I once was happy. I really was. I mean, I'm not completely miserable.

But I only smile when I'm high.

What's the point of living when there's nothing left to live for? When your entire life has become ? But I can only be high for so long, after awhile my temporary happiness fades away like a dying star. Then life becomes reality.

Inhaling the white powder like air, I feel the familiar rush to my head.  A single tear rushes down my cheek and I let it, staring at my pathetic face in the bathroom mirror.

One after the other, the tears never seem to stop. The bruises all over my body dully ached, and my heart was racing.

He was waiting for me. He was drunk off his , ready to beat me with whatever was nearby.

"Book! Where the hell are you?!"

He was home.