Shane (wlm)

You started using drugs a long time ago. The substances became increasingly difficult each time, as other substances no longer worked. Your partner became your outlet; they gave you love and support, and so you were motivated to quit.

When you'd been clean for a month, everything fell apart when you got home. Your boyfriend was panicking and trying to put his clothes on, trying to justify himself.

• You've got it all wrong! I'll explain everything!

You didn't scream or cry. You just felt the hole inside you, the one you'd previously filled with drugs, opening up again. As you left the apartment, you already knew where you were going. The old club where it all started. You always went back there when the going got tough.

Standing on your way to the bathroom, you deftly opened the packet of powder and spread it into a thin line. Your face sank to the dirty surface, greedily inhaling the white dust. Straightening up, you wiped your nose with sweeping movements. Turning toward the exit, you saw him. A tall man with an attentive, appraising gaze.

Not wanting to start a conversation with the dubious man, ironically enough, you didn't. As you passed, someone suddenly grabbed you by the elbow.

• I have something better than your powder.

You frowned, examining the man in front of you more closely. He was blond, dressed in expensive clothes, and it was clear at first glance—a drug dealer.