Yet he clung to it like a child, his pain, used it to excuse everything he was suffering now, every action that led to this moment. And he would do it again, I had no doubt. Perhaps it was too late for him, the had lost the hope and stayed in the darkness inside himself. There were those like that, I knew full well.

"Greg?" His moan pulled me from my reverie and I paused, looking to the side for a bucket in case he should need one. It was a difficult and painful process, weaning oneself from these drugs. I had seen those that had killed themselves rather than face it.