Confused, Addicted, Hurt » Places

         Niko sighed as he sat up in bed. Nothing was going to be great this morning. A stack of papers waited on his nightstand, wanting his signature to approve of new things for the company. "Why can't I just go back before they split?" He asked himself as he moved out from underneath the blanket. His feet hit the floor with a thump that someone who was extremely tired would make. His eyes shifted though as a bag laid beside the papers.

The bag of crack was brought to him from his butler. The man was good at finding the best kind, but a bag everyday was going to kill Niko. Shaking his head, Niko moved away from the bag. He wanted to forget that the thing ever existed. He wanted help.

When he looked in the mirror he saw his eyes were wide with bags under. These things showed on his face whenever he was having withdrawal symptoms. He shook his head and his fist connected with the dresser. "Damn it!" I shouted as he looked back at the mirror. Her face was smiling at him from the picture they took one day in the summer. He wanted her, he missed her.

He also wanted to get better for her. Picking up a piece of chocolate from a bowl, he grabbed his robe and went to the shower. When he got out, he dressed and picked up the brochure that was on his shelf. "I will get better." He grumbled as he put on his clothes and grabbed it. "For her," He said as he picked up his keys and went to the 1967 Chevrolet Impala.