Chasing the Dragon

The syringe fell from her hand and clattered upon the floor. Finally, the release she had searched so desperately for was found. She sighed, head tilted back, eyes fluttering. She once again entered that wonderful state between awake and slumber. No matter how hard she fought this need, she always sought this feeling out. She tried to face the world without heroin; she simply could not bare it. When she shot up, the life she lived, and all of its trials and pains, faded into the background. The bills that needed paying, the dead-end job she worked, the dingy efficiency apartment in which she lived; all of these torments, these stresses, these problems, they all became nothing more than background noise. At least for a few hours, she gets to escape it all. Heroin became her only solace in her world.
She began to sweat; her skin paled. Her breathing grew ever shallow. She convulsed as her awareness, her vision and consciousness of the world faded. She finally passed out, smiling a little from the numb feeling. Her breath came out ragged and shallow. Her skin, drenched in sweat, was still cold somehow. She ceased breathing. Her heart pulsed no more.
In a cradle in the corner of her apartment, a baby girl cried out for milk.