Page 144 of The Fine Line
Eleven Years Ago
Chicago, IL, USA
I forget when it shifted.
When it went from something I was doing to something that I’ve become.
I had a feeling that first night I met Sid. That strange, unexplainable little flutter in your gut when you meet someone for the first time and just know—on some instinctive, primal level—that your life is about to change.
For better or worse, you can’t say. You just feel it.
Sid felt it too. Said it out loud, actually, only minutes after we met. Right after that first hit—right after everything started to blur in the kind of haze that doesn’t just steal your mind but steals your future too.
“I have a feeling this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” he said.
It was the start of something, alright.
We partied hard that night.
And the next.
And again.
For the next two months, really.
The memories bleed together into one big, fucked-up blur of neon lights and hotel rooms, pill bottles and powdered mirrors, blackouts and half-forgotten hookups.
I was down bad before this—dug so deep into a hole of loneliness, depression, and self-pity that I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to claw my way back out.
But somehow, here I am. Still breathing. Still skating.
Hockey hasn’t gotten any better—if anything, it’s worse. The faster I spiral, the harder it is to find the fire I used to have. You’d think that would make me feel something.
Shame. Rage. Desperation.
But I don’t.
Not since the Oxys.
The steady supply hasn’t been hard to maintain. A couple of gorgeous, ethically flexible doctors in the city were more than willing to keep the prescriptions flowing after the team doc cut me off. I’ve gotten good at smiling through the lies. Good at saying what they need to hear.
And thanks to them, I’ve been feeling…
Nothing at all.
I tell myself it’s just temporary. That it’s social. Recreational. The coke, especially—I only use it when I’m desperate.
I’m in control.
Same with the drinking. It’s for the team. For appearances. For the nights I can’t sleep.
The Percs, though…
That’s different.
I don’t know.
I’m not sure I could stop even if I wanted to.
