Tony hated taking drugs. He did it because he was too scared to live without them, because he knew if he tried, the ghost would be able to find him. Not the usual ghosts he'd seen all his life, but a terrifying apparition that appeared when he was twelve and tried to kill him with a bronze dagger. A shot of whisky made the fear go away and set him on the road to addiction.
He couldn't explain this to anyone, especially his mother who never stopped trying to help him.
She made one last attempt by having him admitted to The Institute, an organisation with the best reputation in the country for rehabilitation. Tony assumed it would be like all the others. A few weeks of group therapy and fake promises, then he'd be free to go back to his version of normal.
It didn't work out that way. Dr Marshall had his own unique methods and, as Tony's body healed and his mind cleared, all he could do was wait for his attacker to return and finish what it started.
The people he now lived with insisted they could help, but how could they ever understand the nightmare he was facing?
