The Devil In The Mirror

I

I rub my makeup smeared eyes with trembling fingers and bright white light engulfing me.
"Ara, hey, it's okay." My best friend holds me in her arms, petting my bright blonde hair.
"It will never be okay." I whisper.
~
I let the warm water envelope my pale skin, rinsing away any worries from the earlier morning. Dawn has come, bringing a pink and orange array of lights into the bathroom. Although the window, which was now opaque from the steam of the showering, aggravates me as I attempt to peak at the rising sun.
I wash my body in my favorite coconut soap and rinse my hair in mint and eucalyptus shampoo, calming my nerves and allowing my ever so loud mind to think.
Christ, what can I do?
I've moved from New York, bought a new apartment, changed my hair color, followed my dream...
But yet, I am cursed with nightmares in a never ending hell. Memories of torture that never leave my slumber and my infiltrate my thoughts with things I wish would never be there.
I shake my head and turn off the water, drying myself with a towel and wrapping it around my pale body.
Stepping out onto the balcony of my small apartment, I finally take a deep breath of the city and look at my view. Skyscrapers scatter the horizon and small shops with a beach next to it give me a sense of home. Home. California has always been my home. Having lived in Northern Cali beforehand for five years, this was forever and always my home. The place I truly remember growing up and being accepted. I find my pack of cigarettes and light one up, allowing the sweet nicotine into my body. I finish it and put it out before heading back in my simple but elegant apartment.
I take off my towel and head to my closet. I pick out a white tank top, black leggings, a black hoodie, and my tattered gray and black checkered Vans.
I blew dry my hair before putting it in a messy ponytail.
I grab my things and walk out of the apartment, leaving it's imprisonment for the first time in three months.
~
"Hi, grande iced caramel mocchiato." I say to cashier at Starbucks.
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
I pay for the drink and wait with the sound of a fake fireplace and the bustling coffee machines at work. The crisp smell of espresso soothes me.
"Iced caramel macchiato for Arayacelis!" I cringe at the pronunciation of my name as I grab my coffee.
My name is Aracelis, a Spanish name that means "alter of the sky". Depending on where you're from, my name is pronounced either Ah-Rah-THE-Lees or Ah-Rah-SE-Lees.
It's funny, my parents are Hispanic but I'm adopted and half Polish on my birth mother's side. My parents passed away when I was around two years old, along with my brother.
I don't remember any of them, but I've seen photos.
I sip my coffee as I exit the Starbucks, letting the bitter taste and caffeine take over me. I'm about to put in my earbuds when I hit someone, spilling my coffee all over them.
"Shit!" We both say at the same time.
"Fuck, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you on my way out."
"It's alright. I was meaning to get rid of this shirt anyway." The man chuckles at his white shirt. I stare up at the pale figure with crisp, shining blue eyes. I laugh a little at his joke as I attempt to wipe up the coffee.
"Really, it's fine." He says, snatching my wrist away from him. I sigh and shrug, throwing away the napkin.
"Alright, well again, sorry." I say, walking away. Soon, I'm yanked back.
"At least let me buy you a coffee." He smiles. I hadn't noticed how deep his voice was. He was intriguing me by the second.
Who was this mysterious man?
I decided to find out.
"Sure."