NIKKA

She was a Russian fashion model. She’s been my girl for 4 years and I now want out in the relationship. Her drug habit has gotten worse and most of the time she acts weird. The last straw was when she tried to kill me with a knife. After that, I left her. I don’t want to wake up one day with a knife sticking in my throat or belly.

She no longer can find a modelling gig because her addiction to crystal meth had affected her face and her teeth. She looks 15 years older than her real age.

The problem is, and this may sound crazy, is that I still love her. I want to save her from her present state. Just really don’t know how.

In fact, I’m now on my way to her apartment to bring her some food,supplies, and a few pieces of freshly washed clothing.

I knocked on the door. She opened and said, “Oh, it’s you.”

“Can I come in?”
She nodded and opened the door wider.

There’s that familiar smell of crack inside the apartment. “I’ve been telling you that thing is bad for you.”

“Mike,” she said, “I don’t want to argue right now. I just want to rest.”

“Here, I brought you some food and fresh clothes.”

“I’m not really hungry,” she said.

“Here, you might need a bite later.”

“Thanks. How’s little Sally?” She was referring to our daughter.

“Fine, I guess. She really misses you. How about you, you miss her?”

She shrugged. “You got something else for me?”