“So you’re a drug addict?”

There was a blank silence as this realization hit her in the face. Her world stood still for a moment, her face lying in the same position as it had for several minutes. Her eyes were cloudy and dark as he said nothing, staring down at the heroin in his hands. He did nothing but stand there, looking down, his cheeks turning a furious red.

“Don’t blush!” she yelled. The moment of being able to speak was over. Now she was left, panic arising in her, her face crumpling. It didn’t seem real. Her heart pounded in her chest, knocking fiercely. She did nothing but stand there.

“I’m sorry,” he said meekly. She hated his words. But now, all she could do was take a shaky breath, the realization ruffling her brain’s thoughts. Her head began to hurt as her body began to shake with fear.

“I can’t…handle this!”

She then turned away, her black hair rushing out behind her. Tears marched blindly down her pale cheeks, her hands wobbling uncontrollably. Her brain ran with questions, racing along her brain’s thoughts.

Why?

How?

How could she not have noticed?

But now, standing there, all she could do was listen to those questions, torture her broken soul. Her heart gave her a pang, causing her to collapse on the ground, the tears dripping to the ground silently. Her breaths came out weak and shaky as the world collapsed on top of her, sitting on the carpeted ground.

She wanted to hit something. The rage was a fire, burning in her chest. It was an untamed horse, galloping in a blind maze of confusion. But she didn’t feel like a wild horse now, sitting her apartment, her eyes gazing down below at the bustling city. She wished that nobody was happy, that she didn’t have to be the only one sitting there, tears cascading down from her depressed eyes, her body still shaking. Her heart seemed lifeless, as did she, thumping just occasionally—carelessly, almost. The picture of him with the heroin held in his sweaty palm lay imprinted on her brain, traumatizing her. All she could do was watch, unmoving and her imagination swimming wild and free, her mind whispering to her things that she never wanted to hear.

The rage boiled with the sadness just made her feel confused. Of course, confused would come along with the package. Why was just a question that sat there, wondering out loud, shrugging and not moving. “Why” was there to stay, she knew. The rage-fire began to collapse her confused feelings and depression, cutting through the emotions. Now it burned across, scorching the feelings, attacking. Now it was just rage. She stood up, wild and freakishly insane. Her wobbling arms reached out, grasping the first thing they felt. Her arms reached up, throwing it to the opposite wall. A crazy happiness filled her. As she stumbled around her apartment, finding things, throwing and screaming, scaring the neighbors, all that she could think about was him. Him.

“Darn him!”

“Darn you!”

“I hate him!”

“I hate you!”

She had always had anger management problems, ever since her mother had dragged her from the safe walls of her wooden house, taking her to the shrink. It had been diagnosed as anger management, pulling her into a twister of classes and one-on-one sessions. A “normal life” was left forgotten, somewhere far back on the road of life. So now, screaming and running around her room, she just forgot those days, those breathing exercizes and nagging voices—now, she just ran. She ran away from life’s problems, from him and his drugs, and everything. She ran.

These memories weren’t supposed to be released. Sitting in the after-work of her anger, the memories flashed before her teary eyes.

A small girl, about the age of ten, sitting under a cherry-blossom tree, her eyes shinig happily at a bouquet of flowers in her hand, a boy peeking at her patiently, waiting for her response.

A teenager, awkwardly sitting next to a boy on a couch, a voice whispering in her ear, “Welcome to your first make-out party, Emerald.”

A teenager scrambling blindly out of the room full of kissing people, her eyes squeezed tight.

A teenager, tripping over wooden steps, sent sprawling. But instead of hitting the ground, to arms catching her protectively around her waist.

A teenager sharing her first kiss on the patio of a “make-out party.”

A woman, her eyes shining with an unexplainable joy, her soul floating with the most intense happiness she had ever felt as a man kneeled in front of her on one knee, his leg bent crookedly and a ring held in his hand.

Those were memories that she didn’t want to think about anymore, because they were gone, disappearing into the mist of her life. They had always been kept, when she was content with life, somewhere in the middle of her brain—not the back, not the front, but somewhere in-between, somewhere where she didn’t hang onto often, but somewhere where she could gaze into with starry eyes, sometimes late at night. But they were to be thrown away now. But here they were, flashing before her eyes.

She wished they wouldn’t come. She was in the market, the people bustling and rushing around her, just-bought food held in her hands. She knew she couldn’t see him for a long time, until she got over this fire, extinguished it. She couldn’t touch his skin or look into his eyes or even hear his deep, gruff voice until she sprayed the rage-fire with at least a sprinkle of calm water. That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, she realized, trudging back to her apartment.

The phone shrieked. Who else would it be? Of course it was him, he was the only one in this world that would know to call her at 2 a.m. The scribbled-upon pages of a notebook spread out before her, her hand pausing directly above the page. Her glided over the table and stopped short on the ringing phone. She took a deep, shaky breath, attempting to steady herself. She didn’t know what she would say.

She gulped. Then, she picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

As soon as she heard the response, she knew she should have known. That was the first thing that came to mind…she should have known. The voice from the other end sounded gruff and uncaring to her, although it was choked and squeaky.

And then, her next reaction was to smile. A smile flashed on her solemn lips. A joke. No, she realized, punishing herself in her whirling mind, you’re being stupid. Her mind spun like a tornado, rushing fiercely, bulldozing any happy thoughts or feelings she might have had. She slammed down the pencil that was in her hand, breaking it. Her soul ripped in two, painfully making her yell. Even her brain seemed to wobble as her face crinkled and crumpled, collapsing.

Then she felt nothing. Her emotions were pushed aside, just like that, by herself. She paused, stillness filling the air around here. Silence soothed her like a bubble bath.

She felt nothing.

Nothing.