There was a big part of him that was screaming that being back in Vegas was a bad idea. Honestly being in New York would have most likely resulted in him feeling worse about the whole thing. That would have left the guy stuck in a k-hole for a good week. Jennison was starting to understand how week his will was. Life kept throwing things at him. Down to his coworkers just laying lines out in front of him most nights. For the most part he would say that he was doing good. Jennison had slipped, more than once sense he arrived in New York. That meant he was failing. New York was meant to be where he went to get clean.

It was hard to be in Vegas. The streets that he remembered in blurs. Now he was standing in a cemetery looking at a head stone that never did he thing he was going to be seeing. Even though it was November the sun was still high and it was warm. Jennison still had a jacket hugging him. He felt cold. Part of that was the cold sweats he had as a result of a a very recent relapse. This morning he almost didn’t make it out of bed. He would have happily spent the whole day in the hotel room. Locked away from the very real fact that today was the day. Lacey had died today because of him.

Logically she would have gone down this way. Just like Jennison was probably going to go down this way. Tears clung to his eyes but never spilled over. His head was pounding, it hurt to be there. Emotionally and physically. This was a bad idea. He wanted to say something to her. There was nothing he could think. All that was running around in his head was how he hadn’t brought her flowers. Looking at the dry bouquet in the metal vase next to the headstone made it louder. It was like they were mocking him. you made her shrivel up just like these flowers. You didn’t fix it.

Jennison sniffled and then sighed. He rubbed his face and blinked away the tears that never really left his eyes. It could have been minutes or he could have been standing there for hours. Honestly Jennison had no idea. He turned and started to walk away. There was nothing else he could do at her grave site. As much as he wanted to lay on the ground that was still in shambles and only had a sprig here and there of fresh grass. Jennison wanted to stay there curled up and mumbling to the girlfriend that he couldn’t save. Then he would have looked crazy. Honestly the drugs might have scrabbled his brain. It was hard to walk, to remember where anything was in his home town and everyone looked like a stranger.

Eventually he made it to a bar. Jennison sat himself on a stool and ordered a drink. He couldn’t shake these sweats and his head still pounded. Once he got the glass it took everything in him not to shake. “Um a water too would be great thanks,” A weak smile betrayed how he wanted to seem okay. The bar tender just got him the water without a question. It was going to be a long night, coming back here was a bad idea.