Suffocating Miasma

A young girl lay atop the cold concrete, mind wrapped in the innumerable layers of itself. Memories of cold and silent evenings washed over her and nearly drowned her with their icy, murderous fingers. There was nothing that could or would be done to save her, for she was lost in her own deception and lies of being okay. A hazy wind soaked her damp body and made her crave warmth, but also swept in knowledge that she would never feel the warmth she once felt ever again. She felt starved of the only thing that made her live, although she was already deeply immersed in it.
Spindly fingers drew a thin sheet of newspaper closer to the girl's face, a failed attempt at drawing out the cold that froze her haggard frame. A frenzied pair of blue eyes opened up to the languid sight of Los Angeles, its neon lights blurring her already dizzy sight. The girl stood up suddenly and began to slink toward the head shop down the street. She had just enough money stuffed in her faded jeans and realized that, with as relentless as her addiction had gotten, this may as well be the last time she would be anywhere near sober. She purchased her liberator and fled the shop so that she could once more attempt to salvage the last of her damaged soul.
Lying atop the cold concrete, a young girl, enveloped in suffocating miasma, felt a wave of calmness wash over her and her ragged breath crashed into a wall of shadows and was silenced forever.