Answers

Jane looked at the reflection of her. She looked miserable. Pain and addiction had turned her into a walking zombie. She's living, but dying from the inside. Clouds of worthless thought circled around her head, pestering her with a thousand of useless rants that she always tend to ignore. Jane looked at her face. The reflection was not that pretty. She didn't look pretty anymore. She looked awful, with bruises all over her face, hair fell down to cover most of her rotten face, she hid her smile with a smirk. 

If it wasn't for the drugs, she would not be this terrible.

But what should she do when everyone left and drugs stayed with her? What would be the answer for all the questions she had in mind? She was left alone, forgotten, and she was not even worth-waiting for anyone else now, not anymore. She's rotten, broken and in deep shit. She searched for the answers, but there was no one there. No one came to her and told her the answer. No one came to her. No one.

Jane looked at her reflection on the mirror. What a weird smile she had.

A smile that was once pure with honesty, now had turned into one of those fake smiles she had to wear to pretend everything was okay. No, nothing was okay. Everything was not okay. People left, she was trapped in a mess and there was no one to help her stand still. She lost her way to find heaven cause she had already found her way to be in hell. A worldly imagination of hell created by the infliction of the drugs she took. People left, but drugs stayed.

"If it wasn't for drugs, I would not be alive."

That day, the police found a young woman died of drug overdose. Jane finally left. Just like everyone else, who left her before she could get the answer. Too bad, she died without getting the answers to all of her questions.