The crown of life

Chapter Seven: Application

I parked my red and white Smart car in my garage at around 8 PM as usual, where it was dark, and no one could see me. I stayed in the car for a bit, thinking about the day that had passed—it was longer and more exhausting than any previous day.

I got out of the car, closed the door behind me, and slowly walked through the darkness of the garage that I loved because it was my only friend that would never betray me. I made my way to the hallway where I always chose the lesser evil—the elevator or the stairs.

My neighbors in the building where I've been living for 10 years, since leaving my equally dreary dorm room, hardly knew me, but I hadn't made any effort to get to know them either.

This time, I opted for the stairs because I saw the elevator moving between the fifth and eighth floors, suspecting that kids were playing with it.

I slowly climbed to the third floor of my building and stopped in front of my door, marked with the number 34. Holding the car and apartment keys in my hand, I unlocked the door and entered the dark apartment. "Home, sweet home." I said to myself as I turned on the light and placed my keys and small bag in the bowl by the door.

My sweet home truly was sweet because it hid my scar even from myself. I decorated my studio apartment just the way I always wanted.

The kitchen consisted of just an induction cooktop, one lower and one upper cabinet where I kept a few cups, plates, and cutlery. Next to the lower cabinet was a trash can and a refrigerator, and I washed dirty dishes in the sink because I didn't need a dishwasher since I lived like a lone wolf, which I actually enjoyed.

The always-opened sofa was waiting for me to throw myself on it, turn on the TV, and watch romantic movies until I fell asleep on it since it also served as my bed. A small wardrobe next to the sofa held the most necessary clothes because I didn't go to bars, restaurants, or clubs. This was my refuge from everything that hurt me, and I felt safe here.

Sometimes, I would invite Molly over for a movie marathon, but only on weekends and when we weren't on call.

Now, I took off my dark brown coat and hung it on the rack, took off my shoes, and slipped into comfortable slippers.

I then entered my very small bathroom, which barely accommodated a shower, toilet, sink, and a two-in-one washer-dryer. I didn't have a mirror anywhere in the apartment, not even in the bathroom, so I could be free without seeing my reflection anywhere in my studio. Here, I could pretend the scar didn't exist and live as normally as possible.

I turned on the bathroom light and approached the shower, letting the water run to quickly warm up. I quickly undressed, threw my clothes into the washer, and stepped under the warm shower.

The warm shower water made me close my eyes as usual, but this time, for a moment, I saw Pamela again, to whom I had delivered the crushing news that she needed facial reconstruction.

Now, I let my emotions out, not even realizing I was crying because my tears mixed with the water, so I didn't feel them.

After getting out of the shower, I felt lighter, though I didn't know why. I thought it was because of the water I eagerly awaited all day after a long, hard day.

I tied my wet hair into a ponytail because I loved wearing it that way when no one could see me, and drops of water still trickled down my back.

I left the bathroom to grab a towel and my favorite Minnie Mouse pajamas from the wardrobe. After drying off quickly and putting on the pajamas, I took vanilla ice cream from the fridge, grabbed a spoon, pulled my phone out of my bag, and threw myself onto the sofa.

I turned on a movie channel with the remote, and the film "The Wedding Planner" was playing on the large plasma TV on the wall, starring such handsome actors that I could watch it over and over.