Chris' daughter was a good reason to quit the rode he was on…but never could he. He always went back to the horrible vice he called his. Trish always brightened his day. His beautiful wife made things easier to bare…for moments…seconds at a time…sometimes he'd feel as though he mist burn everything addicting to get it out of his system. Once, he asked Marissa to lock him to the bed. But she had smirked, taking it the wrong way and she had sighed back. She told him it was Ok…that they would get through…but as he looked out the rehab window and came back from the dream he was having….he realized where he was again…and that moment…he was destined to get out…to get better…the rode he was taking…ended now….the new lease…started now. For Trish…and Marissa. He looked at the nurse as she came in.
"this shot is a lower dosage…good job Mr. whitley." He smiled and nodded. Progress…sweet…sweet, progress.
