Umm..

Theresa.

It was round midnight and she was by the window, looking out at the city before her. From the look of her face, you could tell she had been crying. Her face showed defeat, tired and worn out from life. She took out a cigarette, and lit it up.
"A slow act of suicide", she told herself.

The wind danced around her hair as she looked below her. Everyone seemed to be very busy on sorting out their life. In her room, Clair De Lune was playing. Hey hands were moving swiftly and gracefully mimicking on directing the tune. Her eyes were closed now, and tears were ruining her make up. "Beautiful, it's just simply beautiful. If only I can live long enough to hear the sound of the sea beating the shore. And to see the blue sky up above me."

---

Toni

The night went still and quiet. He came out of the bar sober, and cradled himself on the ground. He rocked himself back and forth. The drug was on its effect by now, and he suddenly laughed. Amusing himself with the slow motioned surrounding that he saw through his eyes. A few passer by just stared at him feeling odd. You could guess he was high from the look of his red eyes and enlarged pupils. He swore he wouldn't do it again. He swore upon his mother's grave. But he couldn't help himself, it was eating him alive.
  He stood up, looked on his left and ran as fast as he could. The cops were onto him. He ran from the bar, to the street next to him; not minding the cars passing by, he could have been hit by one of the car or a lorry, but he just ran as fast as he could; he ran to a building that seemed to be a flat, climbed up the stairs, panicked. He looked around. There were a number of doors there. In front of him, there was a door numbered 19 and next to it was 20. He looked behind him and saw another door, it was number 21 and it was unlocked. There were heavy footsteps on the stairs. As if a few people were rushing up the stairs. Panic stricken, he slipped himself in,locked the door and looked at his new surroundings. He was panting really heavily. "I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have done this. He was making me buy it. He knew I was off this! Fuck!"
  He found himself in a living room. The table had been turned upside down. And there was a glass of champaign, spilled on the mat. The television was left on. And the windows were remained open with its curtain dancing around as an effect of the wind. The room smelled of cigarette smoke. "Who lives here? It looks like someone just robbed this place?", he thought to himself. He went down the hall and peaked into one of the rooms. A girl was looking at him right in the eye. He was sure he wasn't imagining this sight at all.
  The girl looked like a statue, she just froze the minute she turned and looked at him. Cigarette was on her hands, it was lit. She was looking out the window. "Who are you?", she asked him. Her eyes wild and tired.