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Destroyer of Lives - by Dawn Mockewich

The musty room, with its dusty shelves and smell of decay, held a horror that broke his heart. Dim light swirling with dust mites from the thin curtains showcased the scene before him, highlighting it and burning the image into his mind forever. Amongst the discarded garbage strewn across the floor lay her naked, emaciated body, left behind by the ghosts of her past and the addiction that had wrecked her - mind, body, and soul.

Tears trailed down his cheeks as he looked around at her filthy room and the sadness that clung to everything within it. His eyes narrowed, seeing the dirty, used needles scattered next to the poison sitting on the grimy coffee table. Hatred filled his heart for those who peddled this destroyer of lives so readily.

He took the cleanest looking blanket from the tattered couch against the wall and covered her, laying his love over her with its threadbare modesty. With that blanket, he also laid down his resolve. A quick search through her leather bag laying on the couch that he'd bought her last Christmas produced her cell phone. He needed to find the source of her enabled suicide. The unmarked number to her personal devil showed on the caller ID like a constant, life sucking companion.  

He made his way to the door, looking one last time at the room that had changed his life. This would be his start. He wouldn't stop until that trash was dead or he'd die trying. He'd do anything, for her.

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