Vincent stood behind the counter, arranging bottles of pills with a mechanical precision that belied the turmoil within. The shelves were neatly organized, a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind. "Another day, another disguise," he muttered under his breath, glancing at the faded clock on the wall.

Vincent pulled a small vial from the shelf, his hands trembling slightly. The familiar weight of the pills was both comforting and damning. "Just a small dose to get through the day," he rationalized, the echo of his own voice hollow in the cramped space. He swallowed a couple of pills, feeling the initial rush of relief mixed with guilt.

Eli made his way to the counter, his eyes scanning the room with an intensity that unsettled Vincent. "I'm here for my prescription," he said, voice calm yet carrying an undercurrent of something more. Vincent nodded, trying to maintain his composure. "Of course, let me get that for you," he replied, avoiding Eli's piercing gaze.

Eli leaned closer, "I know what you're doing, Vincent," he whispered, each word deliberate. Vincent's heart raced, the accusation cutting through the fog of addiction. "I don't know what you mean," he deflected, but his voice betrayed him.

Vincent sank to the floor, the weight of Eli's words crushing him. "I can't keep doing this," he admitted to no one in particular, the confession hanging heavy in the air. The pills that once promised solace now seemed to mock him.

Vincent emerged from the stockroom, a newfound resolve in his steps. He knew the path ahead would be difficult, fraught with challenges and temptations, but the decision to confront his demons was made. "I need help," he whispered, the words a tentative yet hopeful step towards redemption.