I don't care, she told herself, as she took another swig. Ever since the accident, her outlet was drinking herself in oblivion, near unconsciousness - it was the only way to forget.

She stared ahead and tried to pretend that the skyline wasn't blurring. She knew what she was doing to herself, of course. She knew that she was probably killing herself, but it just didn;t seem to matter. More and more, her life seemed to be happening to someone else.

She closed her eyes for a minute, opening them just in time to stop herself falling from the roof. Even though it had been three days since she'd last slept, she still had enough energy to chuckle at the thought of them finding her on the decking in the morning, covered over with frost.

Pathetic, she thought to herself. Pathetic. She took another swig to fortify herself against the cold, allowing a minute for the liquid to enter her bloodstream. Then she looked down at the bottle in her numb fingers with something like surprise, as though she hadn't noticed it before.

'Sm...Smirn..' She mumbled the words, stumbling over them as she tried to get her eyes to focus, and then, 'Gah! Can't even...read...anymore...' She shivered and drank again, wincing as the memory of his vodka-soaked lips sprang unbidden into her mind. That was so before, so, so...different from how she was now.

She stood, not without difficulty, and swayed dangerously to the edge of the roof.

She thought of his eyes on the first night they'd spent, how warm and soft they were.

She thought of his smile when she told him she;d love him forever, how he;d ruffled her hair and called her a kid.

She thought of waiting outside the off liscence for him, that slight thrill when he came out and walked over to her.

Finally, as always, she thought of his cold, dead eyes, that slack, expressionless mouth, the legs, twisted, all wrong, the arm stretched out towards her, her name on his lips, her name...

She looked down at the bottle in her hand. It had destroyed him, and now it was destroying her. She looked at it, looked at the sky, looked at the ground. She bought her arm back and threw it as hard as she could.

It hung in the air for ever, then disappeared with a tiny smash.

The girl on the rooftop was gone, but her window was open, and you could just hear her say

Drop dead, gorgeous. I don't need you, anymore.