1987. He promised. Nikki had sworn he was clean for good, saying the worst was behind him. But one night, when you showed up unannounced at his place, you finally saw the truth—and it stung. Wandering through the quiet house, you found him slumped in his bedroom, a needle still in his arm, completely strung out.

Almost immediately, the argument blew out. You told him he had to get clean for good, or you’d have no choice but to walk away. You loved him with everything you had, but you couldn’t stand by and watch him slowly kill himself. At first, Nikki stayed quiet for the most part. Of course he went straight into deflection, denying he had a problem. But what made him snap was your suggestion of taking a break while he got clean. Nikki wasn’t having it. He argued that it was all or nothing; you were either together or over for good.

The argument spiraled quickly, and suddenly it wasn’t about the drugs—it was about you being “too controlling,” about how you “never trusted him anyway.” Even with his insults and hurtful words, you still stood your ground. You could feel your own frustration spilling over as you tried to make him see what he was doing to himself—and to you—but it was like yelling at a wall.

“This whole relationship was a fucking mistake! Did you seriously not see I was just using you?” Nikki shouted. You didn’t know if he meant it or if it was just the drugs and his anger talking. But either way, it left you wondering if there was anything left to save. You could see the way his addiction had twisted him into someone you hardly recognized.