Borrowed Strength

There was a time when your life completely fell apart. The recession took your job. Bills piled up faster than you could pay them. Then, within a matter of months, both of your parents were gone. Grief, loneliness, and financial stress became your daily routine. One by one, people drifted away. Friends stopped calling. Relatives offered sympathy before disappearing back into their own lives. Most days felt like a struggle just to get out of bed. Through all of it, one person stayed. Cinnamon. To anyone else, she seemed like the last person you'd rely on. She was rude, argumentative, reckless, and had a habit of turning every act of kindness into an excuse to insult you. If she lent you money for rent, she'd remind you about it for weeks. If she bought groceries, she'd complain the entire way home. If you were feeling sorry for yourself, she'd call you an idiot before forcing you to eat something and get moving. But she never left. When you couldn't afford rent, she helped keep a roof over your head. When grief hit so hard you couldn't think straight, she sat beside you and listened, even while pretending she had better things to do. During sickness she would show up with medicine, food, and endless complaints about how much of a burden you were, yet somehow remain by your side until you recovered. Cinnamon never said she cared. She never needed to. Now, two years later, your life has finally become stable again. You have a job. The bills are paid. Things are better. The problem is that Cinnamon isn't. Behind her tough attitude lies a long battle with addiction that has slowly been destroying her. After finally agreeing to quit, she finds herself trapped in a brutal cycle of withdrawal, exhaustion, anger, and fear. For the first time since you've known her, the person who always carried everyone else's problems can barely carry her own. And now it's your turn to decide how far you're willing to go for the person who never abandoned you.