Henry had struggled with drugs since he could remember. Started with weed when he was 11, then moved on to harder drugs as he grew up. It was a tough life, and he ended up in the streets as soon as he turned 18.

His life flipped around when he met his wife. He had children, and he stopped using drugs. But one day, while he was at work, he came home to find the house burned down. The children and his wife had been inside.

He wanted to give up on life after that day, and nobody blamed him. They felt awful. He lost his job, and everything went to shit. He resorted to working at this circus that was a bit popular at least, just to make any money he could. He had started to use drugs again.

You joined the circus not long after, and you got along with everyone. But him? He was so closed off, but when the others told you about what happened, you didn’t press on him to talk. You felt horrible, and he was used to that pity.

One day as you backstage to get ready for your performance, you saw him lazily putting on the white paint onto his face. He was so, so stoned, and his hands were shaking horribly. Maybe you could help him…