Anti tied an elastic band around his arm, sticking the needle into the exposed skin and injecting himself with the liquid Heroin he'd been given just hours ago. It turns out; he wasn't as strong as he thought he was. He needed the wind-down time, and he needed to feel even if it was from something that could kill him.

Anti could feel his mouth become dry, heat building up inside of him as he exhaled, closing his eyes and leaning back against the toilet seat of the stall he was currently sitting in. He felt nauseous, trying to push down the acid bubbling in his throat.

If he moved from this spot, he knew he'd continue to travel for a few more hours until the Heroin officially tapped out, but the careless feeling he got from the drug made him move anyway.

Anti didn't understand how he got there, but the next moment he was vomiting all over the dance floor, holding his stomach with one hand. The music surrounded him; it almost seemed like it was playing inside his head, the bass making his vision blur and shift. Colors seemed more vibrant, dancing in his field of view.

In the blink of an eye, the location changed again, and he was shooting more Heroin into his bloodstream, a group of people surrounding him and urging him on. Anti's body was still warm, and he was beginning to feel heavy, his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Anti didn't know how long he'd been out or how long he'd been staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, but the Heroin had lost its effect after eight hours of constant vomiting, warmth, and a need for water. He glanced at the watch on his wrist, his breathing shallow.

10:37 AM.

He began to wonder why Sean hadn't checked on him by now, standing up and strolling out of his room, dark circles bitterly apparent on his face, his green eyes were dull, and the heat was no longer present.

Anti jolted every few steps he took, cold flashes making his entire body ache and shiver. He forgot what the low was for shooting up; it had been a long time. After a brief trip to the bathroom, he walked into the living room, noticing immediately that Sean's keys were gone.

Then, he remembered the text message he had neglected to read, reaching for the phone in his pocket and putting in his passcode three times before it finally opened. He clicked on the app previously installed into his phone, looking at his messages since last night.

Sean McFucklin
Have you seen Chase?? I can't find him.

Unknown
I know what you are.

Anti became curious at the last one, tapping on the Unknown person, opening up their text, and reading over it one more time before clicking on the video attached. He could see himself in the bathroom, clutching the sink, his eyes gleaming, and his sharp canines exposed.

The video ended after half a minute, and Anti stood there, staring down at his phone, heart racing. He found himself wondering how someone could've gotten into the bathroom without him noticing. He was drunk, not deaf.

•••

Three dots popped up at the bottom of the screen, indicating that the stranger was responding to Anti's silence.

What would happen if this were to get out, hm?

Anti read over the stranger's words quite a few times, concerned and confused, feeling way too tired to deal with this, and after a few more minutes of silence, two more texts appeared on his screen.

Let me know when you're ready to talk about this. XX

Oh, and before you think of going to the police, or your magical brother... Don't.

Anti's phone slipped through his fingers, and he stumbled back, catching himself on the wall. Someone was blackmailing him. No one had ever been brave enough even to look his way, and now...

His vision doubled, a bead of sweat running down his forehead, some dotting his top lip. Anti could feel a shiver run down his spine, unable to keep his eyes open. If Sean saw him like this, he'd know immediately what was happening.

"What have I done..." Anti mumbled, his voice low and filled with regret. It was bad enough that someone was trying to extort something from him, and now he had to deal with the effects of a Heroin withdrawal.

-

"What do you mean I can't sign him out?"

The woman at the front desk sighed, looking at Sean over her thick-rimmed glasses, her head lowered, pen in hand. "Just as I said, Sir. You can't sign him out. Doctor's orders."

Sean huffed. "And which doctor told you that I couldn't take my brother?"

"Dr..." She trailed off, grabbing a sheet of paper from her desk and looking over it. "Dr. Schneeplestein."

"You've got to be kidding."

"No, Sir. Chase Brody isn't due to be released in quite some time."

Sean backed away from the desk without another word, turning around and sitting at the seat near the window. He took out his phone, going straight to his contacts and dialing his brothers number, holding the phone to his ear in wait.

"Zhis is Dr. Schneeplestein?"

"Why the fuck do you have my brother in an institution, Henrik?"

There was a long pause, and then a sigh. "Do you remember zhe car accident two years ago?"

"What about it?" Sean asked.

"Chase tried to get a refill on zhe Vicodin he'd still been using after all zhis time. It could've killed him. I found zhe pill bottle in his pocket. Only two left."

Sean shifted uncomfortably in his chair, lowering his voice. "So you put him here? Did you really think that this place would help him?"

"It vas zhe only option. I can't... I can't keep letting an UnModified into my office, Sean. I vill lose mein—"

"Your job. I understand."

The line went quiet for a second, and Sean tightened his grip on the phone, his voice laced with venom. "Guess priorities change, huh? We'll talk later."

"Vait—"

Sean canceled the call, putting his phone away and standing up. He wished things would go back to normal. Simpler times, when modified and unmodified didn't exist. When segregation was a thing of the past. When families stuck together.