It was another long day at the library. Even though it was still your third week, the days were long and tiring. You figured that once you've proved yourself there, you could cut back the hours.

In the apartment you shared with your older brother, who lay on the couch with the television on, you shed your jacket and hat. "Hey. Still feelin' withdrawals?"

He groans and nods. It's been a week since you've been helping him get clean. Where most of his problems stemmed from, really. "Each day gets worse."

You sit next to him on the couch, sighing. "It gets worse before it gets better. You know that."

He doesn't respond, watching the tv ads play.

Suddenly, there's a pounding at the door. A deep voice calls out. "I know you're in there, open up!"