Pay the Price - 1. Pay the Price

The woman entered the gambling hall, giving the man at the entrance a smile. The man looked after her, a wicked smile on his lips. When the night was over, she would have lost a fortune, provided she had a fortune to lose, which the croupiers, all professionals, would find out about in a little while. The man at the entrance turned his head away and smiled at another passer-by. Another night, another game, once again the money was rolling in.

Brian Cole watched the scene from the corner of the street. He was leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette, his fifth in an hour. He was watching the hall. The man at the entrance must have long spotted him, but so far the man had not given him any sign of recognition. Brian, however, had no doubt that the man was watching him too and had already reported him to the manager of the gambling hall. They were waiting for him to enter the hall. They were waiting patiently, knowing that he would come in the end. They recognized an addict at first sight and they recognized those who were trying to fight their addiction. Brian knew that he would lose the fight and he was aware that they knew it too. He was not worth their attention and they would not waste time on him. He would come voluntarily in the end and then he would lose everything. Brian was a gambler. He would gamble all night, like in a frenzy, and he would not stop until he had lost his last cent. And then they would politely ask him to leave. They would ban him from heaven and shun him from paradise, for all their promises meant nothing to them. Once the pockets were empty and they had cashed up the money, they drastically changed their behaviour. Once all was lost, they did no longer offer a piece of the pie.

Brian shifted his position and shuffled his feet. He lit another cigarette with a trembling hand. He hated himself for who he was and for what had become of him.

One morning, after a long gambling night, he had looked in the mirror and had seen his face: white, wrinkled, and worn, bloodshot eyes with bags under them. He looked like a man who had aged prematurely. He looked sick, ill, and wasted. Brian had lost a big amount of money that night, but his mind was already looking for a way to get more. Brian had looked at the man in the mirror. His look was haunted and desperation showed in his eyes. Brian had a moment of realization. He was driven by his addiction and his addiction was a recipe for disaster. That very hour, Brian swore to overcome his addiction and become a better man. His resolve, however, meant nothing to him at the end of the week.

Brian set out on Saturday evening and ended up near the gambling hall. He watched the entrance for three hours until heavy rain made him go. He avoided looking in the mirror that day. A voice in the back of his head told him that it was not yet too late. The voice grew more urgent on the following day. It unnerved Brian and he stopped watching the gambling hall after only one hour that evening. However, he couldn’t sleep that night and was restless the following day. Brian phoned in sick and paced his apartment all day long. At night, he set out for the gambling hall. The voice in his head had become a barely audible whisper and finally Brian managed to block it out. On the following day, he did not even phone in sick. The thought had not occurred to him. Instead, Brian walked through the streets and only now and then stopped at a coffee shop to have a quick coffee before he walked on restlessly. He arrived at the gambling hall just when it opened its doors.

Brian had been watching the entrance for two hours. He had withdrawn money from the bank without even realizing what he was doing and his pockets were filled. Brian lit his sixth cigarette and narrowed his eyes. His look was focused on the entrance of the gambling hall. And then he straightened, his muscles tensed, and Brian set out for the hall. His addiction had seized him again and it had won him over, but Brian didn't care at all. He approached the gambling hall, upright, confident, his look focused on the man at the entrance. Brian was a man with a goal. He felt like an all time winner.

The man at the entrance gave Brian just the hint of a smile when he opened the door for him. Brian walked in and the man looked at his back, his smile wicked and scornful. Roll the dice, pay the price. Another night, once again the game was on, and the money was rolling in.