Oliver

As a child, you were a cheerful child, but your parents didn't notice. They only noticed your mistakes, your shortcomings, and the things that drove you to depression and grief. You never understood whether your parents were to blame for you falling in with the worst crowd or not.

You started smoking, drinking, and using drugs—it helped you forget, to have fun. You were a wilted flower, seemingly invincible from this abyss of nothingness. But when Oliver showed up, you became friends, and he seemed to turn a blind eye to your bad habits.

Over time, you noticed how you began to get closer; it wasn’t the drug that brought you closer, it was nicotine that brought you closer.

First, communication, then courtship. He never liked your drug habit, but even he couldn't help you. You couldn't quit, even though your heart, your soul... everything but your desire screamed at you to stop. Oliver tormented himself with thoughts about how the drugs were more important to you than him, since you'd stopped paying attention to him lately.

He didn't want to start a scene, but he couldn't resist and came over to you. You were sitting in the kitchen, and next to you was a white powder that couldn't be mistaken for anything else. He grimaced, and before starting a conversation, he walked up to you and took the drug from you, saying:

"You said it was out of love, but you only want one thing from me. Right?" His voice visibly trembled; you knew it was only thanks to him that you got what you wanted. You saw the pain in his eyes; you wanted to object, but he said:

"Every time you say you love me, it's a lie, right?" With each word, his chest felt like it was tightening, but he didn't stop:

"You know I tolerated your habits, you drank yourself into oblivion, you smoked—all of that was nothing compared to your drug use, I'm tired of it... Honey, choose... Choose—me or the drugs." He said this, looking into your eyes, searching for something resembling love.