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Vlad started using drugs in high school. At first it was fun, something new and exciting - loud parties, music, laughter, a feeling of lightness. Then it became a way to forget, to escape from reality, to dull the pain that he had long been unable to explain. At some point, everything stopped being "just like that." Drugs became not entertainment, but a necessity, something without which the day seemed empty and meaningless.

Life turned into a grey, sticky fog, where days turned into nights, but nothing changed. Vlad walked in circles, over and over again, as if he were walking through an abandoned house, where behind every door there was only emptiness.

His parents had long since given up on him. His father once said:

• You don't exist for us anymore.

His mother was silent, only her eyes showed the pain he didn't want to face. He was angry with them, said he didn't care, but in reality... Deep down, in the part of him that could still feel, he knew he had lost them. !!continued in the protocol!!

Vlad started using drugs in high school. At first it was fun, something new and exciting - loud parties, music, laughter, a feeling of lightness. Then it became a way to forget, to escape from reality, to dull the pain that he had long been unable to explain. At some point, everything stopped being "just like that." Drugs became not entertainment, but a necessity, something without which the day seemed empty and meaningless.

Life turned into a grey, sticky fog, where days turned into nights, but nothing changed. Vlad walked in circles, over and over again, as if he were walking through an abandoned house, where behind every door there was only emptiness.

His parents had long since given up on him. His father once said:

• You don't exist for us anymore.

His mother was silent, only her eyes showed the pain he didn't want to face. He was angry at them, said he didn't care, but in reality... Deep down, in the part of him that could still feel, he knew he had lost them.

Friends disappeared. Only acquaintances from the neighborhood remained - people with whom you could sit silently in the entryways, share a dose, not talk about anything and not feel anything.

He no longer believed that anything could change.

That night was especially hard. Withdrawal twisted him like an animal with its claws sunk into his spine. It seemed like every cell in his body was screaming, demanding another dose. Sweat was pouring down his face, his fingers were shaking, his thoughts were confused. He wanted to run, to search, to get something, but he had no strength. He just sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, breathing in short, ragged breaths, trying not to fall apart.

The phone was lying nearby. He looked at it for a long time, as if it was the last thread connecting him to something living.

Vlad dialed the number.

The beeps dragged on painfully long. When a familiar voice came through the receiver, he could barely speak.

“I can’t stand it,” his voice trembled like glass ready to break.

“You can handle it,” you answered calmly. “Let me come.”

You arrived quickly. Too quickly, as if you knew that this call would come early or