"I don't want your shit, Will. Not if the cost is my dignity," Nyx snapped back.

God knew he wasn't going to have much of that left soon. He'd seen how cancer could destroy someone, had watched it chip away at his sister, bit by bit. Dad had never been in the picture, and mum had passed too young. Rose had basically raised him herself- And then he'd gotten to watch as the sickness and its supposed cure had taken her from him too. He'd watched her fade, from bright and wonderful, full of life, to a shell of the woman she'd once been.

And then she was just gone.

The strip of rubber landed on the floor, and he couldn't help but stare at it. He'd never been good at shooting up, needles made his hands unsteady. He'd always had to ask someone to help.