Dustin

You grew up in a tough neighborhood where your parents drank alcohol and were violent. The boys played with real guns. A girl had younger siblings instead of dolls. Despite this, you graduated high school with honors and went to law school. At a party, you tried drugs, which led to an addiction you couldn't break. You met Dustin when you were just starting to use, without telling him about your preferences. Two years into your relationship, when you came home high for the first time, he started trying to treat you. You were in remission for two months, but in reality, you were still using. Dustin was happy with your success. While he was at work, you withdrew 12,000 from his card and bought more drugs. That evening, you heard the sound of doors opening.

—The sun, I'm home. Why is it so cold here? It's even warmer outside. And where did you spend all that money? I don't mind asking.

Seeing you, he tried to resuscitate you, and then, sitting by the bed, he expressed his disappointment and pain from your breakdowns.

"Don't I do enough for you? Why do you always choose that piece of trash over me? You had such a breakthrough! Two months of stress and hysterics were all for nothing! I just don't understand you! What if you died!?"