Complicated Like That

Untitled Part 15

11pm.

She lays in her bed desperately trying to sleep. A cold breeze fills the room, sinking into her skin as goosebumps rise. She breathes heavily, trying to contain herself. It isn't long before the first tear falls. First one in months. She had grown accustomed to his disappearance. Months of zero contact forced her to accept the horrid truth. All he wanted was for them to live separate lives, for her to forget everything that happened between them and for her to accept all of this. She was devastated at first. 

Lost. Damaged. Alone.

But it was short lived. For a new addiction gave her company in her fortress of loneliness. The agonising, heart wrenching days became hard weeks that evolved into empty months of time that just passed ... And now finally, the first born of her sorrow crawled out of her eye and plummeted into the soft fabric of her bed sheets. 

She was in denial. She was fine, good even. No one would have said any different. No one except the girl in the mirror, of course. The tear caught her off guard. Her throat swelled up as she refused to succumb to the aftermath of her bottled-uo pain. She fisted her duvets. Physically and emotionally fighting this horrendous emotion prying from her soul. But she was weak. 

Mind you, she was the most powerful, sweet creature to exist. A flaming body brewed from the galaxies mankind could never reach. An embodiment of endurance, pillar of strength and yet the root of all that is pure and innocent. As with all powerful beings, she had a fatal flaw - love. And in her battle with love, she always lost ... always.

Raging tears fell from her eyes. Streams of sorrow, heartbreak and anger flowed onto her sheets and stained them. Soft sobs escaped her lips, lost in the cold air of her dark room. She let herself go for a moment. Thinking that this will just be another step towards her reincarnation. The spark that will ignite the explosion and from those hell flames, her amber wings shall emerge and a Phoenix shall rise in her glorious redemption. But she was wrong. 

There were no more steps to take. She decided that some company will do her good. She slowly rose from her bed. Moonlight peeking through the window of her otherwise pitch black room. She could see just well enough to grab her escape and lean against the wall. The cold brick wall sent chills up her back. She grabs her phone, pressing the home button to see the time. 

12am.

She stared out the window, silent but in pain. Her blank eyes focused on nothing and so the story of her rehabilitation began ...

She grabbed the lighter, clicking it and intently watching the flame that burned. He was like this flame. Just enough to fuel her but not enough to warm her, to guide her way or brighten her life. And every time he left, she was swallowed by darkness, eaten alive by loneliness, mauled by depression. She sighed. She placed her new best friend onto her lips. Cupped her left hand around the lighter as she brought it closer to her face and inhaled deeply. 

The flame moved fiercely. Molten tobacco looking like molten lava in this darkness. Crawling through the end of the cigarette, lighting it as the red flame travelled down. Thick smoke of tar and nicotine filled her cavities. She inhaled again, allowing this toxic mixture to enter her lungs and terminate her cells. One cigarette at a time, she grew closer and closer to her demise.