100 Words: To Keep The Monster Sleeping

“Just let me fucking help you!” His voice was angry, exasperated to cover the fear.

She could almost taste the fear.

It tasted a little like the junk now. Or maybe the junk tasted like fear. She didn’t know.

She learned where to get it, how to smoke it, how to inject herself.

She learned how to get fucked in public without getting caught, to make the money that would buy what she needed, to keep the monster sleeping.

She stared at him blankly; when he came in close, she shoved him back — with her hands — and turned to run.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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