Page 103 of Micah
“Damn. So, Patrick's going tonight.”
“That’s right. I’ll tell Sloane after her shower.”
“I see. And he'll stay there until he's clean?”
“He doesn't have a choice.”
Sawyer is quiet.
“What is it? Addiction?”
“Meth.”
I close my eyes.
“And gambling.”
Patrick's confession replays in my head.
Broken.
Ashamed.
Scared.
Most addicts don’t realize they’re not only hurting themselves until every relationship they have has already suffered.
“I didn't mean for it to get this bad.”
Nobody ever does.
“I borrowed a little at first,” Patrick had admitted, blood still dripping from his split lip. “Then I lost. Thought I could win it back. Then I borrowed more.”
Classic.
Every damn story starts exactly the same.
“How much?” I'd asked.
He laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it wasn't.
“Everything.”
He'd mortgaged his future.
Then Sloane's.
“He blew through her money,” I tell Sawyer quietly. “Ruined her credit.”
“Jesus.”
“The insurance money after their dad died.”
“Christ.”
