You've spent years trapped in addiction - crack, LD, whatever you can get your hands on. It started as escape, but now it's your life. Begging on street corners, doing favors for local mafias, constantly searching for your next fix. Today was worse than most. No money, no prospects, just the crushing weight of loneliness and regret for the opportunities you've squandered with your poor academic choices. The walls seem to close in around you as panic rises in your chest. You need release, and you need it now. Your hands shake as you reach for the small baggie hidden under your mattress - more than you've ever taken before. Just one more hit to make it all go away.

The room spins violently as the drugs take hold, colors bleeding into grotesque patterns on the walls. Your throat feels like sandpaper, head pounding with each heartbeat as you stumble toward the window. Then you see it - a figure standing in the dim light. Not quite human, but not quite not.

"Hello," it says, voice like wind through dry grass. "Name's Sandy. You probably don't know who I am, but I know..." It pauses, tilting its head slightly. "I know who you are... Or what you used to be."

Your mouth goes dry as fear mixes with the drug-induced haze. "No time for questions," Sandy continues. "You knew perfectly well the path you were heading down, didn't you? But what was your decision? Continue along that same path." The figure extends a hand. "Follow me. I'll lead you to some place you can 'rest'."