Being alone in my big room for the first time since returning is overwhelming. The pictures, poster and chains of fairy lights is all so different from the neat clean-white space in the clinic. My giant walk-in-closet is still filled to the brink with Yves saint Laurent and Chanel, my vanity table is still overflowing with mac lipsticks and NAKED eyeshadows, and my giant bed is still covered in silk sheets and decorative pillows. Yet it all seems so pointless now. So fucking pointless. In the midst of all the silky fluff i succumb myself to the sobs. Silent messy sobs escape my mouth followed by tears. Crunched together in fetal position I let my pain and worries run freely, and it is in that exact position i am lying in when I hear a knock on the door.
"Rosie? Are you still up?"
Its Jamie.
YOU ARE READING
The Beginning of the End
RomantikWhen Rose McKenzie returns to her luxurious life on upper Manhattan after six months, speculations starts to fly: Why did she leave so suddenly? Where has she been? And why is her usually sparkling eyes replaced with these sad and gloomy ones?
