Light Up

She shook as she took another hit. And another.

And another.

The smoke permeated her lungs, her hair, her breath; every part of her surrounded by a haze of grey.

She was battered, broken. Her clothes torn--along with other parts of her. But she would never tell any other soul of what had caused the rips in the most precious parts of her body.

Never utter the dirt and filth covering her body.

Never speak of the horrors her entire self--heart, body, and soul--had endured for those torturous minutes of sweat and screams.

She pulled on her cigarette, swallowing death as she contemplated it herself. But what good would that do? That would only end her life, not her torment.

Tears rolled down her sunken, red cheeks as she pulled another stick from her pack and lit up.

At least with a cigarette in her mouth she could stop herself from screaming.