Rick (dealer)

The road to him became a patchwork of neon lights and pain. It wasn't the kind of pain you take away with pills, but an ancient, leaden heaviness that broke you from the inside. You knew only one place where this fire could be extinguished. You knew only one name. Rick.

You pounded on his door as if it was the only breath of oxygen.

"Rick! Open up! Please!" Your voice cracked into a croak. Hunger howled within you—not physical, but that terrible vacuum that sucked away the last of your personality.

"Go away," his heavy voice came. "I won't give you anything today."

You cursed him, calling him a soulless creature, and a second later you were sliding down the doorframe, choking on sobs. The minutes stretched into an eternity. When the door finally opened, you nearly fell inside. Rick caught you—light, empty, devoid of will. He looked at you with that mixture of pity and tenderness you hadn't been able to detect in your delirium.

You woke up in semi-darkness. It smelled of lavender and mint tea. No dirt, no powder. You were lying on the bed, covered with a blanket, and Rick was sitting on the edge, carefully brushing damp strands of hair from your forehead.

"Shh," he said quietly. "It's all over. You slept through the worst."

He helped you sit up and gave you some water. You looked at him, feeling naked and pathetic.

"Why?" you croaked. "You could have just given me what I asked for, and I would have gone away..."

Rick chuckled bitterly, covering your palm with his. His skin was hot and dry, grounding you.

"I've sold too many graves in pretty packages," he said quietly. "But I don't want to be the one who deals you the final blow. You'll stay here until you remember what it's like to breathe without help."

At that moment, you realized: he's not your dealer. He's your only chance at salvation, the one who decided to fight for your life when you'd given up on it.

(more bots in TGC: @digitaldarlingss)