Kara woke up to the sun prying through her blinds in a desperate attempt to alert her that her day should have begun hours ago. With a groan and a hand brought up to her throbbing head, she rolled over to glance at the stained coffee machine that told her it was already two forty-seven in the afternoon. She lay there for a moment, willing her lethargic body to obey her brain and roll out of bed. Mmmm coffee, she thought. The thought of the bitter caffeine-laced liquid was enough to gain control of her body. She rolled out of the bed and stumbled over to the machine, her head still throbbing. Shit, I drank too much last night. While preparing the machine and dry swallowing some Advil, she recalled the events from last night.
She had been a little farther gone than she had thought so parts of the night were gone from her memory. She had gone to the club with a few of her friends. She wasn’t exactly the type to go clubbing often but it had been the goth/fettish night and that had appealed to her greatly. Charlie had invited her so she figured she’d go regardless. There were candles and whips and a ridiculous amount of fishnets. The industrial music they had playing was a little light for her taste, but it still had the mind-numbing repetitive beats she so loved. She hadn’t danced much, though Charlie had gotten a dance out of her, preferring to sit at the table chain-smoking with her drink in hand. Nearly a pack later and a bill of $62.50 she had headed home with her friends.
Well, shit, she thought while picking her pants from last night up off the ground. She rustled through the pockets until she found the box of Marlboro 27s and pulled it out. She opened the box, and as she expected, it was as empty as her stomach. The coffee pot started gurgling and hissing as it choked on the last bits of liquid to be pulled through the grounds. She poured a continuous stream of the steaming brown liquid into a chipped mug and went to dig through her desk.
Below some old papers and paint canvases, she found a pack of Reds. She opened it and peered into an empty box, devoid of the sticks of white filled with chemicals and plant shreddings. Kara is an addict, constantly wanting and craving the smoke to fill her lungs. But it was so much more to her than just a nicotine buzz, so much more than just feeling the drag. She enjoyed smoking, she thought of it more as an addiction to smoking, rather than an addiction to the cigarettes. She found smoke beautiful, and loved watching people smoke even though it made her crave one all the more. She thought the most beautiful thing on this plane of existence was watching a deviant woman slowly exhale a stream of heavy smoke from her gradually parting lips. She needed to feed her addiction. She pulled on a ragged pair of jeans; loose in the butt from constant wear. Over her head she pulled on a plain black shirt she had gotten on sale at a craft supply store. She then grabbed her patched...