The Man of the Void

The apartment was dead and empty, void of life. It took a moment for the man who walked through the unlocked door to realize that there was a body sprawled over the couch. He walked slowly over to the couch and kicked the edge, a shiver ran down his spine when the question of death went through his mind, but quickly disintegrated when the body began to stir. The body belonged to a woman in her early twenties, with thin unkempt blond hair and pale sickly skin. She had dark brown roots and green eyes, sunken into shadow.

"You still want this?" The man asked, holding up an extremely wrinkled plastic bag filled with powder. She nodded and reached out to take it with trembling fingers. The veins in her hands stood out, the skin was draped over her bones like a thin, opaque sheet. (Time ended here, 10/21/09. This is what I'm adding now.) He pulled back, and she produced a sum of money from her pocket. He took it and counted carefully, and laughed throwing it back at her. It was not enough.

He left, taking the precious venom with him. The woman sunk back down onto the couch, filling with despair. She needed the poison to take away the pain.