Too Late

Age Nineteen

At age nineteen,
Hannah had moved out of her mother's house and was sleeping on Kenni's couch.
Kenni was a tattoo artist and her favorite practice skin belonged to her little sister.
Everyone was expecting something like this to come from Hannah. She tried to be nice, and she tried to be good, but she acted too much like Kenni.
Rebecca had done nothing with her life. She was still living with her mother and stepfather. She claimed she was waiting for her chance, but nothing happened.
Kenni was away with her newest boyfriend, who was at least forty. Hannah was alone.
Hannah set on the dirty bathroom tiles of her sister's bathroom. She looked at everything in front of her.
Directly in front of Hannah was the last of her heroine and she swore she wouldn't take any of Kenni's. There was also less than an ounce of crack and two broken beer bottles.
Hannah couldn't help but cry. She had so much going through her head and she couldn't hold it in. A line of curse words left her mouth and she stood up. She tried her best to step over the broken bits of the bottles, and didn't even feel it when a piece stuck in her foot.
She had so much heroine going through her veins, she couldn't feel an inch of her body and could barely breathe. She blinked rapidly in the mirror, trying to see herself behind her colored hair that was going unbrushed.
"And they all lived happily ever after, didn't they?" Hannah recited off of one of her tattoos.
Hannah Cohen wasn't like many drug addicts. She wasn't trying to be rebellious, she was just trying to be accepting, and she was one of the unlucky few that took it too far.