She woke when the clock said 4:32. Most nights she slept without disturbance. Hadn't really had any problems since the months after Michael died. But now, here she was, awake before dawn and not working.

She got up and made her way to the bathroom. Something was giving her the innate feeling that she should be extra quiet, though she didn't know what. Early morning jitters.

In the bathroom, she flipped on the light. It felt cold and isolated, reminded her of those commercials for Ambien or whatever that showed a dark apartment building with one lit window. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was messed up from sleeping.

She was thinking about the meth. It had been in the back of her mind since she'd awoken, but only now did she allow it to come to the forefront. She wished she had some now, just a little to take her mind off of...whatever it was that was keeping her up. She'd gotten rid of it all though, everything that was left after that night.

The morning after, she woke up alone, Chase having snuck out in the early hours, wondering how much of it all had been real. Disgusted, she got rid of everything that was left, which wasn't much.

She was regretting it now though. She opened the medicine cupboard, thinking there might be something that could make her sleep a couple more hours. Nothing like the meth, but something. If there wasn't anything, well, the streets were rife. Just this one time, it would be okay. She wouldn't make it a habit or anything. Just this time, if there was nothing else. She wouldn't become like him, sweating and shaking and ducking out of the room so no one would know he was puking.

She stopped, feeling a hole spreading in her stomach. Oh god, was this what it was like for him? Digging through medicine cupboards in the middle of the night, ready for anything, ready to break the law if that's what it took to get it?

She slammed the cupboard shut and snapped of the lights. Quickly, she made her way back to bed and slid under the covers. She lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, afraid, but firm. She wouldn't become like him.