As he neared the apartment he noticed a group of guys standing near the entrance. They seemed to be talking, but what if it was about him? What if they had seen him and were waiting for him to come back so they could... could what? He didn't know, but he didn't want to find out. Why wouldn't they be after him? Groaning, he stopped, fucking between two buildings and dropping to the ground. His hands were uncontrollable as they shook, he could do little other than tuck them under his legs and wait for the sickness in his stomach to pass.

Roland knew he was being paranoid, he could remember getting this way often enough when he couldn't get the pills he needed, or the drink he craved, yet no matter how he tried to rationalize it, he was sure they were out for him. Hurried steps on sidewalk were suddenly someone coming to hurt him, so he panicked and scooted further into the alleyway, his hands scrapping on the stones and debris.

He was supposed to stop, to rid himself of the drugs, but he needed one, wanted to feel normal for just a short time. If he could just get home, get one, then all would be well and tomorrow he would be able to stop. His mind raced and it took him quite a long time to work up the courage to stand and inch his way from the alley. The guys were still there, he would have to get around them. In a fast walk he headed for the door.

"Hey!" A voice called to him, it sounded angry to his paranoid mind and his plan to go home was ruined. Instead he took off... despite the fact that he knew nothing about this city.