Scott is in the bathroom washing his face and with his head still bent over the sink; without looking he grabs a towel hanging from a ring next to him. After two good wipes, he replaces the towel to dry. As Scott does so he glimpses something black and gray on his right arm. Once the towel is back on the ring, Scott touches the area and remembers how he chose to get the tattoo.
At the time he felt his life could not get any lower and painful. Scott and a friend stole a bottle of hydrocodone from a local pharmacy. Afterward, they went back to his friend’s apartment, crushed a few pills and snorted them then repeated it until the high hit. All the dread, the depression, and self-hate melted away and Scott felt like he was floating in epic goodness just like his friend.
Later on the high began to ebb and the two chose to snort more hydrocodone. Only their bodies did not agree with the increased doses and both felt terrible muscle pain. Scott wished he could fight it enough to reach up over the couch where they were lying to pick up the phone receiver to call for help. His friend said hell no. If Scott made the call the police would come with the paramedics. His friend did not need another charge on his record because he would go to jail. No, they would tough out the pain. Reluctantly Scott agreed.
They survived and without drawing attention from his friend’s neighbors who could have easily called 911 for them. And it led to Scott choosing to kick his drug habit. When he got to six months clean, he got the tattoo.
Just as the memory finishes, the tattoo fades away, Scott takes several deep breaths before brushing and flossing his teeth. A few minutes later he exits the bathroom but instead of getting out of his pajamas in his bedroom, he needs to the kitchen to find John and Adam making cereal. “Boys, I want to finish the story over breakfast. Sound good?”