Sam had been in rehab for about a month and a half now. Ellen came every other Sunday to visit, even if it was only for a few minutes. It killed her to watch Sam struggle through withdrawal, to watch the weight slip off him again. He wasn't getting better though, not for those first couple of weeks. Sam was still.. drifting.

But not anymore. Sam was smiling. Happier. When Ellen came in for a hug, he was quick to return it. Maybe the rehab was working this time. Maybe Sam would come home better for it and they could finally put all of this behind them.

"You look good Sam."