to hell and back.

Chapter 8

PSA: READ THE BOOK CARRY ON BY RAINBOW ROWELL IF YOU WANT AN AMAZING STORY TO OBSESS OVER! It's literally sooo good I've read it three times lol

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It's funny, how many times I wake up in my room and have no idea how I got here.

The space is quiet and still. None of the comforting morning light that I love so much is floating in, like it does on my usual mornings. The shades must be drawn. My head is pounding, so I rub my fingers over my temples to sooth the throbbing pain. I look over to the digital clock that sits on the nightstand. 1 pm.

I roll over with a sleepy groan, not really wanting to get up. Just then my stomach growls so hard it hurts, so I force myself to sit up. I'm still in the black strapless dress that I wore all day yesterday. It's cutting into my chest, leaving a red line where the top ends. I stand up and unzip it, letting it slip down my waist and onto the ground.

Naked, I walk to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I look like a complete mess, like I'd spent the night running through the forest with a group of murderous men chasing me. Maybe I did, I can't really remember.

The skin around my eyes is gray. My eyes glimmer; even my eyelids feel exhausted. My mouth is puffy, my eyebrows are unplucked. Now that I'm looking at it, my waist looks smaller, and my skin is paler than usual. My gaze runs over the whole of my body. I look like a whole different person, and for the most part, not in a good way.

A tear rolls down my cheek. I wipe it away fast.

I'm fine. This is fine. I look fine.

I turn around and turn the shower on cold. I stand underneath the stream of water, letting the steady downpour of liquid wash away not only the dirt on my skin, but also all of the emotions and hopes and sins that I've held in for all too long.

It's like a vault in my chest has opened. A vault that held all of the sadness, the anger, the confusion. My chest aches, like someone punched me hard in the ribs. Tears are forming from my eyes like a river, mingling with the water from the shower and following it into the drain. Everything let out, everything washed down. The crying is only making my head hurt even more, but I can't stop crying now. I try to ignore the throbbing in my skull.

I'm all alone. I'm dead. My family, friends, future... everything is gone. Just like the water flowing into the shower drain. Gone. I feel my legs trembling, so I sit down on the floor of the bath, bringing my knees up to my forehead and wrapping my arms around my legs to hold them in place. My body shakes with uncontrollable sobs. I can't hold it in anymore. So it's coming out.

I cry until my throat is sore and my eyes are red and burning. I twist the water off, open the shower curtain, and grab a fresh, dry towel. Patting myself off, I step out onto the white tiles of the bathroom. Once again, my eyes find my reflection in the mirror. Ugh.

When I walk back out into the main area of my room, I see something on the kitchen counter that wasn't there before. I walk over to the strange pile of objects - clothes. There is a hot pink sticky note on the top. In messy black handwriting, it reads:

Something to cover yourself with, Barbie bitch.

I almost laugh, but my chest feels so empty and cramped that I barely have enough power to breathe. My lungs very well may collapse if I take too deep of a yawn.

Angel must have brought me these. He's the only person (not person... demon) who would call me Barbie bitch. Why, though? Angel isn't the type of person to go out of his way to do something nice for someone.