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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Flash fiction about a young woman struggling with addiction.

Submitted: July 31, 2013

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Submitted: July 31, 2013



Her eyes open but the rest of her body is still asleep. She panics. Unsure of where she is, who she is with, the time, or even the day. She isn't sure of much of anything anymore. Her head is pounding; the sound of her slow heart beat rings gratefully in her ears, as if they almost didn't make it through the night. Pressing her eyes tight together she prays for the pain to stop. She pushes her cold palm hard against her forehead.

She lifts to a sitting position, regretting the decision to move, along with many others. Her head spins, and she tries to keep up as she looks around the room. She sees familiar medals and trophies from prouder days, she sighs with relief. I'm home, she thinks.

She closes her heavy eye lids and slips back between the covers. She shivers as she wraps her cold bony arms around her rigid rib cage. She runs her fingers down the prominent bones as she thinks back to the tan curves that once made up her body. Eyes closed, she feels around the jungle of blankets for the only llife line she has left. Her fingers press against something hard and cold. She lets out a breath. With one press of a button the angry brightness of the screen burns her eyes; she rubs them as she groans. Once she can focus on what the screen says she sees that she has crashed again. Wednesday, she thought. Knowing that nobody is around, she lets herself be scared. The last day she remembers is Monday, and even that is a little hazy.

She is overcome with an overwhelming thirst, one that she knows well. She feels a sudden sense of urgency. She knows she will do anything to quench this thirst. She looks to her bed side and finds exactly what she needs. She reaches for the small orange container, twists off the lid, and prepares herself for another plunge. She looks at her palm and sees the only friend she has left. She places the small white pill to her lips. She can taste its chalky consistency before it even hits her tongue. She was a smart girl once, and for a second she hesitates knowing that next time she might not wake up. She closes her eyes, and hears nothing. She has no one, she knows that. Her stomach aches and she cures herself with the only thing she knows. She swallows the pill, and for a second she doesn't feel so alone.

© Copyright 2017 Hanna Foster. All rights reserved.

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