I brought the lighter closer to my face and felt the fire’s heat softly toast my face, the warmth landing on my cheeks. Carefully, I lit the cigarette that poked precariously out of my mouth, watching it burn at the end with a subtle red glow. I inhaled. And exhaled. I watched the smoke erupt from my mouth in a satisfying grey puff, just like I had before so, so many times.

The smoking had always been a release from life, and the general stress of it all. I was almost like a miracle, taking away the pain and replacing it only with satisfaction. I inhaled.

This time, though, something was very different. I felt everything it was doing to me. I felt the smoke snake down my air pipe and into my body. I felt how it infected my lungs, and left them crippled and desperate.

Immediately, I spat the cigarette out, and looked down at it in horror. How had I not realised the harm that this would cause me? How had I fallen under the spell of the sinister cigarette and the evil nicotine that it was controlling me with, that made me come back to it, again and again.

Furiously, I stomped down onto the ground where it lay, putting it out instantly. With pure disgust, I gingerly picked it up. I could feel its horrendous smell wafting up my nose, making my entire face form into a vulgar expression of utter disdain. I hurried over to the nearest bin and promptly hurled it in. Ah, relief. I walked away, leaving the addiction far behind me, and setting a new life ahead of me.