Both

Her

She woke up with a throbbing head. She was experiencing the last night hangover rather keenly. The room felt somehow distant. She turned her head on the other side of the bed, feeling dizzy in the process. He was not there.

She placed her hand on his side, her skin touching the cold surface of the mattress. He didn't even sleep here. She went to the bathroom to fix herself. The woman standing on the other side of the mirror had black hair falling on her arms, brown eyes staring at her lifelessly and kissing marks all over her skin.

She touched each one of them, but felt no pain. She hadn't experienced that feeling a while now.

He left her. Again. But she had gotten used it. He was the one always chasing her, crawling under her skin until she broke apart and gave in to him. He, then just disappeared. She had to deal with them both. She loved both.

She took a long shower, taking extra time to scrub the places he had spread his kisses. She let her hair fall wet on her shoulders, just to cool her hot skin. The atmosphere was hot, she was feeling like she was eating the air, hot piece by hot piece, fracturing her larynx, chocking her from the inside.

She wanted to forget, so she turned on the music, grabbed a bottle of another vodka and took two long gulps. Her insides burnt. The familiar sensation was soothing her pain, bringing her numbness.

She used to be cheery, social. She used to. Now, the only thing that resembled her past self, was the same craving for alcohol.

She passed out after a few more gulps.

....

Two hours later, she woke up rubbing her eyes. It was now 8p.m. She had to work in an hour. She stumbled when she tried to get up from the flour dropping some CDs when her hand reached the nearby table to support herself.

She wore a white loose fabric which, with a little imagination, reminded of a T-shirt. She combined it with leather leggings and black leather boots that reached her ankle. She applied a black shade on her eyes along with a black eyeliner and a nude lipstick.

She wasn't entirely sober. But she could care less. She had to drink no matter what.

She was working for "Cascade" for 1 year and a half. She had been with him in that club.

Don't think.

Nate, opened the door for her. The music blasted so loud that the walls shivered. Male and female bodies were swinging to the rhythm of the music.

She put her purse in a little room behind the bar.

"Hey Vee" Adam, the muscular bartender waved at her.

"Hey handsome" She greeted back.

"We missed you, your people missed you" Adam said winking at her.

"I gathered my shit together and here I am" She announced punching him lightly on his arm.

"I bet your comeback will be something, right?"

"You bet correctly. Tell Smith to play my song. He knows." She spared one last glance to Adam and she headed to the dance floor.

The Hills from the Weeknd started echoing through the massive club. She started moving her body following the buss of the song. She was dancing this song when a random night he appeared in the club and made love to her just by dancing with her. That fucking night, when he fucking interrupted her dance. That fucking night when she fell in love with him. She was pissed at him, because he was the one that managed to enrage her in a matter of seconds.

Someone grabbed her waist an danced with her for a few minutes before she shoved him away.

You can't treat the customers like that. She had the voice of her boss rumbling in her head.

I could care less.

The song ended and she headed straight to the bar. The dizziness was leaving her body and her conscious self couldn't stand it.

One long gulp down.