The first thing she noticed was the haze. It was a bright, overpowering haze, that fogged her eyes and caused her to fall as she tried to stand up from the bed. She fell into a lamp and knocked it over, shattering the glass, spreading it across the floor. She then fell onto the dresser, bruising her ribcage as her side hit the wood. Her hands grasped the furniture for support. There was glass embedded in her feet, but she was still buzzing too much to feel them.
The next thing she noticed was her bare skin pressed against the dresser. The scratches that zig zagged her stomach. The bruise across her ribcage where Val had hit her. Turning to the mirror, she could see her disordered hair, slightly wavy, curling around her neck, the small cross necklace she always wore, the slightly raised marks from kisses the night before.
The night before.
She jumped when she heard him move behind her. He sighed as she spun to see him stretch out on the bed. His hair was uncombed as well. His tattooed chest, while still fit, looked somehow less so in the light. His scruff was unkempt, she noted, as she stood paralysed, looking at him. He seemed older too.
She felt sick before his eyes met hers.
She raced into the bathroom before he could say a word. The door slammed behind her, scaring her even more. She sunk to the tile floor, pressing her hands to her ears in an effort to blur out any sound. The light coming in from the window was too much. The feelings coursing through her body were too much. Everything was too much.
She could hear him stumbling out of bed, footsteps leading to the door. He too was walking oddly, perhaps still drunk or numb like she was. There was a pause, then a heavy sigh and then a knock.
At first she didn't answer. She wouldn't talk; she couldn't talk to him. What she had done, what they had done, was morally repulsive. She wanted to seep into the floor and disappear. Or fling herself into the floor until she shattered into a million pieces. Whichever came first would be fine with her. But he wouldn't go away.
"Maksim, please." She said. Her voice sounded more hoarse than she had expected. Her throat was sore.
"Karina we need to talk about this." She could hear the tired pain in his voice. She had to make him go away.
"I'm sorry I f***** up your life." She cried out. Tears were filling her eyes. She felt weak and exhausted and so very sad. Her arm flung out and she struck the counter. She retracted her arm, now throbbing with pain.
"Karina--"
"Maks, please. I'm sorry." She dug her nails into her skin to stop the tears from falling.
"It's my fault too." He sounded so tired, so sad. So full of guilt. And she had done that to him.
"Please just go."
"K--"
"Go."
Silence. She waited to hear his footsteps leave her room, her house, her life for good. To go return to his fiancee, to apologize, to call her a s***, a h***, a horrid horrid person that had seduced him again. He could blame it on her; she wouldn't care. She hated herself already. Any more hate wouldn't faze her.
Then the door open. She raced to the corner of bathroom, pressing herself up against the bathtub, drawing her knees to her chest. The tears were falling now; she couldn't help it. She held her head down, her eyes closed, as he entered the room.
He didn't speak. In fact, she could barely tell he was in the room until a robe was set over her shoulders. Until she was picked up against her will and forced to stand. Until she was hugging his body, now clothed. Until she was crying into his shirt because she had given up on everything in her life. And he let her cry for as long as she wanted. He stroked her hair as she cried, and held her up when her strength gave out. He felt so warm and she had missed that in her life.
There was a sound from atop the dresser. Maks' phone, having died last night, was suddenly awake and receiving a call. Maks answered it while still holding Karina.
"Maksim why haven't you been answering any of my calls? You didn't come back last night and I was so worried. I tracked your phone to this address. Guessing it's a friend. Will you come let me in?"
The doorbell rang. They didn't move. Then the door opened. Of course they hadn't locked it last night. And then there were footsteps coming towards them, but neither of them stirred. And then there was Peta, standing in the bedroom, watching a shirtless Maks hold a robed Karina standing next to a bed that wasn't the least bit made.
Peta did not scream. She did not lunge forward and punch either of the two humans who were avoiding her eye contact. She didn't even cry. Instead, she took a long, deep breath then turned and left the room.
"You should go." Karina whispered into his chest.
He leaned away from her for a second, taking her in. Her puffy eyes, her tear-stained cheeks, her lips still swollen from the night before. He kissed her on the forehead.
"It was my fault. Last night. I'm sorry."
"Maksim-"
"But I'm don't regret it."
"You should leave."
"Don't hate yourself for this. This wasn't you. This was a decision that I made last night that a very intoxicated version of you went along with. So please don't hate yourself for this."
If only that was the truth.
Minutes later, or perhaps hours later, she found herself in the shower, scrubbing cold water all over her face. The soap had disappeared long ago and yet she kept scrubbing. She scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin turned red, until her eyelashes began to fall, until her face began to bleed. Only then did she stop, collapsing onto the floor, in a heap of damp skin and broken spirit.
