No point

My profile cuts a dark figure on the dirty bedroom wall. The candle nearly dead on the hardwood floor. Windows painted black, painted shut, it smells of sweat and spilt vodka. The room is hazy through my broken eyes but I can see someone else, slim and sleeping on a mattress under a heater that has never worked as if the mere thought of it being there gives off warmth. I know who she is though it takes me a minute to remember and I permit myself a smile before returning to a stony face I'm more comfortable with. Gently, I make my way across the room avoiding various debris and crouch down beside the girl. She stirs sightly but doesn't wake. I sit next to the mattress and move a stray lock from her pale white face and pull up the blanket over her skinny shoulders. The candle has gone out now leaving the sound of the street outside and my heavy breathing and I feel strangely more aware even though I'm tired now.

I hear a lock click in to place and realise it's the only sound I've heard for a while, I look down and see the blanket which covered her is now over my chest the early light is dim through the darkened windows. My cheek is moist and her image still indented on the bedding.

My heart hurts.