Just One?

It stained her lips blood red. “It’s only one sip,” she’d say, but I could see the darkness.

It tainted her breath with a lingering scent. “It’s only one hit,” she’d say, but I could smell the bitterness.

It numbed her mind with a foggy haze. “It’s only one pill,” she’d say, but I could feel the emptiness.

What could I do?

I tell her, “stop.”

“Don’t control me.”

“Things will only get worse.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. It’s just one.”

I was trying to protect her, that’s what I could do.

“Relax, I only had two.” I thought it was just one.

That’s how it starts.

The poison, spreading through her veins.

Is it too late?

It was a part of her now, she couldn’t live without it.

One turned to…who knows?

She approached that edge, and she jumped off it.

Further and further into the abyss she fell.

It was far too late.

The IV’s were her lifeline now, flooding her veins with Naloxone.

A slow steady beat hummed from the machine.

She looked at peace, laying in that bed, for the first time in months.

I hadn’t protected her, but I tried to.

It always starts with just one.