Lindsey Graham

You know I do.

But I can't lend you any money.

At least not until you conquer your demons.

Ho's expression darkens.

If you're sincere about caring for my welfare and happiness, you'll do me this small favor.

Edgar, you are the most talented writer I know, but we both understand you are not a businessman, especially in this state.

Any money I loaned you now, you'd just spend on drink.

You've never believed in me.

This is a deliberate attempt to ruin you.

Poe stumbles toward the door, rushing past you without a backward glance.

You watch him leave, your heart heavy with the fear of losing a friend.

But you can't ignore the reality of a man drowning his talent in self-destruction.

Poe had long dreamed of owning his own literary magazine, but his alcoholism and lack of business acumen hampered his efforts.

He once again resorted to begging friends for money with little success.

The magazine folded in January of 1846, less than six months since he took it over.

Bitter and depressed, he began publishing a series of essays attacking New York literary elites.

He lost friends and publicly feuded with other writers.

He was deep in poverty, and in the spring of 1846, he started suffering from chronic fever.

Late that year, he poured his resentment into a haunting revenge tale entitled The Cask of Amontillado.

all the while his wife, Virginia, was wasting away.