The needle pierces a vein for the first time, shoots a stream of murky chemicals into the bloodstream, and retracts, leaving a single mark on an otherwise unblemished arm. April's eyelids droop as the drug hits her system almost immediately, faster than anything else she's ever used. Her friend grins, says, "I told you so," and immediately prepares more for herself, using the same needle. April doesn't give a shit, lost in this new drug and this perfect, blissful high - who can care about sharing needles when you feel like this? She could do anything like this. She could conquer the world.
The needle pierces a vein, and Roger gasps a little, surprised at the sharp pain, however brief. He prefers his drugs not hurt so much, truthfully. April strokes his arm gently, and leans in to kiss his forehead as her thumb depresses the plunger of the syringe. He shivers a little, because it feels odd in his arm, but April withdraws the needle then and whispers, "It's worth the pinch, baby, trust me."
And because it's April, because he trusts her over all else, because she trusted him when they first got into all of this shit, he believes her.
The needle pierces a vein, pulls out quickly, and is tucked into a purse in the flash of an eye, like magic. A quick hit between sets, and Roger grins fiercely at April, trying to ignore Mark's glare from across the club. "Thanks, baby," he murmurs, kisses her, then bounds back up on stage, all energy and enthusiasm.
April turns around grinning, her eyes a little dazed, her smile a little wavery, and catches her brother's gaze, both angry and fearful. She stares at him for a second, frozen, her heart in her throat, and then her smile vanishes all at once.
The needle pierces a vein, after several tries with shaking hands and an unpleasant ache in her bones. April lets out a breath, all but collapsing back onto her bed and barely remembering to remove the needle from her arm first. It's immediate relief, no more pain, no more pangs, and God, how had she managed to stay away from this for so long?
She'd tried. She really had. It's just too hard for her, the hurt and ache and longing, all of it, and she can't quit, not again. April knows she'll die with the drug in her system.
The needle pierces a vein, in an arm covered with so many track marks that one more won't stand out in the least, and empties pretty poison into the bloodstream, far too much to survive (and she'd meant it that way).
The needle falls to the floor, and is still lying there, innocent, when she decides to open her veins to see if there's some telling sign of ugly death come to play, some darkness, some visible taint to find.
No one notices the needle when they find her body.