Ring

The phone rang a fourth time, but I still didn't answer: I had made my stand and wasn't going to back off, not this time! Not after all I've been through to get here.

I had declared marshal law. Enforced a nightly curfew around all the phones and communication devices. I denied myself the privilege of choice- Serves me well, for having abused my power of choice, for having allowed myself to hurt, to tumble, to fall.

Fifth ring. Ring all you want! Answering the phone is illegal. It goes against the rules. It risks too much.

Ring... I look towards the sound. A mound of heroin lay on the table, with a wire sticking out of it and a ringer inside it calling my name, over and over. New rule: Looking in the general direction of the phone is not allowed! Just go about your business and...

Ring. Ring. Ring.

A hand extends, picks up. It is mine. A voice speaks across the wire:
"I knew you'd answer."
Lips move, utter. They are mine:
"You win"