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Dread or alive
The purple haze clouded every aspect of the small apartment.
Especially, her judgment.
Nothing could fix this one.
Nothing.
Gazing at her messy reflection, she wiped the dark mascara tear-stain that ran down her cheeks.
She took a final lengthy puff of her cigarette, before exhausting it in the rusty ashtray.
The 9mm gleamed in the dimness from across the dressing table. She reached for it, and slowly positioned it at the side of her head.
She cracked a twisted smile which revealed a fine set of once pearly white teeth.
“It’s never that serious, right?”
She let out a screechy laugh that filled the air, which was followed by a single gunshot.
And then silence.