AddictIt was his addiction that was killing me. How that works I guess I'll never understand. With every pill that he pops I can feel another guilty pang in my chest. It's as though his addiction is all my fault. I wasn't there to catch him in time, I wasn't there to be his fall back crutch, like he'd been mine so many times before. I let him become an addict, so every time that he's detached, every time he's numb and flying high from the Vicodin, it's all my fault.Addict8 years ago in General Fiction
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When I'm with Julie, I worry about him. I wonder if he's alright, if he ate dinner. I wonder if the pain is just too much for him, and if it's making him do stupid things. As I lie in bed with my beautiful wife, our backs turned to one another, I'm thinking of the beautiful steel cold blue eyes, and I'm wishing that he was mine.
We're at work together again, and he thinks I don't notice the way he tries to rub his leg without anyone noticing. He's in more pain, even though he's taken his pill already. So self-conscious about his