I Promise

1

The hot water pours down in waves.

It encases me in my own safety bubble until I can't distinguish my tears from the water that trails down my cheeks. I try and hold my breath for as long as I can, straining with the effort and feeling myself get red, until my body forces out a hiccup of air.

I wonder if anyone fought the urge to take a breath and succeeded. Would it be that simple to die? Just to stop existing? I smirk at the idea of someone classifying that type of death. The investigators would probably label it as "death by misadventure" or something.

I want to stay in my safety bubble forever, but I force myself to turn off the water and I stand in the small shower tub until I am shivering, and all the water droplets have ceased to exist on my body.

I grab my towel from the toilet seat, and gently step out of the tub and onto the cool bathroom tile. The wall mirrors are all fogged up, and I trace a smiley face right in the centre. They're supposed to make you happy, but mine just seems to leer at me as if to say "I know your secrets, shame that no one else can see your life for what it really is - a big fucking mess."

I hastily grab the edge of my towel and lean in to wipe my little drawing off, and I open the window and let the cold night air suck all the moisture out of the bathroom. For once I am grateful that my aged apartment doesn't have those fancy fans installed in the ceiling to suck out all the moisture and leave your mirrors fog-free. It gives me more time to stay locked shut, not raising any concerns.

Everyone in my family thinks I take way too long to shower. I guess you could call me a habitual obsessive showerer, if that's even a thing.

But it gives me time to think, and time to relax with no one crammed up right next to me. I guess that's the problem when you have seven people living in a two bedroom city apartment.

The last fog smudge on the bathroom mirror disappears, and I look back at myself.

The girl that has it all. Smart, pretty, funny, athletic, artistic.

I try to find her behind the puffy, swollen, red eyes and the disheveled, knotted damp hair. Even I have to admit that I look like shit.

I sigh, and take out my hairbrush, taking extra long to brush out each knot. Next I take all the small bottles of hair products from underneath the bathroom cupboard and work them into my locks. I guess that's why everyone compliments my hair.

Maybe staying in the bathroom for an hour and a half has its perks.

Once I finish, I rest my hands on the bathroom cabinet, contemplating what to do next so I can waste more time to myself.

After a few moments, I give up and do the last step - my least favourite because it means I have to leave in a few minutes.

I wash my face with cold water, hoping that the redness and the puffiness on my eyes lessen, and then I soak two cotton pads and put them over my eyes.

I sit with my towel wrapped around me on the closed toilet seat, my neck craned to face the ceiling so that the cotton pads won't fall off my face.

I take a few deep breaths, trying to slow the occasional hiccup that escapes from my lips. I have to breathe through my mouth because my nose is way to stuffed.

I tilt my face down and the cotton pads drop onto my ready hands. I suddenly think that it's sad how I know exactly where they're going to fall - it has become my routine, and I am used to it.

I gently turn on the tap, hoping that no one would yell at me just yet. Straining my ears for any signs of stirring outside, I rip of a giant piece of toilet paper and blow my nose. I wince when I hear the loud noise, but no one seems to notice other than me. To me, it sounds like one of those giant church bells struck right in my ear, leaving me partially deaf for a few seconds.