Poetic Tragedy

The loose floor-board was now empty. Victoria had packed all its contents in her bag, which now hung from her shoulder as she roamed through the streets aimlessly. She had also gathered some clothes and all the drawing supplies she had. She had no idea where to go, but she knew one thing: she could never go back to her mother’s house. It was because of her mother, that she was going downhill now, and couldn’t stop.

She felt a rush of emotions spring up inside her. She wanted it all to go away. Tears threatened to come out. The restrained anger towards her mother and towards herself was too much for her to handle.

Her feet had taken her under a bridge in a park where she would sit by herself when she was younger to escape the hell that was her home. This was the only place where she could be herself, and express her real feelings, Victoria thought. She had stopped coming down here when her father found out about it. Of course, her mother never knew a thing about it, and her father was now somewhere far away from her home, so once again she could be lonely in her sanctuary.

The park was lonely as usual. No one would ever go there; apparently they feared they’d be robbed. Victoria thought it stupid of them, since not even thieves liked the place, though she had no idea why.

She sat there, with her back to the wall, and hugged her legs trying desperately to avoid the thoughts of her family. Trying to avoid it all. Her body was shaking slightly again, and her legs and arms hurt again. She started crying and rocking herself back and forth, fighting the urge to get the drug her body so craved for from her bag.

Victoria took her cell phone out of her jean pocket with shaky hands. She searched for Jake’s number. He had been there when no one else would; she hoped he’d help her again. The phone rang, and rang, and rang, until she was sent to Jake’s voice mail. She threw the phone on the floor.

The inner pain was overwhelming. She wanted out. She took out the heroin, and a razorblade from her bag. She dropped the heroin on the floor next to her, and looked instead at the cloud-covered morning sky. In her life the clouds would never go away.

“No one cares,” Victoria said to herself. Drugs relieved her from her pain, but made her their slave. “My release becomes my prison.” By then, she was crying and shaking uncontrollably. This last word she spoke was impressed into her skin by the razorblade. She couldn’t take the wreck her life was. Her arm was bleeding profusely. She looked at the heroin once again. It would drive everything away again. She made her choice.

“Wrong again...” She sighed to herself as she grabbed the heroin from where she had previously dropped it.

- - - - -

Jake went into his bedroom looking for his keys and cell phone. He was almost ready for work, except for those two small things. He found them both on the night table beside his bed. He looked at his phone. One missed call. He checked who had called him. Victoria Black. Immediately remembering how they met, he called her back. The call went to her voice mail. Something was wrong again.