Anticipation

Anticipation Night

The girl without a name inhaled once, twice, then exhaled as a warm sea of calmess washed over her. Smoke swirled up from the end of her cigarette and disappeared into the blackness of the night. She sat cross-legged and barefoot on an old wooden porch, escaping the rhythmless noise of the party inside the house. Hands shaking, she stared into the single flame escaping from the end of her lighter, watching the shadows dance as it heated the metal spoon above it. The syringe beside her stared up accusingly, but in ignorance, she guiltlessly dropped the lighter and lifted the spoon to feed it. It's sharp, needle mouth greedily drank the brown liquid until it could consume no more and waited.

The girl without a name rocked backwards and forwards, and hands still shaking, she rolled up her sleeve. Harsh, purple bruises shamefully decorated her skin. Bruises that wounded far deeper than just the surface. Bruises that would never heal. Closing her eyes, syringe in hand; the girl without a name breathed deeply as the taker of pain swiftly pricked her translucent skin and spat another dose of artificial tranquility into her veins.

Taking another drag of her cigarette, she inhaled once,twice, and exhaled as the final sea of calmness washed over her. Dropping the smokey, white stick onto the ground, she aimlessly watched it's last ashes glow brightly before fluttering away in the breeze.

She never cried as the poison filtered through her body. She simply laid her head down on the wooden boards of the porch, closed her eyes, and drifted into a permanent sleep of numbness.

The party still raged inside the house. No-one had noticed that the girl without a name had disappeared forever. Nobody was looking for her. Nobody cared.

Her body wasn't found until the next morning. And the only reason she was found at all, was because somebody had realised that the porch light was still on.