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The pungent scent of the cigarette snagged onto every inch of her throat, causing a strangled cough to choke out every so often.  The horrid smell burned the inside of her nose and lungs, but she couldn’t care less.

Her tired, angry amber eyes scratched across the mess, taking in the ripped papers, picture frames smashed into the wooden floor, scratches and pen marks scrawled across the wall, and broken ceramics littering the ground.  She gave a laugh, mad and hollow, before taking another drag.

Her name was Lina and she was sixteen, though the look in her eyes along with the heavy bags under them would suggest her to be older.  Or perhaps it was the burning cigarette that she held in her hands, at an angle that hinted at the most ordinariness, as though smoking was a common thing for her.  Appearances can be deceiving, for it was not.

She waved her hand carelessly over the floor, gracefully flicking off ashes from the tip of her cigarette to reveal its red and livid flicker.  The ash sprinkled thinly over the spilt water and soda, making a unique sizzle as the grey powder sunk down.  Taking another forced suck out of it, Lina examined the burning cigarette with a sort of dangerous, terrifying interest.  “Still hot after spreading out and falling?” she questioned to herself.  She tipped it over her bare, pale leg, curious to see if the heat could be felt hovering a half centimeter from her skin.

For a second, she could feel the warmth.  It was like a warm, loving hug, like the ones Father used to give before he died.  It was like being with all her friends again, grinning, squealing, messing around and having all that fun.  It reminded her of a warm summer’s night with Jack, laughing in the moonlight while counting the stars and making their own constellations.

Oh shit… Not Jack again.  Please, not Jack.  Her mind suddenly flashed back to a dreary December afternoon in a snow-filled park with him by her side just a year and a half before.

Her hand had slipped inconspicuously into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette, which stood very conspicuous against the pure white snow.  “What are you doing?” he had hissed angrily as she tried to figure out the mechanism in a lighter.
“Eh?  I dunno, just wanted to try smoking, why?” she had asked, a puzzled expression filling her face.
He shook his head, and snatched the little stick from her hands.  He leaned in more closely, as though that would help him understand her.  Her heart beat fast and her wind-reddened cheeks flushed redder. “And why would you do that?” he asked without answering her question.
“Hmm,” she began, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully.  “Hmm.  I guess it’s something for me to do with my mouth?  I’m out of gum.”
They sat silent for a moment or two, neither moving, both staring at each other with only a thin puff of air between them.  “There are healthier things to do with your mouth than smoking,” Jack had commented suddenly, suddenly a cloud of warm breath into her face.
“Oh really?” she had asked as she did the same to him, laughing at his reaction to the gust of breath. “Prove it to me,” she had said when she was over her giggles.
He gave a devilish grin and questioned teasingly, “Want me to show?”
“Oh yeah,” she answered in the same tone, returning the evil smile.
And he had leaned over and kissed her.

A white-hot spot burnt into her leg, a soft hiss of smoke floating above it.  Snapped back into the present, Lina stared at the cinders as they tumbled down her leg, cooling as they rolled, until they finally reached room temperature as the ash hit the bed covers.  Another experimental flick of the wrist sent a second wave of scalding pain down her right leg.  Pink, deep red, and various colors speckled her skin and a heavy scent of burning flesh wafted up.

Tears rolled down her face, but that didn’t stop Lina from pouring the rest of her cigarette ash onto her leg.  Those tears weren’t for the pain, at least not the physical pain.  Or was it?  Perhaps the stabbing agony in her heart could be chalked down to physical pain.  Before she knew it, the stick of tobacco had burnt down to nothing and the remains were squeezed between her fingers in the form of a smoldering crumb.  Her eyes lingered on the scorching, glowing light before dropping it into the spill from earlier.  After inspecting her burns for a second, she spat, hard and noisily, into the puddle.  Her mouth still carried the disgusting essence of smoking, so she dug through her still-neat drawers (they hadn’t undergone the attack on her room) and found a pack of orange gum.  Instinctively, she popped a piece in and chewed without a thought.

Suddenly, Lina gave a soft, tormented bittersweet smile.

After all, she had better things to do with her mouth.

She lay back down on her messy bed and fell asleep with the sad smile on her face and dreamed of Jack.