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The Needle
The walls of the plain room were closing in and shadows painted along the carpet were creeping along, slowly making their way towards her.
Gasping, she curled up into a vulnerable ball.
“Go away!” She finally screamed. “Leave me alone!”
But it was no use. They kept inching forward, as if they didn’t hear the desperation or plea in her scratchy voice.
The air around her was cold and smelled faintly of dirty socks.
As the phantoms moved closer and closer to her, she quickly scampered to a corner of the room.
Her blood shot eyes became larger and crazier with every passing second. Her hands, painted with chipped black fingernail polish, tugged and pulled at her greasy hair.
“Stop it! Somebody, help me!” She yelled desperately.
But no one heard, or cared.
She released her hair. With shaking fingers, she quickly reached into her pocket and produced a dirty looking needle. She shed her ratty jacket in two seconds; revealing her scars, blisters and faint bruises. They ran along her arms, legs, and were basically all over her body.
She slowly pressed the needle into her arm and closed her eyes. The rush; which wasn’t as effective as the first time, was still there. But it had died out. Deserted her. Just like every dream she had, or like every friend or family member she had ever loved. She was completely alone in this world now.
Finally, the ghosts and creepers had left.
But she was still in her own living hell.
Yes, this is short. But I haven’t written anything in a while and I felt bad.
And I know, this is different from my usual cheesy romances, but I’ve always wanted to write something like this. Thanks for reading! <33
(AND DON’T DO DRUGS.)
