So I asked him again, as that telltale smoke leaked through his lips just like always. "Do you think you could ever live without drugs?" Just as the time before, he did not answer, but stared at the wall as if it were doing some magical dance that only he could watch. I could see that he felt his words in his throat, but he pressed them down with the force of his inhale.
So I spoke not in questions, but in fact, "It will be me, or it will be drugs." He turned his eyes from the wall and followed my eyes. Tears were on my cheeks, coming to drops at the end of my nose and leaving spots on my shirt. I was begging him to speak, to answer. He asked me, "Please, sweetheart, don't."
"It will be me, or it will be drugs."
"Please, I love you."
"It will be me, or it will be drugs."
"I'm so sorry, I'm addicted."
"IT WILL BE ME OR IT WILL BE DRUGS."
"Please."
I packed my things in the car.
"Please."
"Have a good night."
His red, wet eyeballs leaked onto his cheeks.
I drove away.
<3ashes
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