Bleed out. You can let go now..

She swept her right hand along her features as the sensation flooded through her veins, leaving her head reeling and flesh heated while her muscles unraveled within her frame leaving her world itself to spin. She glanced down at the needle in her arm and eventually plucked it free, tossing it into a recepticle before she spilled a bag of white along the table. A razor in her right hand, she chopped it up finely before she routed it into delicate lines for her. One line. Two lines. Three lines. Four lines and her world itself reeled and ascended until she couldn't feel her face. She couldn't feel anything. Couldn't feel the hot salt drizzling down her cheeks, or even the way of which her fingers shifted. Anything was better than feeling the way she did right now. It was a mask that always washed away at the end of the day, a temporary fix to a larger problem that had been eating at her for over a year since she'd managed to fall in love with that man. She peered down into the glass surface of the table that she was sat on the floor in front of. She looked like shit, hair disheveled mess along her shoulders and makeup smudged, lip cut from having gotten into a fight not too long ago. She looked upon herself for a lingering moment, only to ponder certain things. "Yeah... you're right. I wouldn't choose me either." she finally murmured, only to force herself to stand up along shakey legs. She nearly staggered thanks to her stilettos that she had forgotten herself to be wearing. She stood up at last though, only to move into another room and grab down a little box from the top shelf of her bookshelf. Opening it up she grasped the silver container within it, snapped it open and plucked up one of the joints in it. She wanted to sleep. She knew she needed to, but at the same time, she didn't quite feel as if she was done. Impatient, she knew plenty of things about the drugs that she took and yet it never stopped her from pushing herself to the edge. There was the desire for that one kind of euphoria that she was looking for. She'd only ever felt it when around one person and he was no longer here. Drugs got her close to that point, but it never quite got her there. She had been close a time or two, but was still attempting to figure out the recipe for euphoria by experimenting on herself. Why not though? Nobody else cared if she overdosed or harmed herself and the only creature she currently lived for, had four legs and a wagging tail. She needed to forget. It wasn't that she wanted to. God knew she basked in those memories for ages, for they brought her joy. But she needed to forget and to let go for her own good. The pain she gained from it was immense, leaving her to feel completely undone. It felt as if Freddy Kreuger had stuck his spindly fingertips within her bosom and was dragging them down the joints of her ribs and breastbone, drilling his pinkie into her heart's arteries and she remembers it; she remembers what it's like to feel electricity trailing through her veins from the attempts of a doctor to bring her back. She remembers the surprise of it and the ache of knowing that she was still here. Remembers the tears she cried as she wailed in frustration when she laid upon that hospital bed under suicide watch with a guard at her door at all times. She remembers all of it, the hours she'd sleep and how she refused to wake up. She was tempted to do it again; to push herself to the point of no return, but a single glance at her canine and she remembered her promise. Men were frustrating, but regardless of how many her job required her to 'entertain' there had only ever been one of which caused her heart itself to pulse and race, rise, fall and melt into a beautiful mess. Maybe she loved that man so much that she got addicted to hurting, simply so that she didn't have to let him go. It was hard to tell. She knew; she knew he'd never be hers again and yet she always looked to him, her sun, moon and stars with eyes so full of love, adoration and hope that it could be possible. It would never happen. She knew it and yet she never wanted to accept it. It was the venom in her veins that she had grown to need. She'd gotten so used to the burn that it no longer effected her, even with her blood coagulating with each breath she took. Finding her way back to the sofa upon shakey legs she staggered and finally plucked up her little tray of cocaine and goodies before she made her way to her bedroom and set it down. She kicked off her heels, slipped out of her clothes and giggled for reasons not even she was sure about as she found herself left in her lingerie. For a moment she lost train of thought and was found swaying upon her limbs, trying to figure out where the thought went and what it had been in the first place. Eventually she found it though and moved to her closet, taking up the one treasured garment that she'd never throw away; the hulk t-shirt that he had worn that was far too big for her, but that she adored to pieces anyways. She took it out, but then snatched up another one that had the punisher upon it. She looked between them and eventually figured that The Punisher fit her best and gently lay the hulk t-shirt upon her dresser as she slipped into that punisher logo of a t-shirt. She'd always liked the comics of them growing up, but never gotten to really read them. She loved the story though. Punisher.. it echoes loudly through her mind and the woman's eyes roll back into her skull as she finallslimps into a rest upon her bed along her back. She stared up into the dots dappling her drop ceiling. She gazed at those dots that spackled the ceiling as if they were the stars of the universe, bearing answers of which she sought and yet here, out of her mind, she saw things that she didn't mean to see. She got lost in the dappling of it all and once again found herself feeling that sharp pain that rattled through her frame along her bosom. She blinked slowly as she covered her eyes with her right arm, whimper sounding in her gullet for a moment as again the hot streak of liquid salt drizzled down from her eyes and licked down her cheeks. Why did it have to hurt so much? She hated it. She didn't wanna focus on it at all. She wanted to be numb. She wanted to be happy. She didn't want to be here. Looking down at the tray of cocaine she eyes that pile of white, blinking slowly before she slowly rolled to push herself into a seat. Wiping her nose and her eyes again she sniffled hard and looked back at it. Plucking up the razor she again chopped the powder before dividing it into lines for herself carefully. It was in the midst of chopping it that she stared hard though, seeing the reflection of her fingertip along the razorblade. Something about it was off; something about it was beautiful and wretched, glorious and wonderful all at once. She halts her chopping, tugs that blade close and then eyed its sharp edge before taking it down along her left forearm. Another experiment? Always. Dragging the blade's sharp tip along her upper forearm, she left a horizontal cut along it that drizzled scarlet down her caramel flesh until the moment of which it dripped onto her bed sheets. She could care less because it wasn't as if she kept her sheets for long anyways. Looking back upon the cocaine, however, she took a delicate pinch of it onto the blade and gave a puff of air at it to splay it onto the bleeding cut. It was at that point that she simply dropped the razorblade back onto the tray and laid back upon the mangled sheets and stared up into the ceiling. She focused upon what she felt along her skin, within her and simply got lost in the spackling of that ceiling until it was too much for her. She could feel the way her flesh writhed or appeared to. She smiled softly as it all took over though. For a moment in time her heart didn't feel so pained. Her muscles and limbs were all numbed out. Taking up that joint from the tray, she lit it with a lighter and took one of the biggest hits from it that she could, only to hold it until her head again reeled, leaving her exhaling nearly nothing due to having held it in for too long and let it seep into her system. Her eyes fell to partial closure and she stared off into the room itself, looking at the blades of light as they hit the fabric of her bed, the little hairs she saw upon furniture, thanks to having a canine, and focused on what else she felt or heard. She could feel her heart in her eardrums, and it was that sound of which caught her in the next few minutes. The sound was soothing, but the sound was hers and she could tell it was racing. It was racing until the moment of which it slowed. Chicago's hand weilding that joint went limp and so did her body at last, leaving the scent of burning weed against metal to fill the air thanks to the cherry of her joint bearing into the silver tray. Her head rolled off to the left, dark locks of silk veiling her features in a mess that spilled over her eyes, cheek and lips. The last face she thought of before the dark began to grip and swallow her up, however, would and had always and would always be his though. Back of her mind someone speaks though. "It's okay. You can let go now." it whispers, and with that - she did.