A/N The beginning of this chapter is going to be a little gross while RM goes through the detox process. If you read Stigmatic, I'll update it soon. I swear. Give me at least another week or so.
Sciamachy (n.) a battle against imaginary enemies; fighting your shadow.
I am so fucked. "Please, I'll suck your dick. I'll let you do whatever you want to me, just one-"
"No goddamn way."
"I fucking hate you! Who the fuck do you think you fucking are?!"
"The one with the drugs."
"Where are you fucking going? Answer me! Fuck you," I scream, chucking the water bottle at the closing door behind Negan.
He's gone for-fucking-ever, and when he comes back he's got that goofy look on his face. "The fuck, woman? You look like shit."
"I'm sober and I'm dying."
"It's only been six hours, RM. Get some sleep."
"You know you want it." I start fingering myself.
"Too bad for you I already blew my load. Have fun playing DJ."
Whatever. He'll let me go after a few hours. Okay. Play it cool, RM. Play it fucking cool.
"Stop it," Negan yells from under his pillows.
"Fuck you, dickhead." I've been scratching so hard for the last few hours, I've drawn blood, but there's no relief from this feeling. "Fuck! Please!"
"No! Now go the fuck to sleep."
When that doesn't work, I throw myself dramatically against the floor and start beating on the wall with my feet.
Now he's had enough. Good. It took a little longer than I thought, but what-the-Christ-ever. I gesture my arm up some so he can release me from the handcuffs.
He walks right past me with several pillows tucked under his arm.
"No," I beg, the door rendering my yells useless when it slams. Fuck!
I feel like I'm exorcising a fucking demon as I vomit all over his floor. "I told you I was fucking dying. I just coughed up my kidney!"
"You've got two. You're fine."
"You think this is funny? Fuck you! Do you have any idea the pain I'm fucking in right now?"
"I do not feel fucking sorry for you. No one forced you to put that goddamn needle in your arm or swallow those pills. Who fucking eats fentanyl patches? What the fuck is wrong with you!?"
I dry heave, throwing up once more. "Please," I whine, stretching out against the warm concrete.
"Knock this the fuck off. The doctor will be in here in a little bit."
I sift through my vomit to see if there are any pills that haven't been digested.
"What did I fucking tell you!?"
"Go fuck your-fucking-self, you fucking fuck!"
"Don't fucking turn me on right now!"
"Yeah? You wanna fuck me?" I scream until I've gone hoarse when he leaves me alone.
"I don't know who you are," I groan, pushing the man off me.
"How long have you been using for?"
"Get the fuck out of my face."
"You have track marks on your neck. Are you shooting up on your legs, too?"
"Don't touch my beauties! Negan!"
"Calm your tits, bitch. I'm right here."
"Get this pervert off me!"
"He's the doctor, RM. Chill the fuck out."
"I don't want him! I want you!"
Negan sighs, holding out his hand as the doctor gives him something. "I got it from here."
I narrow my eyes at the doctor until he's left. "The fuck, man? You let him touch my stockings!"
"It wasn't like he was taking them off to stick his finger up your ass or anything, but I'd be more than happy to examine your-" Negan grabs his crotch, lowering his head. "Go… ddam… mit, R… M."
"Looks like you're gonna need a prostate exam."
"I fucking deserved that, but fuck you!" He pours what the doctor gave him into a small cup.
"What the shit is this? It looks like alien semen."
"Methadone. Drink it."
I snarl my lip, then slam it back.
"Now get some sleep."
"Wait! Aren't you going to clean up this vomit?"
"Fuck no."
"Well," I whine. "Can I at least have a shower?"
"Sorry. You've lost all your privileges."
"This is inhumane! I gotta shit in a bucket and sleep in my own vomit?"
"Shoulda used the bucket to puke in."
"You're fucking hilarious. A goddamn comedian! How about I fling my bucket towards your bed, huh?"
"Fucking try it, RM, and it won't be just your vomit you sleep in. Now go the fuck to sleep, or I swear to fuck on floozy, I'm going to make shit real fucking miserable for you, bitch."
"Hey," I scream at Negan, stamping my foot. "I need that alien jizz stuff."
"Fuck you, RM. I'm sleeping."
"Well, fuck-a-doodle-doo, bitch, and wake the shit up!" Every fucking six hours it was like some new ache or bodily function issue. I've got dried snot all up and down my arms because now my goddamn nose won't stop running, and my asshole is raw because I can't stop shitting. I rub my hands together as he gets my medicine. The container slips right through my fingers. "What?! Gimmie!"
"Here's what's going to happen. You want this? You're going to work for it. Go dump your bucket, then you come back in here and clean up this vomit. If you do all that, I'll let you shower, but one fucking groan or if you even try and flee, back in your vomit you go."
Fuck! I hate not getting the last word in! I give him the most fake bullshit smile I can muster, then start my task. It takes fucking forever, and I get the feeling he's not the only one enjoying my misery.
Sherry has a smug grin across her face.
After everything is to Negan's liking, I get to brush my teeth.
"Sherry is going to stay in here with you while you shower."
"No goddamn way. I don't want her staring at my tits!"
"I thought you didn't have tits."
I open the bathroom door and start for his room.
"RM, get back here."
I cuff myself and have a seat on the floor.
"Really? Okay, your loss."
How is that my loss? Having someone watch you while you bathe? Sherry is probably itching for the moment she can get some alone time with me so she can strangle me for fucking Dwight. Speaking of itching, I'm about to rip my skin off.
"Are you crying?"
"What?" I snicker at his observation. "I don't fucking cry, dingus. Between this goddamn runny nose and my eyes watering, I'm about to pull my sinuses out."
"Look, it's only been a few days, but I promise you the first week is the hardest. After that, it's going to get easier."
"What do you know," I murmur.
"I know I don't trust you to shower by yourself, so if you want one it's going to have to be with one of the girls watching you. There's no goddamn telling what you have hidden in that bathroom. I'm still finding shit in the parlor."
"Let's go down the list. Sherry I know is waiting for the chance to jump me for fucking Dwight. Amber will drown me for threatening her dog. And your nympho wife would try to fuck me. My best bet is dumb and dumber only they're too stupid to keep watch, and probably let Sherry slip by."
"No one is going to hurt you. Though I wouldn't mind watching you fuck-"
"Stop. I don't find that shit funny. Just leave me alone. Please, Negan."
"Never thought I wouldn't like the sound of my own name."
I curl up in the fetal position on my blanket. After several attempts to get me to talk, Negan finally gets the message and leaves. If I sleep, I wake up from the nightmares. If I'm awake, I'm in a nightmare. I only thought I was in pain because the next two days are so goddamn miserable. There's nothing to silence these racing thoughts. What's the point of fucking living if you're sober? This sucks.
"No, stop," I beg, tugging the blanket.
"RM, it's me, what are you doing?"
I cough, moving the blanket back over me.
He snakes his hand inside my cocoon, touching my face. "Jesus Christ, you're burning up."
I know his first instinct is thinking I'm dope sick because he checks my arm. "Man, stop, I'm clean."
"You're a junkie, RM. Lying is what you know to get what you want."
"How am I ever supposed to have a future if you want to keep throwing the past in my face?" I start another coughing fit and roll over on my side. My fingers are so fucking cold. It's like he hears my inner thoughts. I rub my wrist when he undoes the handcuffs.
"Get up, RM."
"No, leave me alone." I thought he really left until he comes back several minutes later.
"Come on." He's practically dragging me.
Oh, a bath. I slither in the tub, clothes still on.
"I'll be back in a few minutes."
The cool water feels nice, even though I'm freezing my ass off. I strip down to my stockings. Much better. Negan pokes his head in every once in a while because he knows there are enough hidden drugs in here to get me fucked up, but I can't move. I don't wanna. I'm almost at this one week hump, and now I'm two steps back with this shit. Suppose I could wash my hair before the warden comes back. Even after I'm clean, I still stink. Gross. Have I always smelled like this?
"Are you almost don-"
"Dumpy, will you smell my hair?"
"The fuck for?"
"Please. Something isn't right."
"Smells fine."
"Are you sure?"
"RM, think about it. You're coming off all that shit. Things are going to be a little fucking out of whack for a while if you didn't do permanent damage to your nose or god knows what else."
I yank the plug from the tub as I watch the grime spin down the drain. Heh, a little dirt tornado like we used to get sometimes in the trailer park.
"Come on." Negan holds the towel out.
I slither out of the tub the same way I went in it. "Just leave me, man. Save yourself."
Negan loses this tough guy bullshit façade and starts to chuckle. He surprises me further by playing along with me like we're on some battlefield using the lounges as cover and jumping over tables.
His wives thought we had all lost our goddamn mind.
He grabs my chest with both hands. "I've got you!"
I tighten my grip on his balls. "Dumpy, we gotta amputate!"
Nympho wife shakes her head in disapproval. "What the fuck is wrong with you two?"
Negan flings his door shut, setting me on my pallet. He starts to cuff my hand, but moves his eyes to meet mine. "What the fuck was that?"
"I dunno. I had fun though."
He pokes one of my dimples and smirks. "Why don't you sleep with me tonight?"
"Further my suffering."
"Come on, bitch. I'm not asking you to suck on my churro."
"Yet."
"Heh, good point. Night, stinky."
"What? You said I didn't stink!"
"Relax, I'm just giving you shit. I'll be back later to check on you."
No, he won't, but that's okay. I've never had anyone take care of me before, so why start now? Okay, maybe that's a lie. Madsen always took care of me. Even when I didn't ask him to. For, whatever reason, he loved the fuck out of me. Whatever. None of that matters anymore.
Negan stretches out on my pallet.
I try to fake being asleep, but what does this motherfucker do?
He pinches my nostrils shut. "You ain't fucking asleep, bitch."
"Ugh," I slap his wrist away. "Hands off!"
"Do you know what today is?"
"No, but I know the faster I play along, the faster I'll get rid of you."
"Yeah, we'll see how nice you are to me once you see what I got."
Well, at least it ain't some bullshit lingerie if he's reaching into his pants pocket.
The metal clinks together. "Open your hand." He drops four coins in them.
"Sweet, Barbara!" I push myself up by my arm. "Holy dicks!" There's a penny, dime, quarter, and silver dollar, except they've been altered. The faces of historical figures have been replaced with skeleton heads.
"I know this ain't exactly how they do it, but I wanted to give you something for all your hard work. You can keep the penny, but I'm taking the others back. The penny is because you stayed sober a week. The dime is for a month. The quarter for six months, and the silver dollar for a year."
"Figures. The one I like the best would be the silver dollar." These are actually the coolest things I've ever seen in my life. "Thanks, dumpy."
"You're going to fucking beat this, okay?"
"Some days it doesn't feel like it."
"Just remember what you have to look forward to." He points to the silver dollar before taking them from my hands.
"When are you going to give me my things in my room back?"
"I haven't decided. You just focus on staying clean."
It's not like I really had much to my name to begin with. I stare at the skull penny. For as long as I can remember, I've always been a drug addict. Does he really think I can get clean? Is that even possible? You know, most people miss their pets or family. I'd sell my goddamn soul for a rail, a pill, anything.
"How about this? You can sit in the supply room while everyone spends their points."
"Why do you keep punishing me, man?! I didn't do anything to you!"
"RM, cut the fucking theatrics. They're getting old. I'm not going to beg you, so either come or don't."
"Heh. You said come."
He tries not to laugh, but the surly fuck can't keep his composure even for the sake of acting. "If you try anything, you're coming right back up here."
"Alright, my Lord."
"I'm already regretting this."
"Whatever, dick with ears. Damn, you used to be fun." I sit back down on the floor, folding my arms like a pouting child.
He sighs, plopping behind me. "Come on, bitch," he smirks against my neck. "Ugh. You need a shower."
"Maybe if you let me off my leash once in a while."
"Let me shower with you and I'll let you get some things from the supply room."
"No goddamn way. Keep that crescent roll in your pants."
"Tch. Fine, stinky. Three minutes."
"I can't even wash my ass in three minutes."
"Two minutes and fifty seconds. Then I'm putting this crescent roll in the oven." He thrusts his hips forward.
You'd be fucking surprised how fast I motherfucking showered.
I perk up out of my slump when Dwight is the first one to come into the supply room.
"I thought you cut out on us."
"I'm just working some things out."
Dwight takes my arm. "I knew you could get clean."
His fingers against my skin gives me goosebumps. I guess I never realized how much I miss him, but I know our time is over.
"I'm proud of you, RM."
"Thank you," I flush with a giggle.
"This ain't a petting zoo, Dwight. Get your shit and get the fuck out."
"Don't be fucking rude," I snap at Negan.
"What-the-fuck-ever."
"It's fine. I'm leaving." Dwight shoots Negan a glare before turning his attention back to me. "Here," he smiles, giving me the tabloid.
A gift thing!
He brushes his knuckles against my chin. "You can do this, RM."
I cling to the tabloid as I watch him walk from the supply closet. Don't leave! Don't leave me here alone with this gigantic thunderfuck!
"Pff, the tabloids?" His snickering furthers.
"I like the pictures of aliens, okay?"
"Please tell me you don't believe that shit."
"Right, because it's so fucking far-fetched. The dead are eating the living. We're one tabloid away from extinction."
At least it shut him up. For however long that may be. I sit on the other side of this trunk so neither of us have to look at each other. Maybe it's because of me, but he's being a real prick to the other men. My eyes widen when I hear the nympho wife's heels. She says something to him that I almost end up vomiting from. This gross bitch actually enjoys his meat log, and I get to hear alllllll a-fucking-bout it. Fucking sick. Even with my fingers in my ears and a ruptured eardrum, I can still hear both their filthy moans. Would you believe the fucker lasted like twenty goddamn minutes? Hell, maybe it wasn't that long, but it seemed like it. I'm fucking traumatized!
"Oh, shit," he chuckles, zipping up his pants when I get to my feet.
"Fucking seriously? That was disgusting! I need major restitution."
"Lucky for you, I'm in a great fucking mood, so have at it. Oh, and in case our fucking turned you on, I'd be willing to give it another go."
I don't even acknowledge this fool, and start surveying the room. I'm taking anything I damn well please for that emotional abuse. There's tons and tons of clothing that I sift through finding several winning pieces. Well, they'll need to be altered to fit me, but I don't mind. I kinda like doing that shit. "Is there a sewing kit someplace?"
"Sure, it's next to all the other shit I don't give a fuck about."
Whatever. I don't need his help anyway because I end up finding it.
"Wait. Let me see what you got."
"Fine. One bag of Cheetos puffs. One box of nitrile gloves. A pair of jeans that will be cut into shorts. Three shirts. A carton of smokes. And one sewing kit."
"I don't fucking think so." He yanks the smokes from my arms. "Trying to slip it by me?"
"This ain't right! I can't even earn points for the things I need because I'm your fucking prisoner!"
"You know where the fucking door is!"
"Fine, fuck you!" I shove the items to the floor and make my way to the gates. "Open this bitch up," I yell at the Savior guard. "Where's the outpost at with the heroin?" Fuck this bullshit, I quit. I tried, but sobriety ain't for me.
"Nine miles that way. Don't you have a weapon or something?"
I ignore his fucking concern, and start for paradise. Shit. The road is filled with those fuckers. They're slow to move but persistent. I didn't realize how out of shape I truly am. I can still see the smokestacks of Sanctuary in the distance and I'm about to go into cardiac arrest. "Whoa, man, fucking chill. I'm all bones, you don't wanna eat me." The dead keeps at me. Most people will do anything to survive. Not me. If it's my time, so be it, but I'm not causing harm to anyone or anything. I twist my ankle tripping over debris. Guess that time will come sooner than I thought. However, I see an old beat up car that I seek shelter. The dead are actually kind of smart. While they can't use the doors, their fists against the glass start to crack it. There's so many of them! The right passenger window breaks, so I crawl into the back seat. Two slither inside, both fighting for a piece of me. Fuck me, I always thought drugs would kill me, not the meat puppets. Even trying to push one off isn't helping. Their skin is soggy and my hands easily push into its flesh. "Madsen," I whimper as if he'll just manifest and save me. I shut my eyes tight as they close in on me.
The dead is yanked back so forceful, the lower half is still in the car. Lucille comes down hard on the poor soul. Negan yanks the other one, throwing it on the pavement.
I pull my knees to my chest to tuck my face away from the sight of the brutal slaying, but it doesn't stop the violent sounds of crushing bones. Please, make it stop! I flinch every time she claims another dead. I've lost count of her victims.
Negan reaches in and pulls the lower half of the dead out. "Come on."
"Go away! Go away!" I make an even smaller ball as if it's going to hide me.
"RM, I don't have time for this shit. The sound will attract more of those fucks."
"You killed them! Just like you killed those other Saviors. You're the monster, not them!"
"Fine, fuck you. I'm not going to stand here and take this shit!"
There's no way I can do this on my own. I might as well just stay here and await my fate. At least that way I won't die tired.
Negan climbs into the back seat, letting out an obvious sigh that he ain't happy.
"I thought you weren't going to stand here and take my shit?"
"I'm not standing, I'm sitting. How have you survived this long and never killed one of those things?"
"I don't know. I just don't harm things."
"What about Amber's dog? Hmm? She cried to me for an hour about you throwing it out the fucking window."
"Don't act like you haven't wanted to throw that yappy fuck out the window."
"I might have. Once or twice," he grins.
I do a double take at his pretty teeth before giving him a chuckle. "No, I wouldn't even hurt her mongrel."
"RM, you gotta kill or you'll end up one of these fucks."
My eyes sink at his words.
"Maybe I overreacted in the supply room."
"I'm traumatized, you know? She called you, ugh. I'm not even going to repeat it. It's so gross." Of course he got butthurt that I'm not into him. I'm able to get out of the car, but walking is a different story.
"Come on, let's go."
"I sprang my ankle, man. Quit rushing me."
He hoists me up, carrying me with one arm. Lucille in his other hand.
Well... I didn't expect that. Nor do I expect him to show mercy on the next undead as it shuffles towards Negan.
He nudges it with Lucille as it topples over.
My eyes light up.
He laughs until my lips touch his cheek. "Uh..."
"Thank you, dumpy."
The Savior leader clears his throat as his cheeks redden a bit. It's brief, and goes away just as soon as it comes on. He won't admit he was embarrassed, and I guess I won't give him any shit for it. "You want the doctor to take a look at your foot?"
"No." I just want to go the fuck to sleep. In fact, that's all I ever want to do. I hate being sober. I'm fucking miserable. I'm never miserable! That just ain't who I am.
Negan sets me down on my pallet.
I move my hand out so he can handcuff me, and notice the things I picked from the supply room in a pile. Including the carton of smokes.
"Don't fucking throw these last few weeks away to get at me, RM. You're cheating yourself. And you've worked too goddamn hard."
"I don't know if I can do this."
"One day at a time."
I cock my head a bit. "Was Lucille an addict? Is that why you haven't given up on me?"
His eyes lock with mine.
"It's just, well, you seem to know a lot about this kinda stuff-"
"Goodnight."
"You can talk to me-"
"I said good-fucking-night!"
"Okay, sorry."
Negan doesn't come home that night.
I guess he slept with one of the girls. Nor do I see him the following day. At least I've got some Cheetos to snack on, and the tabloid to look at. Jesus, I wish I'd get abducted.
I keep looking at this carton of cigarettes. Now, I don't know if dingus realized this when he gave me the damn smokes or if he did it on purpose, but I don't have a lighter.
"You wear the dumbest shirts I've ever fucking seen."
I haven't seen this dumpy bitch in two days and that's all he has to say? Fucker. I look down to see what one I've thrown on. It's a skeleton wearing some neon sunglasses. "What? This one is fucking awesome. You're drinking hatorade, man."
"It's fucking stupid."
"Whatever, enjoy your plain white shirt, you basic bitch."
He grunts, forcing his jacket off and slamming it against the floor as if it will break.
The fuck was that about? My eyes widen. His keys are in that fucking jacket! By some fucking divine miracle, I'm able to drag the jacket to me after he throws his tantrum and walks out. Oh, damn. I open this huge fucking thing up so I can get a good look. Did he get shot? Or stabbed? I run my fingers over the tears. There's blood still on the leather. His jacket to him is kinda how my stockings are to me. I mean, it's not just a jacket to him. He loves the fucking thing. About the only other thing he loves more is pussy. I wonder if it was a gift thing from that Lucille chick? Well… guess I ain't got nothing but time.
I hold the jacket up, proudly inspecting my work. Hell yeah. This bitch looks brand new! Okay, not really, but it's better than the target practice it looked like before.
His door is flung open so forceful, it almost comes off the fucking hinges. "Where's my fucking jacket?!"
"It's right-"
He doesn't even let me finish before he rips it from my hands and feels for the keys, making sure his handcuff one is still on there. Negan checks the handcuffs to make sure I'm still secured.
I slap him across the face.
"What the fuck was that for?!"
"You fucking prick! I stayed up all night sewing that goddamn jacket for you."
He takes a second look at it. "I'm-"
"Go fuck your-fucking-self." I'm done with this bullshit. I reach into my pocket and chuck that coin at him. He better fucking hope that I never get a chance to get those keys again.
"RM-"
"Leave me alone!"
By not talking to him, I've guilt tripped him into letting me off my leash. While he's preoccupied with that inventory list, I drop my shirt to the floor and ease myself on his lap. That's right, motherfucker.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"You still wanna fuck me?" I lick up his index finger as he watches. "Maybe even a little sixty-nine?"
He sets his inventory list to the side, bringing his eyes slowly back to mine.
"Whatever you want," my honeyed voice whispers.
He runs his fingers along my neck.
Come on, you weak fuck, I want those keys. "Anything."
"Anything?"
I unbutton his pants, unzipping them nice and slow. "Fuck me, Negan. I want your thick-"
His fingers tighten around my throat, and I'm quickly taken to the floor. "You think I don't know what you're doing? If you ever try to fucking come on to me again, I will put you outside these gates, you filthy fuck!"
"Fuck you, you limp dick motherfucker!" I'm drug back over to my spot on the floor as the cold metal slings around my wrist. "No," I scream. "You can't do this!" I manage to kick him in the face and break his nose.
"Goddammit!" It brings him to his knees on the floor.
I swipe his keys, quickly undoing the cuffs. I'm able to get away and hide in a small part of the stairwell as he comes barreling down right past me. I have one shot at this and bolt for the infirmary. With Negan's keys, I'm able to open the medicine cabinet, and holy fuck me! The quickest way I know to get fucked up is fentanyl, and shove the patches in my mouth. It doesn't take long for Negan to find me. His strength is like ten men and my jaw is pried open.
He's too late.
This shit hits me hard. It's enough to be my last hit, and the pain is indescribable. I thought for sure I was dead, but pull through, and open my eyes to dingus.
He's standing by the infirmary table, but his attention is out the window.
I'm covered in his jacket since I wasn't wearing a shirt. It's not the only thing I notice. His face is black and blue from where I've broken his nose.
He turns his attention to me. "Get your shit from my room, and get the fuck out."
"Okay," I murmur.
His wives give me looks like I'm the devil when I walk in.
"Stupid bitch."
"Shut the fuck up," Negan yells at her.
I don't really know why he'd stick up for me, but I feel even worse about what I've done.
Negan sits quietly on his couch, his face in his hands.
I set his jacket on his bed before packing my things. As I start for his door, I know that I owe him an apology, and even though he won't accept it, I want him to know. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, Negan." If I were capable of crying, this would be one of those times I believe.
He drops his hands, keeping his head lowered. "You think I give a fuck about my nose?"
"I do. I've never hurt anyone before, yet I hurt the one person that's only tried to help me."
"Get out of my fucking room!"
I inch closer to him and he startles me when he yells again. "I'm sorry!"
"I don't give a fuck about your apology."
I move my arms around his neck, tucking myself away against his chest.
"Let go of me."
"I fucked up, okay?"
"I won't tell you again."
"No," I whine when he tries to pry my hands from his neck. I latch onto him tighter. "Don't make me leave!"
"Let go!" He shoves me off with such force, I somersault backward.
I crawl back to him, sitting at his feet. "Please."
"RM!"
I slam my face against the concrete, breaking my nose.
"What the fuck?! You crazy bitch!"
Oh, Jesus Christ. It fucking hurts so bad. Blood gushes from my nose. I whimper in pain when he presses his bandana under my nose to stop it. "I'm sorry! I don't wanna go. I'm sorry, dumpy!"
He heaves a heavy sigh, lowering his head against mine. "I never thought I'd miss that stupid fucking name." His arms move around my waist as he pulls me closer.
I know that I'm fucking lucky because he should have kicked me out. This wasn't even the first time, either.
"You didn't have to break your goddamn nose. I woulda come after you before you left the parlor."
Now he fucking tells me because this really fucking hurts. "I know I don't deserve another chance."
"Honestly, I like having you around. You make me laugh."
"You laugh all the time."
"No. I don't."
"Why do you treat me so nice?"
"Because I know what it's like."
"To be treated like shit?"
He's silent a bit, before tightening his grip as if I'll leave. "To be an addict."