Anders was crying, in the corner of the yard of the building.  He was
stuck here now, and he had fucked up.  He just had to start over.  He
would have to come clean to someone, somehow.  Nothing had worked.  He
had talked to his main supplier.  That fucker had gotten him in this
entire mess.  The plan was clean, simple.  Anders would sneak into
rehab for his problem, never admitting to anyone what it really was.
He had everything in order, everything had been lined up ready to go.
He would be completely able to leave at any time, that's how it
worked.  If anything started to go wrong, he could just get up and go.
No questions asked.  Two weeks ago he had made the move.  With his
supplier's help, everything had gone perfectly according to plan.  The
problem had been Anders himself.  Two weeks into rehab, he had
relapsed.  Everything they told him would help him hinged around
honesty, and there was no possible way he could tell anyone his true
story.  As he sobbed, a woman on the staff came up to him.  She said
she knew it was hard in here, but he could do it, she believed in him.
He couldn't possibly tell her what was going on.  He cried even


Six months ago, the plan had begun to take shape.  He would lie and
come clean as a drug addict, that was the first part.  Everything had
to hinge around that.  They don't let normal people into rehab.  He
went to his supplier, they weren't on first name basis, but the dude
knew him well enough to know Anders' problem.  He waved a disc in
front of Anders' face, assuring him it would work.  Didn't everything
always work?  Anders always worried, but everything did always work.
Anders worried a lot.  He had always worried too much, his whole life.
The dude was telling him not to worry.  They were professionals at
stuff like this, his supplier assured him.  He would need this disc,
of course, and it was gonna be worth it.  He would come out a new man.
His supplier built him up, and Anders was sold.  This was gonna work.

He used the disc exactly as it was designed, and he got into the
system.  He would have to play his cards very carefully.  Before long
he was well on his way, in outpatient treatment.  He was doing a good
job of it, hemming and hawing like he had a terrible drug problem.
This was gonna be a cakewalk.  Before long, people started suggesting
he go to rehab.  Score.  He played it cool, like a tragic Amy
Winehouse song.  He couldn't possibly go to rehab!  How long would it
take to get in, how long would he be in there?  Anders didn't have
much of a social life, so he played the act well.  It all fit


Being in the company of addicts was no problem for Anders.  He mingled
with them often for the line of work he was usually in.  Anders was a
hacker.  It wasn't exactly like people think it is.  Nothing ever was
though, was it?  The addicts weren't the problem.  Being caught
sneaking into rehab was almost unimaginable.  No one did that.  No one
would think to check a thing like that.  Anders would finally overcome
his problem, the same way any drug addict overcame their own.  Rehab
was the perfect plan.  Until he got there.

Anders had been sitting in the bathroom taking a dump when everything
started falling apart.  He had been sitting there and noticed another
odor, an odor he didn't recognize.  He could guess though.  Someone
was doing drugs in the stall next to him.  Two weeks into rehab, not a
worry in the world, everything going to plan, he was about to relapse.
It had stressed him out so much, he couldn't hold on any longer.
Everything they were telling him in here wouldn't work in his case.
The honesty.  He couldn't be honest about a damn thing!  How could he?
He had literally snuck into rehab.

A man on the staff banged open the bathroom door, screaming that it
smelled like someone had been smoking shit in there.  Anders' heart
pounded.  He wasn't caught, there was no way he ever would be.  People
wouldn't think to check a thing like what had actually happened.
There was no way in hell, but he was flipping out.  The staff member
kicked open the door to Anders' stall as he sat there.  He saw what
was going on and apologized.  Wrong stall, sorry.

Anders finished pooping, and got up to wash his hands.  On the outside
he knew he looked perfectly calm.  Inside he was going to pieces.
Anders washed his hands as best he could, and stopped at the door to
the bathroom.  He would have to touch the bathroom knob, then his
hands would be dirty again.  That's when Anders relapsed.


He was sobbing to the woman on the staff.  He said it couldn't work
for him.  There was no way any of this would work for him.  She said
that was common.  People always felt that way new to rehab.  He was
just coming down, she said.  He looked up at her, expecting her to see
it in his eyes.  That it was something more.  She didn't see it.  She
just saw an addict.  He looked down again, another tear rolling down
his cheek.  He decided to take a chance.  They said only honesty would
work.  He told her everything, the whole story.  Deep down inside, he
always worried too much.  He had snuck into rehab for his problem
biting his nails.