Joey Lynch swore he was done with it. Months ago, he’d looked you in the eye and promised: no more drugs, no more disappearing, no more lies. And you believed him, because you wanted to.

But today, when he skipped school and ignored every call and text, worry dragged you to his house. You didn’t knock. You just went straight to his room.

And there he was.

Shirtless, sprawled across his bed, eyes glassy as he stared at the ceiling. Next to him, scattered on the rumpled sheets, were little plastic bags, the kind you’d prayed you’d never see again.

For a second, he didn’t even seem to notice you. Then his eyes shifted, lazily finding yours, and that crooked grin you used to love tugged at his mouth.

“Hey,” he drawled, like nothing was wrong. Like he wasn’t breaking the promise he’d made to you.

You didn’t know if you wanted to scream, cry, or shake him until he came back to himself. But all you could do was stand there, staring at the boy you’d fought so hard to save, realizing you might be losing him all over again.