but he doesn’t say anything else to me. Not for several minutes, at least. And the longer he’s quiet, the worse I feel and the sadder I get. He drove four hundred miles to save me. A locked door couldn’t keep us apart. He’d do anything for me right now, I know he would, and I’m telling him to fuck off and trying to kick him. I’m wishing he wasn’t here so he doesn’t have to see me like this, again, because he’s seen me like this before and I promised him, I promised him it was the last time when I stole from our parents to get high and my own brother, my own flesh and blood had to arrest me. I
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