It was 4:23 A.M. and the stench of an all-night binge hung thick in the air. Sprawling across the water bed, I searched the overflowing ashtray for one last puff of a used cigarette. My hand shook as I sorted through the butts, desperate for a toke as the remnants of the cocaine I'd snorted started to wear off. "I fucking hate this part," I mumbled loudly in the direction of Scott's passed-out form. He'd shown up unannounced late the night before and promptly fallen asleep. He was no doubt fighting with his "ex" again. I glared at him as I ground my teeth, turning to watch the dead fish in the aquarium next to my bed floating belly up in the murky water. I pictured myself floating alongside them, my lungs slowly filling with water. I pushed the image out of my head. My mouth was so dry I could hardly swallow and I couldn't seem to move. Lying there miserably in the darkness, I contemplated scraping my tongue when suddenly the whole apartment shook violently. What the hell is that? The noise thundered closer toward me and I bolted upright thinking it was an earthquake.
