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She was exhilarated when she got a hold of it. I remember her chanting with excitement and giggling profusely after buying it from some low-life living on the streets. She kept insisting me to try it out, but I politely declined her offer with an awkward smile.

"You're missing out," she would tell me as we sat down on her plushy bed. Oddly the bed didn't feel as soft like it did or as safe like I found it to be for the past ten years.

As I was gazing up at the ceiling, the smell of smoke contaminated the air. I looked over and saw that she was holding up a lighter under a spoon with a small white lump piled on top of it, turning it into a dark bronze. She must've been really excited to try it out.

"Are you sure about this?" I would ask.

She would nod as she took a syringe the man gave her with the purchase and collected some of the obscure liquid. A smile would creep onto her face as she would stick the needle into her arm and feel the substance rush into her veins, giving her a burning sensation. The feeling, she told me, made her feel alive and invincible. That feeling she felt came to an end when it brought her so much pain. She didn't expect to crave for more, and she didn't expect it to take control of her life.

After one month going by, she would find herself running up to her bedroom and lifting up her mattress to get what her body hungered for. She would then open her drawer, which contained the lighter, syringe and spoon, and inject her body with more poison. Soon came the second month and she was still under its spell. More and more she injected herself with the one thing that was killing her on the inside and couldn't help but endure the torture she couldn't escape from. She suffered so much that she dropped out of school and disappeared without a trace.

Months then became years. During those years I haven't seen my friend, but all of that changed until that one day.

I was on my way home after work and I saw her lying on the frigid sidewalk. The first thing I did was kneel by her side and rested my hand on her cold cheek. Her eyes - big, round, and now blank - were left open, forcing her to watch her own life slip away. It finally happened. She was dead. It killed her.

A/N: I made this last year for AP English. Surprisingly, my teacher gave it an A - meaning maybe she liked it? I don't know, lol. She is hard to read sometimes. :) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this small piece of mine.

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