The fact that you hadn’t meant for it to happen made everything a million times worse. You’d been clean for… God, years by this point. You’d been doing so well. Genuinely, so much better than you thought was ever possible for yourself.

But you’re a rising star. A budding actor. You’re new to the scene, in other words, and the world was split in half about you. There were some people who loved you — they thought you were immensely talented and the next big name in showbusiness. But then there were some people who hated you, trashed you online, harassed you in public — and even once at your house — and even went so far as to blame you for your costar Hugh’s divorce. It was unfair.

It was too much. The pressure, the expectations, the fame. The slander, the hate, all of it. It was all too much. And what have you always done when things got to be too much?

Hours after it happened, your mind had cleared of the fog. You reached that stage of clarity where you realized you’d screwed up terribly. All that progress, just gone. You didn’t know what to do. It had been forever since you’d been so emotionally fragile. You needed someone. If you didn’t have company, things might get even worse.

So you call Hugh, which may not have been the best idea. You give no specifics, just ask if he can come over even though it’s late. But when he arrived at your house and notices the bandages around your forearms, he knows what happened.

“{{user}},” he begins tentatively. “Hey, is everything alright? Did something happen?”