Relapse can be addictive
J doesn’t need rehab. He’s well clean of the hard stuff, the soft stuff, and the things in between that helped him bury his fear that he isn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. Except that now he’s gone into the wrong bathroom again and a gang of thugs has decided to beat the freak out of him. Plus, he’s left to brood in his apartment while he convalesces, listening to the newborn next door wail through the walls at regular, insomnia-producing intervals. He’s not sure how much sobriety a man can take.
Then the wailing stops, and that silence grows even more deafening than the whispers of craving. In an uncharacteristic and almost irrational fear for the infant’s safety, J pulls himself from his bed to investigate only to discover a drug addiction more tormenting than his own, one that will threaten his sobriety, his identity, his fragile sense of self.