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His Wooden Box MAG
She sat alone on the park bench, gazing at the young couple embracing in a hug. Water welled along the sides of her eyes until teardrops slid down her cheeks. She lifted a slender arm and quickly swiped the tears aside.
"What happened to us?" she said aloud. "How did everything just come to an end so quickly?"
She stood shakily and grabbed onto the armrest for support. She had to see him one last time. She had to see if there were any way she could help him. She knew he'd be home; he hadn't left for days, according to his mother.
She walked up to the long walkway and stared at the front door as it got closer and closer. His mother answered and smiled.
"Come in, please. Talk to him."
"I'll do my best."
His door was slightly opened. She knocked lightly and walked in. Scanning his room, she finds him asleep in his bed. Clothing has been thrown carelessly onto the floor, posters half torn off the walls, and his mirror shattered.
"Look at this. What has happened?" she asks softly.
Something dark catches her eye. She walks over to his desk and touches the smooth wooden box. Fidgeting with the small clasp, she finally manages to open it.
"Oh God, oh God ...You promised ... You ..." she mumbles quietly to herself as she sees the box's contents. A bag of white powder, a syringe, and two big blunts. "No ... You promised ..."
He begins to move slightly, then awakens.
"What is this?" she shakes the wooden box. "You promised me you'd stop. You promised."
"I know I did, but you left me. I need you. I need you to help me through this. I can't do it myself." he mumbles drowsily.
"That's what you said months ago. I stayed with you and I tried, but you don't want help. You still want this!" she screams at the box. "You lost everything including me!" she throws the box to the floor and begins to leave.
"I love you," he pleads.
"If you loved me, you'd stop." She glances at him one last time and dashes out.
She runs out into the street. She didn't lose the love of her life to somebody. She lost him to something. And that something will eventually kill him, along with millions of others. She cried not only for him, but for everyone else. She wished that there were something she could do, but there wasn't. So she cried. 1