“Do not tell me what to do! No one tells me what to do!” Janine screamed to her mom as she threw her against the door. Tension rose when Janine’s sincere mother asked a simple request of her. Jessica’s head spins as she stared at her fearful mother glued against the wall. Janine’s nose began to bleed from the illegal lines of cocaine she must take to feel stable. Janine let go of her mom, ran to her bathroom to grab a towel, and wiped off her nose. The towel was already stained with blood from her times of pain when cutting her wrists.
“Why!” Janine screamed at the top of her lungs while washing the blood off her hands from her nose bleeding.
Staring in the mirror at her reflection she didn’t know why she was still there, living life like a game that she is losing; painfully and slowly. Her mother petrified by her daughters actions, had nothing else to do but stand in shock not being capable of moving one bone in her entire body.
“What happened to our Janine?” her mother thinks as she tries to get to a place of content so she would be able to take some kind of action.

Janine sat in her room with no sense of sight. Her long colored black hair washed out her pale skin and her stomach ached from it being deprived from food and the entrance of alcohol. Janine sat questioning her actions but the drugs fading from her system made it impossible. Fading into tears she weakly leaned to her night stand and grabbed the hard cover book with the powder of relief laying right on it. Taking the razor she formed a thick long line that could kill any sober human being in an instant. But for Janine it was just enough to keep her functioning. She leaned her head in and held her left nostril shut. Snorting in the powder from right to left she felt the pain increase in her nose and blood rush down her throat she threw her book down beside her bed and held the razor to her wrist. This was a normal routine for her and was the only way she could fall asleep. The blood ran down her hands and the weakness of her body only allowed her to lean to retrieve her guitar. Leaning on the back board of her bed she began strumming the notes of her own made songs. The blood fell from her wrists onto her guitar and the music continued to play. Playing herself to sleep from her own music was what kept her going every day. Even the blood stains on her guitar distraction to her. She continued to play and slowly fell asleep with a smile of relief on her face.