Gnaw

1

Author's note: UNEDITED

Blood is smeared everywhere.

The aroma, the different shades, the scenery battered into each other. The dim lighting told a dark story, a story that is in my hands. My chest is a corset, tightening on itself. Even being outside, there was not enough air to fill my lungs.

The memory of last night is vague.

The night was in fractions- pieces of unknown all over the street, blown into the wind of the night. Having to pick up the molecule glass shards of memories, it seems impossible. I can't find every piece, the shards tear small cuts into my skin, and I can't help but to question how I got myself into such a bloody accident from an innocent outing.

When I woke up, my outfit was strewn across the floor, blood rained on my silk dress. That is the only thing that is evidence of last night, evidence that something went wrong than a usual outing. I only have my shards of memory, a ruined dress, a hickey, and a lost phone.

"You look like a dickhead, you know."

My eyes darted up from dissociating, having my eyes lay upon one of the brown, monotonous menus.

"How?" I said as my eyebrows furrowed.

"C'mon, why are you wearing sunglasses inside?" my roommate asked.

I sighed, irritability. A rhetorical question that could be simply answered- I know the answer, she knows the answer, yet she still props the question.

There was a pregnant pause, ever so slightly to think about an answer.

If it was that much of an issue, perhaps she should have raised her opinion in the car, or on the walk into here. It seemed like a prying question.

I sighed, letting myself sink into what I was cornered into.

Girl talk.

Girl talk is simple, a cat and mouse game- something frivolous thrown into the air that unravels the true question.

I broke the small eye contact with her, even though it  didn't matter from the sunglasses. I looked over, with my bluish dim sight, at the glass next to me.

Reactively, I grabbed the glass next to me. The condensation kissed my hand on contact, it was anticipating bringing it up to my lips. My mouth watered, a longing sensation within me.

When I drink, I don't need AA meetings, I don't need to repent, I just need a baptism on my palate. Not in a dimly lit church, near a priest in an audience, but a smoothie within a diner.

A diner that everyone and their mother enjoys on this campus. It is a diner where you see elders and college kids simultaneously. Church is near the diner, as well as the campus.

It is a bit humorous to take in the different fashions of one another, sitting at different tables, having different reasons for crawling into this place. Sometimes, when I come in here, I like to play a game of figuring out why they would come in, where they came from- sometimes humorous, sometimes grim. Depends on the mood of the day.

The diner was not exquisite- on the contrary, it was shabby and unprepossessing.

I took a long sip, trying to enjoy the simplicity in the flavors of banana and strawberry hitting the back of my throat. It might be a placebo, but a smoothie might heal anything.

When I put the thick glass down, I licked my lips and frowned. I leaned forward, my body feeling too heavy for me.

"Girl, my eyes feel fucking awful looking around the room right now."