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[ 邻*·˚CHAPTER FIFTYEIGHT ༘繁 ]
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Jadon sat up on his bed and leaned against his headboard as he grabbed yet another tissue to wipe his runny nose. He had been going through withdrawal all night long and couldn't even close his eyes for a second without feeling sick.
He sighed as he tossed his legs over the bed and got up slowly, checking his phone for a quick second seeing it was 2 o'clock in the morning.
Jadon opened his bedroom door and went downstairs to go something to drink. He thought about leaving the house to go buy himself a bag of coke because the pain he was feeling through his body was becoming so unbearable. Jadon leaned himself against the kitchen counter as his mind was cruel with it's criticisms.
The voice is always there, in the back of his head.
Just one more time, then we'll stop.
Jadon sighed heavily as he rocked back and fourth on the heels of his feet taking a deep breath to stop himself from crying. All he wanted was himself back and his addiction was making it really hard.
The kitchen light flipped on and Jadon turned in the direction of the light switch to see who it was.
"Why are you in my kitchen moaning and groaning like that?" Carlos asked, walking to the fridge where he pulled out a bottle of cranberry juice.
Jadon closed his eyes and shook his head, "Why you always got somethin' to say to me?"
Carlos took a swig from the juice in his hand, "Just thought I would make conversation."
"Your conversation skills suck." Jadon pressed his back to the wall before sliding down, sitting on the cold kitchen floor. "Can I get some juice?" He then asked his father.
Carlos poured some juice in a glass and walked over to hand it to Jadon, sitting down next to him in the process. "I thought you would've been getting some sleep. We have a long drive tomorrow."