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I’m sorry, Matty.

Ain’t your fucking fault.

What are you gonna do?

I don’t fucking know. My fucking Wife has always been the one that held us together while I was out fucking up, and if she’s on the shit, things are gonna fall the fuck apart. You can’t have Kids or have a Family with two Parents that are Rockheads, and I probably won’t be able to stay clean if she’s fucking smoking.

What about getting her some help and going back to boxing?

Look at me, James, I can’t fucking fight no more. My body is wrecked, my head is all fucked up. I wouldn’t last thirty fucking seconds in a Ring with the worst fucking fighters in the World. And as much as I want her to get help, we spent the last chunk of my fighting money paying for me to come here and we ain’t got nothing else. We ain’t got fucking shit.

Can I do anything to help?

Not unless you got a big-ass chunk of money sitting around that you want to give me.

I don’t.

I’m fucked, James. It’s all over.

Something will work out.

I seen too much of the fucking rock to believe that bullshit. I’m gonna die, she’s gonna die, and our Kids gonna grow up to be just like us. We’re all fucked. Totally fucked.

He stands.

I gotta go for a fucking walk.

He picks up his tray.

Thanks for listening to me.

He walks away. I watch him. I pick up my coffee cup and I stand and I walk to the conveyor and I set my cup on it. I walk down the Glass Corridor separating men and women. I see Miles and Ted walking toward me. They are close together and their heads are turned down. Their lips are moving, but barely. Miles looks up at me and he gives me a slight nod acknowledging me and he continues speaking to Ted. They walk past me. I leave them alone.

I go back to my Room. I open the nightstand next to my bed. I take the stack of paper the twenty-two pages and I put them in the pocket of my pants. I leave my Room and I walk through the Halls. They are gray like the morning like fading sadness like rising fear. I am aware of them, but they don’t bother me. I know them too well. They don’t bother me.

I knock on Joanne’s door she says come in. I open the door and I step inside. She is sitting behind her desk, reading the paper, drinking coffee, smoking a cigarette. She speaks.

How are you?

I’m good.

You ready?

Yeah, I’m ready.

Anything you want to talk about before we go?

No.

She sets down her paper, stubs out her cigarette.

After lunch today, I need you to come back here. Ken and I want to go over some things with you.

Is everything okay?

We have a Recovery Plan we’d like you to follow after you leave here.

Anything in it I’ll actually do?

Probably not, but it would be irresponsible not to present it to you.

Okay.

You want to go?

Yeah.

She stands. We walk out of her Office and through the Halls. The Halls are still gray, though a few shades darker, like deeper sadness, like greater fear. We do not talk as we walk, and with each step, the memory of that night grows stronger. I just wanted to be alone. I was crying. He came to me and I destroyed him. His spilling blood. I fucking destroyed him.

We stop at a door. A sign on the door reads Father David, Chaplain, Religious Services. Joanne knocks on the door a voice says come in. She tells me to wait for a moment and she opens the door and she walks inside and she closes the door behind her.

I stand and I wait. I start to shake my hands and legs and lips are shaking. My heart is shaking. If they were part of me, the Halls would be black. With sadness and fear. With the darkest darkness that lives within me. They would be jet fucking black. I am shaking.

The door opens. Joanne steps out and she stands in front of me. She speaks.

He’s ready for you.

All right.

I told him there might be some uncomfortable moments. He said it’s probably nothing he hasn’t heard before.

We’ll see.

Good luck.

Thank you.

She reaches out and she puts her arms around me and she hugs me. She speaks.

You’ll feel better when it’s over.

I nod. She lets go of me. I reach for the door my arm is