Title: Shattered
Characters: Sara, Junkie Boyfriend
Rating: R
Summary: She was just as broken as her reflection in the shattered mirror.

Author's Notes: This little piece takes place shortly after Sara watched the kid on the bike die during her Junkie past.

"No! No! No! No! No!"

Sara leaned her back against the head board of the bed she sat on, banging the back of her head onto the piece of wood. Her boyfriend crawled onto the bed in front of her and gently took her shoulders in his hands.

"Shhh, calm down, Sara," he whispered as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It's not your fault."

Sara shook her head and sniffled. "I could have saved him...I could have saved him." Tears fell from her eyes and rolled down her already moist cheeks. She leaned her head back on the headboard, taking in a deep breath and shutting her eyes tight. "I should have saved him."

Her boyfriend watched as the tears kept rolling down her face. He then leaned over to grab a needle and a cloth strap from the end table beside the bed. "I know what will make you feel better."

Sara opened her eyes when she felt something wrap around her arm and found her boyfriend tying the strap just above her elbow. He prepped the needle and was about to jab it in her arm, but Sara slapped it away.

"No, I don't want it."

He picked up the needle from the wrinkled sheets of the bed. "It will make you feel better. I promise."

Sara shook her head but she did nothing to stop him from plunging the needle into her flesh. The effects of the drug began to kick in and she began to feel light headed. The pains of her guilt began to numb away and she found herself calming down.

"See? All better now."

Her boyfriend grinned at her. Sara nodded and swallowed back her tears. He then took a hold of the bottom of her shirt and began lifting it up. She made no move to resist him. Tossing the shirt aside, he pushed her down flat on the bed, laying haphazard kisses all over her milky white body as he set to work on her pants...

--

It was dark when Sara woke up. Her boyfriend's arm was just lying on top of her chest. He wasn't holding her. It just lay on top of her as if she was a part of the bed, as if she was nothing. She slowly pushed the heavy limb aside and her boyfriend stirred in his slumber as he tucked the arm under the pillow his head rested on. But he didn't wake up, he kept on sleeping. Sara watched him sleep for a few seconds before sighing. She untangled her bare legs from the bed sheets and slipped out of bed. The cold winter air made her shiver and Sara moved to wrap her arms around her naked body.

Her hand touched something soft and she found that the cloth strap was still tied tightly around her arm. She ripped it off, throwing it to the ground and stared at it for a few seconds. She shut her eyes, trying to blink back the tears threatening to fall, and took a deep breath of air to calm herself. It didn't work.

Letting out a sigh, Sara began to walk to the bathroom, dragging her feet on the carpet and scooping up a T-Shirt along the way. She slipped the shirt on and it dropped just below her buttocks, providing her little comfort from the cold air. But Sara didn't really care.

She made her way to the sink, turning the knobs and splashed some water on her face. When she looked up into the mirror in front of her, she didn't like what she saw. She was a complete wreck. Her hair was tangled and tousled, large dark circles were beneath her eyes, and she looked pale. Really, really pale.

Sara didn't like how she looked. She didn't like it all. Screaming, she slammed her fists into the glass. The mirror shattered from the force and bits of glass flew down onto the bathroom counter. Some were stuck in the flesh of her hands. Drops of blood trickled down her fists. Sara watched as the crimson droplets fell into the sink and rolled down the drain.

It didn't hurt. The only pain she could feel was the pain of what she has become. A druggie. A junkie. A pitiful little girl who was on a deep spiral downward.

Sara looked up at her reflection once again. It was broken, fragmented, and bits and pieces were missing here and there. She was just as broken as her reflection in the shattered mirror.

But unlike the mirror, she could be fixed.