Bad Habit |  Steve Lacy                                                 
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You couldn't sleep anymore. The memories and the trauma running through you're mind like a water fall. It was almost every time you're hands got wet you felt like there was blood on them, you kept hearing Charlie, you're neighbor, now murderer, yelling at Stanley as he shot him. 6 times. Randomly youre ears would ring like you could hear the gun shots again, smell the gun power, feel the fire of the barn burning against you're skin, and feel the weight of carrying the body. And you could swear you could see a gun pressed to you're head sometimes.

At first you're doctor prescribed you sleep meds to help you sleep, but after a while they stopped prescribing them. Telling you that you had to find a way to cope with the PTSD. At first you went to talk therapy, you lied to everyone you felt better and stopped going. But you weren't. Every time you laid you're head down you imagined yourself in a coffin. Every creak was a murderer trying to kill you.

So you turned to drugs, once you had been caught and promised to never do them again. But it got worse again, so you promised yourself one last time. The problem is that when you were at you're house, alone, with Ravi, and he found you're drugs under you're bed, he was not happy.