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Sloane,” was hurting too. All this time I thought Sloane had the perfect, worry- free life because everyone loved her, everyone doted on her. She was successful, beautiful, and had built a life for herself. What could possibly be wrong in her world when she seemed to have it all? But the eyes didn’t lie and in that moment I could see her pain as clear as day.
    Shortly after our heated confrontation, Michael took me back to his place and helped me sober up. We were sitting at his kitchen table drinking coffee. I was still very emotional as silent tears continued to fall down my cheeks. As always, my brother offered to let me stay with him until I got on my feet, but as always, I turned him down.
    “I’ve got to do this on my own, Mikey, with no help from my family,” I gently told him. 
    It was quiet throughout his apartment with nothing to be heard other than us sipping our hot coffee and my occasional sniffs. I could barely take the hurt and concern in my little brother’s eyes. I knew he worried about me. Besides Carly, he understood me more than anyone in our family. He had battled his own demons so he knew firsthand how hard it was going to be for me to get my life together.
    “Sarah, we’re family, we’re supposed to help each other through the good and the bad. I wish you’d let me help you,” Michael pleaded.
    “I appreciate your offer to let me stay with you, and I love you for always wanting to take care of me, but I truly have to try to do this on my own. I know I’ve failed many times, but I have to keep trying. I just have to.”
    I stood up, put my coffee cup in his dishwasher, and gave my brother a strong hug. I then walked to his spare bedroom to go to bed. My head was pounding, and I knew it was because I was holding in my emotions. I didn’t want Michael to see me break down because I knew he wouldn’t be able to take it and would feel the need to do something about it. He didn’t realize that he couldn’t fix everything, and not every situation required action. I love him for trying though.
    I laid in bed and cried bitter, shameful tears. The more I cried, the more I sobered up. I thought about how much I’d hurt the people I loved the most, especially Sloane. I laughed to myself as I thought about how I had the nerve to be angry that she hadn’t include me in any of the excitement with her new fiancé. The drugs really had made me delusional. How could I honestly expect her to be willing to share anything with me, let alone talk to me, after all of the awful things I’d done to her? Things I had yet to apologize for. As I reflected on my behavior over the years towards Sloane, and my family as a whole, I couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could stand to be around me when all I did was hurt them. I couldn’t even stand being in my own skin most times. For years I’d kept these self-loathing thoughts bottled up inside. When you’re hurting and wounded, you lash out at others because you want them to feel your pain with the hopes that they will understand your suffering. Not only do you want them to understand your suffering, but you want them to help you end it too. Because I didn’t know how to change my life or fix myself, I continued to do what I did best - hurt people. I was caught in a vicious cycle of self-abuse and self-sabotage, and I wanted it to stop.
    The next morning I went to see my old friend Sandy and begged her to let me get back into escorting. She’s such a beautiful woman inside and out with her smooth, milk- chocolate skin. She’s tall, standing at 5’10” with a medium build that she kept in tip-top shape. Her smile was always so genuine and could light up any room, and her snorty laugh was infectious. Her eyes were always kind and sparkling like diamonds. Some people looked down on Sandy because of the line of work she was in. Even certain family members refused to talk to her, including her father, whom she continues to take care of now that he’s in a