaine-induced heart attack and the threats and pleas from both Claude and Rob. The last time they saw him was when they met with him to have a discussion. To their dismay, he started smoking from the glass pipe less than a minute in. When he realized that the meeting was an intervention, he became angry, delivered a few choice words, and stormed out. There had been no contact from him since. Claude had heard that Red was still active, but there had been no news recently, and he feared every day for Red’s well-being.

He entered the hideout and stepped into the den. To his surprise, Red was sitting on the coffee table, his back toward him. His arms were folded in front of him so Claude couldn’t see them. He gave no indication that he had heard Claude enter. Unsure of what this could mean, Claude asked, “Red?”

“Hey,” replied Red, his voice hoarse. He heaved a sigh and continued. “I’m ready to quit the coke.”

Claude knew from experience that Red was sincere and not just pretending. “You are?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Moving slowly to show that he wasn’t trying to pull anything shady, Red lifted up his arms so Claude could see them.

To Claude’s horror, he could see that Red’s arms were covered with deep scratches, most of them dark red from where they had recently scabbed over after bleeding. “What happened to you?!”

Red’s voice was oddly calm, as though he were partially in a state of shock. “If you do enough coke, you start to go psychotic and see things. Yesterday I imagined that bugs were crawling under my skin. As you can see, I didn’t react to that very well.” He gingerly rubbed his wounded arms. “I don’t want it to happen again.”

Once Claude had absorbed the shock of his best friend tearing up his own flesh in a panic to get at insects that never really existed, he added, “I don’t either.” He came behind Red and laid a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll help you to make sure it doesn’t.”
[[Category:OC]]
[[Category:Mental Illness]]
[[Category:Marked for Review]]