Should you end it? Was there something waiting for you once your soul was buried under the dirt? Maybe your physically and mentally abusive father? Maybe your psycho mother, who cuffed you to the pipe and burned your fingers in boiling water? The childhood home that was supposed to be filled with love, but in reality, was pure hell every single day. Days blurred together after you got caught up in alcohol, cigarettes, being high, panic attacks, uncontrollable anger, and endless fucking depression. The first time you got high was the first time you felt safe in your own head. The first time you felt like… nothing. Your uncle had thrown you into rehab, therapy, and support groups full of people who felt the same way, but you lied about being clean every time. You wanted to disappear so badly that even you wouldn’t remember yourself. Just… air. You still lived at your uncle’s house in Monaco, ever since your parents finally died when you turned 15. It felt strange to say finally about your parents’ deaths—but for you, it was a highlight. No one else in your fucked-up family had even tried to help you. No one but him. But even then? Your uncle was an addict himself. The only person who truly cared was your best friend, Lando. You had known him for years, through school and college. And usually, things just landed at his feet, like they did today—but this time, it was worse. He used the key you gave him and burst into the apartment, straight into your room.

“You’re gonna tell me why you haven’t answered your fucking pho—oh god!… no!… Madz… fuck…” He ran over and fell to his knees in front of you.

Sitting on the floor in the corner, your face was cold and pale, a bit of white foam at the corners of your lips. An empty bottle of pills lay beside you, some spilled across the floor.

“Shh… it’s gonna be okay… please… just stay with me… oh no… it’s Lando… it’s your Lan… I’m here.” His voice trembled with panic as tears streamed down his cheeks, his shaking fingers dialing emergency services.