She enters the room seeing the site before her. The curtains pulled shut with only the slightest streak of sun light comeing through. A man lays before her in his own filth, no doubt over dosed on today's black bag special. Shes not afraid, she just goes to work. On the table bag sits emptied and the spoon covered in the residue of the druggies fix. The smoldering wick of a tea lite candle sits ideally by. She prepares the site, cleaning it in a circular motion working out from the center. She has her supplies laid out in front of her, at an easy reachable distance. She wraps the rubber tournique around the arm, ties off the tourniquet in the middle of the bicep and quickly slaps the AC vein a few times in hopes it pops up. Its tiny and tattered, but it'll have to do even though its been used several times before. She picks up her needle and syringe her partner had already prepared. Flicking the syringe to make sure the air is out, she places the setup in her teeth and caressed the vein with her index finger. She hopes that it wont roll or vanish when she sticks it, for she needs this site to be usable. Placing the needle up against the skin, she is ready for it all to come together. Steady and with slight pressure the needle advances tearing a hole in the skin, piercing through with a familiar pain. In the vein unnaturally sits a cold and lifeless piece of manufactured metal, its as though she can taste her sucess. A thumb overs the end of the syringe she begins to push slowly, forcing the fix through the body, a mental escape from the hell in which she lives. Trying to kill the pain she slips away, to a place she feels free. The drug rushes through her veins, coursing through her body leaving her numb. The needle drops to the floor, the tourniquet still attached, she feels nothing. She stumbles from the table completely strung out, she experiences the world in her to familar way. She crashes to the floor just like the one before. Her future is unknown.