Jane sits on the edge of her bed in a one room apartment. The kitchen island sits across from the bed over-flowing with stacks of plates left in the sink with food rotting between them. The carpet has puddles of crusty stains of different shades and sizes. Her sheets mimic the carpet and her mattress leaks springs through the seams. A four inch pipe, coated with burnt residue lies dead on her night stand. The moon reflects smoke escaping from a match lying on a tray with cigarette butts crushed into it. The tray looks like a war zone with cigarettes as tanks and matches as bombs. Jane takes the pipe, strikes a match, and tries to keep the flame steady under the bulb. The brown crust bubbles at the base of the bulb and travels through smoke to Jane’s lungs. Her body twitches as she exhales. She runs her dirt stuffed fingernails through her blonde hair that looks as if its been soaked in grease.

Cockroaches scurry around Jane’s toes, crawling over crumbs and shards of glass. One flips over on its back and its legs frantically wiggle in the air. Jane pinches the bug, squashing the juices inside and places it right side up on a piece of glass.

“Thanks for that.” The bug squeaks and hurries away.

Jane stares wide eyed at the flat chestnut bug. Did that just come from that cockroach? She shakes her head away from the scene and continues to soak the meth in her lungs.

“You f*ing whore, stop smoking it all.” A man lies on the other side of the bed with sleeves of tattoos trailing down his arms and black tar burnt in his teeth. Sores appear across his face, like popped pimples soaked with blood.

“One more hit.” As she brings the pipe to her mouth, the man yanks it out of her hands. “What the f***, asshole?” Jane slaps the man and takes his clothes from the floor. She swings the front door open and dumps his clothes in the hallway. “Get the f*** out!” She points out the door but flinches as the pipe whips past her head, shattering on the wall.

“F*** you, b****.” In his boxers, he stumbles out of the thin sheets and stomps out the infested apartment.

Jane flops onto her bed and stares at the flaking ceiling as tears stream down her temples.

“Please, don’t cry.” A small quiet voice calls beside her.

Jane turns her head to a cockroach feeling her greasy skin with its antennas. Jane’s lifeless brown eyes stare into the cockroach’s sparkling black bead eyes.

“How are you talking to me?” Jane stumbles over her words.

“Do you remember the last moments of your dad’s life?” The cockroach inches toward her. Jane’s eyebrows scrunch at the bug and her eyes drift away, searching for an answer.

“Why didn’t you help him?” The cockroach’s squeaks get quiet. Her head jolts toward the bug.

“I didn’t know what to do.” Tears hug the brim of her eyes. Her voice quiets to a whisper. “I was scared.”

***

Jane creeps down the stairs in a little pink night gown. The sleeves are lined with lace and a small pink bow sits at the base of her neck. She shifts her gaze to a family photo on the wall where Jane is in between a man and a woman. Like one of those fake family photos in a new picture frame.The pads of her feet stick to the tile as she makes her way to the kitchen.

She glances in the living room. Her father lies twisted on the couch. His snores echo through the house as he shoves his cheek into his arm. She takes a cup from the cabinet and pours herself a glass of water from the faucet. She turns off the water and a slight gurgling from the living room makes Jane spill her drink. Water drips down the cup, soaking into her sleeve.

“Dad?” She tip toes into the living room with the cup shaking in her hand. The gargling gets louder as she creeps closer.

Her dad lies on his back, wiggling on the couch as if he was having a seizure. His limp arm dangles off the side. His mouth hangs open half way with chunks of food and acid draining down his cheeks.

“Dad?” Her voice trembles.

His body stops shaking. The house is silent. Jane examines his body as puke trails down his face and land on the cushion. She lets go of her cup, shattering the glass on her toes.

***

“I was eleven. I didn’t know what was happening. Even if I did, I don’t know if I would save him.” Jane holds herself as tears land in the creases of her arms. “But I can’t get that memory out of my mind and everyday I remind myself of my old man.”

“Jane, you need to forgive yourself. You will never move on until you see that you are not your father. You are much stronger and wiser, you just need to see it.” The cockroach crawls on her pillow and wipes her tears with its antenna.

“I need someone to show me who I am.” She stares out the window and spots a small black spider crawling across a newly made web. A distant whiz of cars is the only sound that echoes in the apartment.

“Someone like you.” She looks to where the bug had been sitting, but it was no where to be found. “Hey, where’d you go?” She throws the sheets across the bed. Her breathing gets quicker with every swoosh of the sheets. She glances at the ground and stops her frantic searching. The cockroach lies stiff on its back on a shard of glass. Its legs shriveled into its belly and a slight breeze from the vent brushes its antennas. Jane scoops the big into her hands and gazes at the lifeless carcass. She puckers her lips and kisses the cockroach. The big moves with her lips.
“Take me away.” She whispers into her hands. Jane places the bug on her pillow and rests her head next to it, staring into the small black beads. She grins and shuts her eyes with the slight hum of cars surrounding the apartment.