Relapse

The room was dark and a bit cold. A small space heater sat in the corner of the little confinement. It hardly gave off even a meaning of heat though. He stood over the soft glow of a single candle that sat on a desk, his one fist clenched tightly at this site. The other, open, palm up, with a present waiting so patiently for him to give up all of his morals. His sense of being, his inner self. If only he’d give up his soul for only a moment.

He stared in the mirror for a few moments, analyzing the pathetic being staring back at him with bright green eyes. His skin clung to his bones tightly, bruised and pale. His eyes were sunken in, making him look more like a skeleton than a living, breathing, human being. Maybe life wasn’t something he had any longer. Maybe he was already amongst the dead, he surely didn’t feel alive. Not anymore at least. His cheeks were stained vaguely with dry tears. His gaze tore away from the dirty mirror, away from the distorted figure cast before him with that orange glow around him from the little flame. He stared at the colorful pill in his hand. This would make it all go away. This would make him forget about the world around him, make him forget about her. About him, about everything he had once loved. If only for a moment or two. It was better than nothing.

He tilted his head up and threw the pill down his throat and looked up once more. Ashamed that, once again, he threw himself away. The bed found him as he collapsed and took a deep breath. It quickly took over him, and even the candle could no longer give him light. The noises of his friends conversing and drinking upstairs began to fade around him as he fell deeper and deeper. This was an escape. A way out of everything that made him the monster he had become. It was better than nothing, yet nothing was seeming more and more welcome as the time went by.

The heater clicked a few times and the flame eagerly licked light around the walls. Never giving up their purpose, when he had lost his, so long ago.

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