Her

She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled; or at least came as close to smiling as she had in years. The contents of that box were precious cargo. They held her peace, joy and ability to function. She preferred a higher dosage but whatever she could get her hands on at any given time would suffice. Tonight it would be 1 mg, which was second to highest for her pill of choice, Xanax. Some chemist out there knew exactly what he was doing when he created such a tiny piece of heaven.

She usually picked up her hit from the same dealer but he was out and she knew she couldn't wait till morning so she bused downtown and hit up the corners till she ran into someone who could help her. The dealer had been a scrawny white boy in over sized hooded jacket and pants that hung low enough to reveal most of his secrets. He seemed sketchy but at that point it didn't even matter. Even if they were counterfeit there was a chance that they would have enough of the active drug in them to get her a little bit high. She hadn't ever got counterfeits before and she had been buying for a long time.

It started with her dad. He was prescribed Xanax when she was in the 10th grade. She would have never known what they were except that her boyfriend at the time saw the bottle in the bathroom and made a huge deal about it. He convinced her to take a few for him and she sat watching the night he snorted them. It looked painful and she hadn't ever done drugs before but Marco told her she would never feel better so she tried it. It was painful. Her nose felt like it was on fire and her heartbeat slowed immediately. But within seconds all she felt was peace. Her mind was quiet, her body was relaxed, every movement felt as natural as a tree branch in the breeze. Nothing mattered, and it felt so good. From that moment it was like a switched flipped inside her. It was all she thought about and was soon found out by her dad who's pills were disappearing far faster than they should have been. He started keeping the bottle in his pocket, so she started paying for them.

The bus ride home seemed like it took hours. She wished buses had bathrooms so she could just go in and deal with her business. She kept her hand in her coat pocket clutching the little box the whole way. Her mind raced with thoughts as to whether or not she would take all of them tonight, or save a few to get her through the morning before she could get more. She knew she had very little self control and because they weren't a full dosage she would be hard pressed not to take all of them. She could already feel the drip from her sinus cavity down the back of her throat and for a moment thought she might stand up and scream for the driver to hurry the fuck up.

Cam was gone when she finally pushed through the front door, which was good because it meant if she hurried up she wouldn't have to share. He would be pissed but whatever, once it's in it can't be brought back out. She flung her backpack on the dirty grey recliner and hustled over to the couch. Everything she needed was on the coffee table and she quickly got to work. She dumped the box out onto a large Dali coffee table book, which she was pretty sure had never actually been looked at. She pulled out her debit card, something else which was rarely used for its purpose and one by one smashed the little blue pills. Once they were all powder she went back through with the edge of the card and chopped it all into fine granules. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a dollar bill. Line, snort. Line, snort. Line snort. All gone.

When Cam got home she was slumped over on the couch, which seemed odd because she usually never got high enough to pass out, at least not before stumbling to bed.

"Rise and shine!" Cam plopped on the couch next to her which only caused her to slump further away from him. "Wake up Sleeping Beauty I got that douuujaa....." he said in his best Master P voice and waved the little baggy in her face.

She didn't move. He saw the dollar bill in her hand and is stomach dropped. He quickly sat her upright and put his middle and index finger against her neck. She was cold and he felt nothing.

"Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.....!"

He ran to his backpack and fumbled through it digging for his cell.

"911 what is your emergency??"

Her dad hadn't wanted to bother with an autopsy. She died because she was useless and stupid and no medical examiner would prove otherwise. Cam wanted to pay for it but knew that would mean giving up his hits and spending the money on something that could never be reversed. Instead he got high and walked the streets with her picture trying to figure out what she took and who she got it from. He narrowed the trail to two people who were known to sell counterfeits. One of them typically only had fakes with no active ingredients which wouldn't have caused her death. The other he had heard would sometimes sell high doses of Haloperidol, an anti-psychotic, which could be passed off as Xanax. It wouldn't have killed her if she hadn't taken so much of it. Cam remembered her rants about never having time for "half-highs" and took solace in the fact that she went out hardcore. She was hard-fucking-core. He smiled at the thought and headed home to suck up his last $20.