Hell found me, as I hid under the stairwell. It often finds me, and I often welcome it. The sweet taste of release, it was too good to resist. Too good to resist even with the vicious backlash waiting for afterwards. Ads screaming the dangers, even the damn box says it's up to no good. But I can't deny that beautiful reddish orange color at the end of the stick. That was hell, burning its way into my system. Exhaling the subtle gray air, disgusting anyone standing too close, that was heaven, departing from my lungs. We're a dying breed, us hellish beings. My eyes slide shut, enhancing my sense of taste, oh wondrous gift of cancer, fill me up. Drag after drag and I'm never satisfied. Slow suicide, never satisfied 'til I'm dead.

I toss the end away, taking steps into the sunlight, breathing in sweet oxygen. People venture past, mumbling about black lungs and an ashy smell. I tilt my head back, staring into the welcoming blue sky. Thinking of the poison coursing through my throat, into my blood. I exhaled deadly carbon, polluting the air, opening that great ozone. We're exposed to the sun, melting where we stood. And I can only breathe when hell is satisfied. Hell is never satisfied.