Simkin had been the most beautiful girl in town. About five foot tall. A bit short I agree, but with the bluest eyes, the most tanned skin and the blondest hair. She had been the envy of everyone. Yet also, she had been my closest friend. Whether it had meant spending months apart, we were still close. She wasn't just any friend though. She was the kind that would show up with a bucket of ice-cream and your favourite movies at midnight if she had the tiniest inkling that things weren't all-right. If she had an important meeting, she'd cancel it and much rather stuff her face with copious amounts of food alongside you.

She was my friend, for twelve years, before she met him. Cocaine. Immediately she fell head over her own heels. I can remember him from primary school. He even went to my high school, sang in the choir with me. An interesting bloke, though not my type. See, Cocaine had a reputation, and it was definitely not seeing that he was popular
I began seeing less of Simkin, and on the rare occasions that I did she looked gaunt, decreasing in size. Almost, wasting away. She had lost her spark of energy, her contact with the outside world, she changed. She was no longer Simkin, but now, now she was just like him. Cocaine. The devil.

The next year flew past with the speed of light. Along with her weight, Simkin lost family members. She lost track of time, she lost track of what had previously been the most important things to her. She lost her ability to love, and most of all her ability to live.

On the first day of Autumn, I decided to call on Simkin. The Grim Reaper picking up the receiver on the other side, telling me he took yet another victim for his vengeful vendetta with the world. Cocaine had slaughtered my friend, beaten, battered, bruised and finally killed without mercy, yet again.

©. Juané van Dyk.