The hum of fluorescent lighting rang in my ears, echoing through my skull like a train rumbling through my brain. Sounds of sixteen-wheelers pulling off and onto the road grumbled outside, sending shudders through my body and shaking the windows of the building. My good eye scanned the rows of snacks nonchalantly, and I walked with my hands in my pockets. Waiting. Pretending to not be addicted. Faking not going through withdrawal.

Then when I saw the smokes, I lunged hungrily at the rack. Hell yeah; they still had a few Marlboros left. My favorite.

I tried my best to not full-on sprint to the register when I picked out two packs and fished the appropriate amount of bills from my wallet. A bleach-white hedgehog was waiting for me, his quills long and greasy and down in front of his eyes like hair. His nametag pronounced his name as 'Jared,' but I knew better.

"Hey, Jarhead," I greeted with a small smile as I placed the cigs on the counter.

His ice-colored eyes flickered as he snapped out of his daydream and back to reality. "Oh. Hey, Ria."

I let out a tiny sigh of relief as he moved to ring me up and feed my habit. Jared had been my friend for as long as I could remember, and my fence for cigs for the past couple of years. I thanked God he wasn't too involved with conversing this time around.

That was until he looked at me. "Jesus," he gasped sharply, fully alert now. "What the hell happened?"

I felt my cheeks burn amber. The eye dad had picked the night before swelled with pain. But I forced a chuckle. Told a lie. "You should see the other guy."

Jared gave me a stern look.

What the hell did you do to your hand?

"Look, I fell," I insisted. "Get off my back."

He huffed and shook his head. His tired, stoner-eyes flared with cold fire like the ends of dying fags. "Like hell you did."

I didn't do anything to it.

Then why the hell is it such a goddamned mess?

"Piss-off and ring me up," I snarled.

"Yeah, yeah," Jared grumbled. He moved back and away from the counter for a moment, turning and taking the smokes with him. "Hold on. I gotta' get something."

"Okay." I stared down at the filthy porcelain flooring of the gas station store. "Hurry up."

Are you going to tell me what you did to your hand, or do I have to ground you?

Ground me? I winced in agony as a stinging sensation shot through my eye. Ground me?

I shouldn't have laughed.

"Alright," the white hedgehog spoke, yanking me out of the hellfire and back to purgatory. "Here you go."

I blinked at him when he handed me a plastic grocery bag full of the Marlboros I'd picked as well as a can of beer. Perspiration and bits of ice dripped from its tinny shell.

"You know I don't drink, Jarhead," I told him, taking the bag and ignoring the alcohol.

"Shut up and hold still," he commanded, suddenly standing up on his tiptoes and leaning over the countertop. His tall, lanky body easily cleared the obstacle, and his arm reached out with the Bud and pressed it to the black-blue spot where my eyeball usually was. Gently. Kindly.

I felt my face go pink at the contact. But I could pass it off as being cold, so I didn't worry about being seen blushing. "Thanks," I managed, barely above a whisper.

"Keep that cold," he ordered, disregarding my gratitude. Because that's what friends do. "You don't want that shit getting any bigger."

"Yeah." I nodded and took the beer. Pressed it to my eye until it was numb. "Yeah. Gotcha."

...

Darkness

I tapped my pen against the paper, causing a flapping noise to erupt from the loose page. What the hell rhymes with darkness? Poetry had been my escape from life for as long as I could recall, but even then it was a pain in the ass to have to think up words that rhymed with what you were already thinking. I know you can free-verse, but... God, it just doesn't look right.

artist harmless harshness

I frowned. None of those really fit. I chewed anxiously on my pen, longing for a smoke but knowing it would have been damned stupid to have one in the house. My room might have been upstairs, and there might have been a window next to my bed, but there was no way in hell I was risking a drag right next door to my parent's room.

carcass

Hey. That one might work. I scribbled it down.

Lying in my darkness

Cold and rotting carcass

I leaned back into my purple pillow, and the mattress shifted just enough to send the can of beer next to me tumbling into my knee. With a sigh, I picked it up and turned it over in my hand. What the hell did he see in these things? Did they taste good? Based on the way they stunk...

Disgusting-smelling starkness

Daddy doesn't mean to do it, sweetheart.

Mother says it's harmless

He's just going through a rough patch, that's all.

We both hide from his harshness

It'll all be over soon, honey.

My fingers were trembling. The ink stained and scrawled the paper as I shivered violently, fighting the tears. It was going to sting like hell with this black eye.

Trust me.

I wept quietly, slashing dark lines in the shape of letters across the page. Painted my heart in the form of black, cold blood. Then I crumpled it up and rocketed it away with a balled-up fist, throwing it as far into my closet as I could throw. Then I sobbed for a good ten minutes, my eye burning with every drop that fell.

BUT IT'S ALL JUST FUCKING POINTLESS