Lit

A Story by Adalia

TOTALLY NOT DONE short story i'm working on

-flicckh-

the flame.

she held her cigarette and had her back pressed against the cold bricks of the wall. her leather jacket was tattered and she was near the club, about a block away. she dropped the f*g and stepped on it with her grey Doc Marten.

she started to take a few steps forward, excited to get into the venue. she missed seeing music at her favourite place; she'd been on vacation for the past month.

she was nearly out of the dark alley, when she felt a cold, strong grip on her wrist. she had a hand clamped over her mouth. she knew that her attacker was significantly stronger.

-silence-

the warmth.

she didn't fight. she was helpless. she was thrown into a car and she closed her eyes, completely quiet.

They arrived at his house. He threw her over his shoulder, and went through the door. She was thrown onto a bed. He sat in a chair.

He held out a pipe. She didn't know what it was. She'd never touched drugs, and only smoked cigs about once every other day. But she took it.

-wshh-

the burnout

She sucked in, the pipe in her mouth. She closed her eyes as the warm, tingly sensation filled her. She took another hit, and another.

The man smiled.