"Addicted"

The heroin met his bloodstream like a hurricane, sending shivers up and down, up and down. It had already begun to devour him, similar to the way a snake eats a mouse. Slowly. The only way out is down. Why it comes to this, no one will ever know, the injection of artificial happiness. The injection of reason, reason to live, reason to need. On heroin you could walk from one place to the other and never realize you've moved, your too into the feeling. Tomorrow screamed out his name and yesterday pushed him away, as would his next and last fix of smack. Wtihout a doubt he'd need it, long for it, chase it, force his body to lie still while the end inevitably wraps itself around him. A one way track to the bottom of the bottom, the worst of the worst, he knew that's where he'd be going soon but for some reason he kept falling.

She wanted him, she wanted him bad, and there was nothing that could keep her from him, not even god herself. Within minutes he'd be leaving and she'd follow. Staying close behind but not too close. Never let them realize you're following them, they tend to run. Sixteen steps behind and twelve stairs below she waited. Mind numbing pain tore through her, withdrawals I guess, withdrawals from him. Love, societies addiction. She'd been procrastinating for weeks. He was there, she was there, but she couldn't do it. She only dreamt of how it would feel, the way his arms would wrap around her and that uncontrollable feeling would consume them again, make them whole. After five minutes of suffering he appeared again. His lips glistened in the sunlight, his long black hair flying back in the wind, god how she missed him. She stayed put though, it wasn't the right time, hell there really was no right time but one more day couldn't hurt, he seemed to be doing fine. Her head turned the other way as her eyes set on the alleyway entrance, she'd soon be home and tomorrow would bring her long awaited dream.

Life had become so much easier with this connection, knowing that no matter what time of day he could find love. The little pewter spoon began to boil his one hit of happiness, while the last tore at his chest. Pictures where scattered throughout his room, covered in dust and filth, surrounded by needles and syringes. The lighter went out, followed by the sucking of the syringe, within seconds he'll be above himself, above the clouds. He wouldn't let it kill him though, even the lethal dosage inside him now wouldn't end it, he'd already decided that. Even with his mind drowned by chemicals his thoughts still poured out, Why? Why did she leave me? Why does she hate me? But there where no answers, only silence, so called serenity, his brain is now in complete control, of nothing. The handle of the gun, wrapped like a christmas present that someone would send you in hell, he slowly lifted it as tears of joy streamed down his face. Knowing that tomorrow brings nothing is such a relief. No pain, no love, no regret, no suffering. This is the end of everything. The explosion inside the chamber is blocked out by the departure of his right temple. Blood splatters into the bathtub and his last thoughts slam into the wall, his leftover body crumples. Clouds can't even get this high.

Sunlight peered through her blinds, lighting the room for her awakening. Today was February 28th, his birthday and she decided it was perfect. She'd been dozing for hours, trying her hardest to get sleep but sometimes it's impossible. A few less hours wouldn't bother her today, not with him next to her, if he'd forgive her. She pulled on her jeans and t-shirt, combing through her hair a few times, just enough to pull up the pony tail. The sound of passing traffic could be heard from the street, people's voices blended together to make that annoying sound you hear in a cafeteria. Her heart ached from nervousness, as did her eyes from the sunlight. The door creaked as it opened and after the steps came society. Everywhere she turned people smiled and laughed, she couldn't wait to be one of them again, happy and contempt. The blocks between her and him seemed so much further today, maybe it was the anticipation or lack of sleep. It didn't matter though, she couldn't feel anything but wrapped up and confused, sorta like the way a mouse feels inside a snake. Her legs pushed downward on the steps as his door came into view. She heard nothing. No one talking, no television, so called serenity. The door pushed open, slightly. Sprayed across the right wall, a portrait of his end. Immediatly she hit the floor. "God no, God no", she screamed, the feeling of loss cleaned her of emotion. Tears drained from her eyes and depression yanked vomit from her stomache. It was continuous the pain, the pain of being to late. She couldn't even look at him she just saw the gun. The smell of death gripped her throat and she kept puking. She crawled to the gun, not even thinking of the future anymore, only the past. Only what she could have done. The barrel pressed cold against her chin and suicide filled the room.

"Addicted"