The past few days Dante had been on edge. David had thrown out his first stash of drugs and that cost him a fortune. He hated to admit that he had gotten hooked on drugs. His happiness depended on it. Most times when he was sober he felt like he was in a whirlpool of emotions, he hated that feeling, absolutely despised it. That was when he would take drugs and, boom, just like that he would be perfectly okay and extremely happy at that. Like nothing was wrong in the first place.