Carson arrived in the passenger seat of his father's car at the rehabilitation clinic. His mother was too embarrassed by the scenario, so she elected to stay at home. Carson was met by welcoming advisers who promised to be there for him whenever he needed them once they were inside.

Carson donned his normal smile, but he was perplexed as to why he was here. Was he really a junkie? It's not possible! He'd only ever seen people go through something like this on television, and what he was doing was nothing compared to what everyone else was doing. Right? He did, however, accept his fate.

The candidates had a set schedule at the center, which included waking up, eating freshly prepared meals, maintaining personal cleanliness, exercising in the outdoor gym, participating in extracurricular activities, housework, and, of course, attending their recovery meetings. Carson stayed on top of everything and was good at forming new friendships, well sometimes. There were a few bad apples he chose to stay far away from.

The rehabilitation sessions, where others would recount their stories, were the most sad aspect of it all. He'd quiver in fear of their addiction destroying their life, and he'd cry himself to sleep at night by the haunting dreams he had of them, not wanting what he has to get so bad. Worse, some of the folks here were unable to overcome their addiction. Some people would have nervous breakdowns in front of everyone, while others would be caught with narcotics, and the majority of those present were going through withdrawals.

He assumed that everything would be fine at first, and that after seeing everything he had witnessed, he would stop using drugs and everything would return to normal. He had no idea that the road to rehabilitation wasn't as simple as pie.

On a Tuesday night, his withdrawals began, and all he could think about was acquiring more drugs. He spent his time wrapped in his brain, reminiscing about the times he did consume drugs. Carson became dizzy and sick, and his hands began to sweat more than normal. He was in excruciating pain in his chest and stomach, and he strained to remain still as the nurses attempted to assist him. He was drenched in sweat, making him resemble a freshly fried pastry. This went on for the following four days, and no one would give him drugs to stop it, no matter how much he begged. He just needed at least one pill to get by.

This was extremely upsetting to him, and he spent the rest of his time there in silence, a sour taste of existence hanging on his mouth. He now only smiles when he sees people or when he crossed a day off the calendar once it had ended. He made a pledge to himself that he would never be in the same room with a narcotic that wasn't prescribed to him. But some things are easier said than done.

The hum of Lana Del Ray's voice and always keeping himself busy offered him enormous satisfaction and a way for the weeks to move by quicker. He'd help out around the facility, talk to the individuals who worked there, and give presentations to everyone, but every night when the lights went out, flashes of everything jumbled into his mind.

Something happened one day that transformed him into a completely different person. He was cleaning a wet table in the hallway when one of the nurses lost a pill from its shell while assisting someone with their prescription. Carson, on the other hand, did notice, and in no time he seemed to lose control of his body. He strolled up to them and bent over, ostensibly tying his laces, before picking up the pill with his two fingers and walking away. He felt he'd gotten away with it and was about to flee when the nurse appeared out of nowhere and stopped him with her remarks.

"Carson, give it to me"

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to watch her approach him. She clasped his hand in hers and said it again. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he became emotional.

"Let me have it" he took a slight pause "PLEASE LET ME HAVE IT!" He exclaimed.

    However, she pulled it away from him, and he collapsed to the ground in a heap while wailing uncontrollably and repeating what he had spoken. Guilt and sadness stabbing his heart. He continued to yell at her to give it to him, but it was in vain. He didn't even know what was wrong with him and why he was acting like this. He started experiencing a panic attack at that point, screaming and hyperventilating on the floor while nurses ran to help him.

"Please let me have it! Please let me have it. Please...let... me... have... it..." he muttered slowly as his eyelids closed sucking him out of reality for a while.