Chapter 37

Not everybody went through withdrawals the same. Warren felt the lack of oxycodone all the way down to his marrow. He felt it in every joint. He felt it in his neck and behind his eyes. And he always cried to Edwin, begging him to make it stop. Begging him to give him a break. Edwin didn’t know how Warren went through this process again and again. Why he hurt himself like this.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never…I never…I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry. God, just make it stop. I’m sorry.” His litany of apologies was cut off by a coughing fit that shook his whole body. He doubled over, half hanging off the narrow cot, his sandy blond hair covering his face as saliva, snot, and bile fell from his face. Edwin reached for the roll of paper towels on the floor and pulled off several squares, holding them at the ready.

“Here, let me help you with that.”