Nikki was a slut.
Night after night, I watched as she jumped from one person to the next, taunting me, knowing that no matter what she did that I would always come back.
Over the years, she had become a number of things:
A life-line.
An addiction.
A poison.
And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't escape her. She was in me, engulfing everything in her path until there was nothing left but ash.
I had almost resisted the urge to call out to her this time; almost made it through the night without her. But then she walked by and the scent of her infiltrated my senses, and I didn't have a choice.
Looking up at the red head, I maintained eye contact while placing a cigarette in my mouth. Naturally, with each pull I took, I felt disgusted with myself, but I couldn't stop.
It was the only thing keeping me from losing it.
Averting my eyes, I looked down at the small cancer stick in my hands, frowning when my thoughts began to flood with images of the redhead that wouldn't leave me alone, and I grit my teeth together after I blew out the smoke.
Nikki, Nikki, Nikki. . .
