I'm twitchy at the game, waiting for Leon, like I had never bought drugs before. It's eating me up inside; Gideon's death. How did I get here?

Leon shows up and sits next to me. "Sup?" he greets and we make the exchange through a handshake. "Keep it careful with that dosage, cuz. I ain't your keeper and I damn straight ain't gonna be your reaper, neither, you dig? What problem you trying to solve anyway?"

"I'm fine," I lie.

"You know, that's what you always saying, man," he sniffs.

I know. And then he's here, again. "So we're back to the morphine?" he sneers. "What's that going to accomplish?"

I don't answer Leon now that I'm distract. I get up and leave as though he can't follow. "It's Adderall and this is all your fault," I tell him. "Now it's time to get rid of you." I take about a dozen tabs of the Adderall. I remember swallowing them, but I don't remember coming home. I don't remember throwing up, but I'm on all fours, a pile of vomit in front of me and my fingers down my throat. No, no, no. I have to get rid of him. In a craze, I pick out the tabs and swallow them again, but he only makes me vomit them back up. Exhausted, I take them in small doses. Enough for a high, but not enough to die.

1010011010

It's been three days since I've slept and I'm discovering how amazing Adderall is. I'm focused and I feel great. He's gone and I can even handle talking to people. The days blur together and I'm getting so much done.

1010011010

I think it's day five and I was feeling good, but now it's back' the overwhelming fear building, burrowing, the nesting, the scream. My internal fatal error from which my system cannot safely recover. Kernel panic.

1010011010

Day number six without sleep. I'm crashing. Why did I ever think a drug could replace Tara? That panic isn't settling in anymore. It's just there. The scream in my mind is coming back. Any second now he will return and my mind will be under siege again.

1010011010

I'm at the diner, trying not to think about how badly I've crashed; the episode at church group was brutal. "I don't even listen to my imaginary friend, why should I listen to yours?" What was I thinking? Well, that, but why did I say it?

Ray sits down across from me. "Heard you had an interesting night," he says and puts my journal on the table. "Chaplain's an old friend," he adds as though that explains everything.

"I threw that out for a reason," I tell him.

"I figured you might want it for down the road," he shrugs. "Trust me I've been there. Five years, seven months, three weeks, two days ago, my wife passed away. Few weeks of being frozen I woke up, fixed myself breakfast like I normally do, plugged myself into my dialysis machine like I normally do, I started talking out loud. For a second I thought I was crazy and moved on. Then I did it again the next day and then next and then I realized who I was talking to."

I can't believe he's sharing this with me. I shift uncomfortably. "Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Cause you and me are a lot more alike than you think, Elliot," he gets up from the booth. "Come on."

I follow him to his office. I'm not sure why, but I sit down across from him. I keep my hood up and sink down into the seat. I'm not sure what to do, but I know curiosity made me follow him.

"Why did you start writing that journal in the first place?" he asks.

"I thought it was the right answer," I tell him.

"The right answer to what?"

I feel like I'm talking to Krista. "Controlling my life," I answer.

"My wife, well, she drove her car that day," he says. "She did everything right. She always wore her seatbelt, hands at 10 and 2. She was the most perfect driver I ever met. It was annoying. Stayed in the lines. Never when above or below the speed limit. Followed every rule. And one day none of that mattered. Control is about as real as a one legged unicorn taking a leak at the end of a double rainbow."

"Then what do we have?"

"You know that bullshit people say about getting back up if you fall?" he asks. "I reject that shit man. The whole thing is a fall. It can't help, but be. A perpetual state of grasping in the dark. It's not about getting up, it's about stumbling in the right direction. The only true way to move forward. Whoever it is you wrote about in your journal. Do you still see him?"

I shift in my seat, but say nothing.

"I can tell he meant something to you," Ray continues. "Sometimes he takes over? That's why you don't remember things?"

I know I shouldn't have come. "I don't want to talk about this." Not to you.

"Yes you do," he presses. "Cause you're smart enough to know that keeping this inside isn't going to last."

He's right. Fuck he's right. I stand up and make a run for the door. I need to find her. I stop at a pay phone and call her, but she doesn't pick up.

"This isn't Tara. Beep."

Hearing her voice calms me, slightly, but it's not enough. I realize I don't know the address of her new apartment, but I do know where Billy lives. He's lived in the same apartment since Tara met him and they kept in touch even when she was living with me. He would know where I could find her. I would get on my knees and beg her to take me back. I would apologize and tell her I love her and things would go back to normal. Things would be how they should and she would help me deal with him.

Some thug calls to me as I storm by him into the apartment building. "Yo whatcha doing here, bro?" he asks.

"I'm going to talk to Billy," I reply without looking at him. I walk up the second floor and bang on his apartment door.

The door pulls open and Billy is standing on the other side, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "Can I help you?" he growls at me.

"I'm looking for Tara." I push into the room; something I had learned from Darlene.

"She's not here. It's none of your business where she is. Not anymore." He stands there with his arms crossed and if I wasn't so self-destructive I'd probably be scared.

"She's not answering her phone," I say.

"Not your problem." He takes a step closer. "You need to leave and stay away from Tara."

"Why?" I become offended. I'm not naïve enough to think they haven't started sleeping together again, but I would never let him steal her from me. "Don't pretend that you're in love with her when you're not."

"She knows I'm not, but we're friends and you hurt her. So leave before I hurt you."

A dog barking interrupts him. I recognize Flipper immediately as she yaps at my ankles. We both turn to see where Flipper had come from.

Tara is standing awkwardly in the doorway. "Um, did I leave my phone here?" she asks. It comes out barely more than a whisper.

Shit, how long has she been standing there? I begin to move towards her. More than anything I want to hold her, but she holds up a hand and I stop mid-step.

"Just. I need to find my phone," she says.

"I haven't seen it," Billy tells her. "But I'll try calling it."

The silence while we wait for Tara's phone to ring is unbearable. I occupy my attention with Flipper, knowing I'm the odd man out; that I shouldn't be there. Finally the other phone begins to buzz and Billy pulls it out of the couch, handing it to Tara.

"Thanks," she says.

I pretend I'm still more interested in Flipper, but I hear what Billy says next: "Do you want me to kick his ass?"

"No. I'm going to talk to him," she tells him and kisses his cheek which causes my blood to boil.

"You fuck with her again and I will kill you," Billy says. It's not a threat, but a promise.

Tara picks up Flipper's leash and tugs on my sleeve, indicating that I'm supposed to follow her from the apartment. We exit in complete silence. It's killing me. I want to tell her everything that's been draining me and pray that she still loves me enough to understand that I need her.

"Yo yo yo," the guy from earlier calls, but I think he's talking to Tara. "What's he doing? You good?"

"We're fine, Mac," Tara dismisses him. I should have known they were friends.

"What are you doing here, Elliot?" She finally addresses me.

"Looking for you," I tell her.

She seems pissed. "Yeah, I gathered that. Why?"

I need to keep her from walking away so I grab her arm, sliding my hand down to hers. "I am so fucking sorry. I am so sorry. I fucked up. I fucked up. I need you, Tara. I love you and I need you." The words spill out of me, not the way I wanted them to.

Tara pulls away, causing my stomach to plummet. "I love you, but I can't do this again Elliot. I'm sick of crying over you," she says.

"I need you." I can feel myself beginning to cry. This is not how it was supposed to go. "Please, Tara. I got lost, but I love you. Can I have another chance?"

She's digging her fingernails into the top of her hand, hurting herself.

I can't stand it and grab her again, prying her hands apart. "Stop that."

She stands there, staring at me.

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, waiting for her to say something; anything.

"Okay," she says. "But we're starting over. I'm not just falling into you again."

It isn't what I want. I want to go home with her, hold her, talk to her, and be how we were. I gulp. "Coffee? Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. See you then." She walks away, taking Flipper with her, without so much as a hug.

I watch her until she disappears. I wish I was still doing morphine.