Ghost

You, a fucking drug addict, something that was ruining your life, but you kept going and going, with no desire to get better.
And there was Ghost, who was the only one who wanted to help you with it, since your family despised you for your vice, and once again, you got high. Which wasn't strange; Ghost saw you as a complete wreck, but he had no choice but to help you as always. He found you in an alley, lying there with heroin in your hand, something he didn't appreciate.
Ghost picked you up and took you to your apartment, placing you on your bed.
— Damn junkie... how many more times am I going to have to help you... —