Torment

The acrid smoke permeated the room, its serpentine spirals intertwining her body, contaminating her every pore, but she breathed in the putrid stench carelessly, her laughter lost in the smog surrounding her. Entirely dead to the world, her head lolled back and her eyes darted around the ceiling, suddenly suspicious.

Lipgloss-stained cigarettes littered the floor and ash formed a fine coating on everything. She cut a line and took yet another hit; anything to part her from reality. Instantly the throbbing of her head, the constant pricking of her unforgiving subconscious was numbed and a wave of euphoria hit her. She laughed, then screamed as blinding happiness shifted to blinding anger.

Her fingers gripped the roots of her hair, then were slowly extracted, taking with them clumps of fiery red hair. Face contorted in pain, she took pleasure in her own suffering and her mouth twisted upwards in a self-deprecating sneer. Her hands were clammy and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled as fear began to seep through her. There were voices. Somewhere... inside her, trying to break free. They were eating away incessantly at her conscience and with each layer of fine white powder, they screamed even louder.

She took a deep breath. Smoke caught in her throat and tore at her blackened lungs. She grabbed a bottle beside her and drank away the pain. As the foul liquid slicked her throat, her heart beat faster, and felt like it was bursting through her ribs. In agony, she ripped open her shirt and frantically scratched at her chest, trying to get it out. Her perfectly manicured nails quickly split the skin, and blood seeped down her fingers. When she felt bone below the pads of her fingertips, the pain stopped.

Closing her dead eyes, her fingers sought out another means of stilling her painful heart. They happened upon a knife, unassuming in size, but deadly in purpose. Still the screaming continued.