Her breathing was rigid as she collapsed to her butt on the tile floor and retrieved the Newport from the place she had left it in. Tapping it to relieve it of any ash that had collected; she placed the cancer stick to her plump lips and began to puff.


She hadn't always been a smoker.


Her lips formed the shape of an 'o' as she released the white smoke from her mouth. Her left hand pushed her curly, disarrayed locks from her hershey hued face as her coffee brown eyes looked over her master piece. From wall to wall, she looked at every crook and crevice to verify that there wasn't an ounce of sky blue that remained on the walls.


Spotting a space of blue that was equivalent to the size of a baby's fist, the rage returned to her petite body as she tensed her jaw in anger and retrieved the bucket of black paint that was stationed beside her. Rising from her position on the floor, her heart velocity increased with each step she took towards the only glossy blue spot that remained in the room. Anxiety began to flow through her blood stream; she was determined to rid the room of any blue in the room.


She needed all of the blue gone: IMMEDIATELY!


She didn't bother to use the paint brush to cover the spot instead; she held the bucket of paint over her head before throwing it at the minute spot with every ounce of power her tiny frame held. Her eyes watched intently as a loud clang surfaced from the collision of the bucket and the wall before the bucket hit the floor and watched the splatter of black paint that now covered the blue spot that once occupied the spot on the room.


Her anxiety decreased. Her heart velocity slowed down. Her jaw relaxed.


A smirk grazed her lips as she turned away from the wall, not concerned with picking up the bucket of paint that lay dripping on the floor. Blotches of black paint covered multiple areas of the floor from her maniacal frenzy of painting the room black. She simply didn't care though.


The blacker; the better off she was.


Retrieving her cigarette with her right hand again and picking up the bottle of Hypnotiq with her left, she exited the room as she placed the alcohol to her lips and took a sip. The liquid still stung her throat with an intense burning sensation; it was her first time consuming this much alcohol in one sitting.


She hadn't always been a drinker.


Entering the living room, her eyes connected with the Louis Vitton suitcases that lined the wall beside the cherry wood door. A scoff escaped her lips as she wiped at them with her forearm and took a seat on the white recliner chair. She propped her feet up on the brown coffee table and tilted her head back as she took another swig of the alcohol.


She could hear his footsteps.


When she no longer heard them, she looked to her left to see him standing there looking at her. Sympathy and guilt consumed his facial features; but the one she read most clearly as he stared at her in her fragile state was one that she had never seen on his features before.


He looked at her as if she was pathetic.


She was.


His sea green eyes connected with her light brown ones and they stared at each other for a few moments in silence. She wanted to scream at him about how much she hated him; and he wanted to tell her that she knew what this was from the very beginning.


She knew that this day was coming and soon.


She knew not to get her heart involved; he made it clear that all she was doing was helping him out.


After all, they were best friends. Best friends help each other, right?


He opened his mouth to speak; but immediately closed it just as fast. There was nothing he could say to console her, nothing he could do to make her understand why this was happening.


She knew why this was happening; he didn't need to explain it.


She knew the situation better than anyone else did.


The two sudden knocks at the door caused both of them to jump. He didn't waste a second to answer the door, knowing who waited on the other side of the door. The tears pushed into her ducts; she knew who waited on the other side as well. Her throat became tight and dry as the door opened and she seen the figure on the other side.


Her eyes slammed shut as she encouraged herself not to cry, not to let them see her so weak. She could hear them whispering and she could feel the other beings eyes staring at her; but she still chose to keep her eyes closed. If and when she did open them, she knew a flood would be following as well.


She could hear shuffling and footsteps. The footsteps walked past her, more than likely to their old bedroom.


Her breath became lodged in her throat; she knew why he was going to the bedroom.


The footsteps resurfaced and then decreased again. She heard a clatter and she knew it was from him placing his key on the stand on the left side of the door. When it clattered; the tears tried harder to force their selves out of her ducts. Soon, the door shut.


Her eyes snapped open and just as she thought, the tears began to slide down her cheeks. A sob escaped her lips as she listened to the car start and then exit the driveway. Her eyes closed as she allowed the pain she felt surge throughout her body. Trying to stand to her feet, her body collapsed to the ground and she began to cry harder as the realization set in.


He was gone.


He was gone and had taken every piece of her with him.


Never give a man your all because when he leaves, you will have nothing.

Story of her life.