TITLE: Broken Wings
GENRE: Women's fiction
The only leg I knew how to stand on anymore was the rolled fifty-dollar bill up my nose. But that high doesn’t last very long and, before you know it, you’re not standing; you’re lying on a cold tile floor, wasted and depressed. How many times have I been here?
From deep inside my chest I felt myself crying out, reaching out through the darkness that held me prisoner. God, if you’re there, I don’t want to be this person anymore. Everything’s a mess. I can't find my way out. Please, you have to make it right because I can't do this anymore.
Truthfully, I didn’t want to live anymore, but killing myself was a worse sin than licking a dealer’s nasty just to earn a little buzz. I was already in Hell and the Catholic in me knew suicide was just a way to guarantee things wouldn’t get better. I still had one brain cell left telling me that wasn’t the way. But that one brain cell was fighting a losing battle. There was no answering voice in my head, no Divine spark. I listened to the hollow silence and fell into unconsciousness with vomit and tears drying on my face.
I felt a kick and swam back to consciousness, hearing David muttering the usual string of curses.
“Goddamn it, Rae. I hate tripping over you. Can't you pass out somewhere else?” He shoved me aside with his foot, giving me a clear view of the underside of the toilet bowl.