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Desperate times call for desperate measures In the top drawer of my dresser is a little white medicine box I keep it for ti It’s a holdover from the bad old days I roll a pin-thin joint and s it I rarely smoke these days I don’t even re, gave up cigarettes, gave up pot, gave up a lot of other shit when I decided to get ht But every rare once in a while, a little bit of weed is a necessity I pinch off the cherry and stow the kit, and I’ ahen I hear it

Strained, high-pitched hu with every fiber of her being not to sob, teeth clenched I can al back and forth, or curled into a fetal position

I’ her in my arainst , every ers, cup her cheek, feel the tension in her jaw The noise is coed up from the bottom of her soul It breaks my heart Wrecks me

“Nell Look at ainst my chest, as if she wants to climb between s “Okay, fine Don’t look at rip

“It’s not okay,” I tell her This gets her attention; it’s not what she was expecting “You don’t have to be okay”

“What do you want froed, desperate

“I want you to let yourself be broken Let yourself hurt”

She shakes her head again “I can’t If I let it out, it’ll never stop”

“Yes it will”

“No it won’t It won’t There’s too much” She judders, sucks in a fast breath and shakes her head in a fierce denial “It’ll never stop co out, and I’ll be empty”

She tries to climb off me, and I let her She tumbles off the bed, falls to her hands and knees on the floor, scrambles away and stumbles into the bathroom I hear her vomit, retch, and stifle a sob I ot her forear so hard trickles of blood drip where nails meet flesh

Pain to replace pain

I step in front of her, take her chin in my hand and force her to look at ht of her blood makes me panic I can’t watch her hurt herself I wrestle with her hand, but she won’t let go, and if I force her, she’ll only hurt herself worse

I need to knohat’s driving this girl What’s devouring her

“Tell h and raw in the unlit bathroolass

“He’s dead”

“That’s not enough”