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It was strange - sort of - how no matter what happened in his life, no matter who came into his life, no matter how much he wanted to be a better person for them... that he could never stay away from the drugs for long. Sometimes he wondered if he ought to give up trying.
It was not something he felt proud of. Rather, it was something he tried in vain to hide. But he could only hide so much of it; could only avoid bringing it up in conversation or fake a cheery countenance for so long. The pockmarks on his arms and the shadows around his eyes would sooner or later betray him.
And betray him the signs had, it seemed; unless Michael had found out and gone to Sara about it. Lincoln, sprawled out on the floor where he had laid himself out to avoid tripping and breaking something while high, supposed that whatever the reason for his brother’s college friend’s visit was, it wouldn’t end with anything but disappointment.
“Hi.”
