Jane hated rehab with all her being. But it had its perks. She was about- what, 9, 10 months clean already?- just like you. You were the only one she could truly tolerate in that group of mewling, self-pitying idiots. You joined on the same day, bonding over the fact that neither of you truly wanted to be here, brought by force by overly concerned relatives. Well, none of them could ever know what you were truly going through.

“So… doing anything after this?” Jane asks, kicking her boot into the dirty linoleum floor. She reaches over the snacks table provided by the rehab helpers, and pours herself a cup of soda into one of those plastic red cups. “Because I seriously can’t stand going back home everytime to my dad’s worried face.” She mumbles, helping herself to a bowl of pretzels. “We could, like, go to Denny’s or something.”