"My name is Maurice." He finally answered, his eyes shifting away from hers, "Also, your arm is bleeding." He pointed to the wounds going down it.
Brielle lifted her arm, taking a quick glance.
"I know." She said softly, dropping her arm back to her...
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His Bliss - ▶︎ Playing 00:10 ─────⬤───────── 00:25
Brielle spent a good amount of time in the restroom. Surprisingly, nobody walked in as she quietly cried behind a stall, losing her composure.
What was wrong with her?
After all, the only thing Davis did was ask her a few questions.
So, why was she being so sensitive?
Why did every little inconvenience upset her?
She waited for the ashamed feeling to pass, but it never went away—no matter how hard she tried to shove it down.
Her confidence was starting to crumble again, thinking of everybody who witnessed that incident and thought she was being dramatic.
She groaned.
Feeling like she was pushing her time in the restroom, Brielle unlocked her stall's door, before walking out. She stood in front of a sink, putting her hands under the automatic soap dispenser, before placing them beneath the faucet.
The faucet's censors detected the movement of her hands, water starting to stream out of it.
She quickly finished washing up her hands, before reaching for a paper towel from the electronic dispenser. The thin, white sheet soaked up beads of water as she wiped her wet hands, drying them off.
She tossed the paper towel into the trash can, pausing in front of a long, reflective glass.
Her hands raised, fingers rubbing at her puffy eyes as she sniffled, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
And not only did her brown skin glimmer against the bright light, but so did her brown eyes, which shimmered, a thin, liquid coat surfacing them.
She slightly frowned.
Her mouth opened as she sucked in a shaky breath, her feet shuffling towards the bathroom exit.
She walked out, jumping as warm hand gripped her clothed elbow from beside her.
"Are you oka-"
"Oh my god!" Brielle exclaimed with fright, brown eyes wide with panic and heart racing as she turned to look at the owner of the hand, "Maurice, you scared me!" She quietly cried.
And there, Maurice stood by the water fountain that separated the women's and men's restrooms, still gently holding on to Brielle as he stood over her.
His lightly freckled face reddened.
"I'm sorry." He apologized, remorse evident in his deep voice as his tongue skimmed across his plump, lower lip.
Brielle sighed, looking away from his sharp gaze, his hand releasing her arm as he eyed her oddly.
