Love Without Tragedy | JB | a.u| BWWM | COMPLETE

Two.

My 5:30am alarm went off and I slowly climbed out of bed.

My body ached and I felt so filthy but I knew I had to live on, carry on.

I took my usual 20 minute shower, making sure I scrubbed each and every inch of myself to rid myself of last night's horror.

It took me a while to get ready. Every morning when I stepped in the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror, I hated what I saw. It actually broke my heart and so often, I didn't see myself in the mirror. I saw my mom. So, every morning when I stepped in the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror, I cried to let out the pain that lived in me every day. I wanted to start each day off right and the only way I could wear a smile on my face at work was if I'd let out some real emotion.

I walked back to the bedroom after I'd brushed my teeth and I put on my uniform.

Randy was still asleep.

I wondered how he managed to sleep through the night because I always felt filthy. I showered twice a day but the feeling never left my body. I felt like a sinner that Jesus had forgotten about when He took the fall for us all. I felt forgotten by heaven. I felt like an outcast. Within my own body, what I liked to call my true self-- my spirit-- was disgusted of me too.

My shadow was the only one that stuck around but, a shadow only stuck around because it had no other choice. It never even stuck around after dark. After dark, when I was home, I didn't want to be myself anymore. Just like my own shadow, I wanted to be able to escape myself and the physical and emotional pain that took over my body when I saw Randy.

I piled on my makeup as I did every morning: layers upon layers of foundation, just to hide my bruises and even out my skin tone. I put on some lipstick, some neutral eyeshadow and mascara, then I put on some perfume and had an apple and a banana for breakfast before walking to the station to catch my train to work.

As instructed, I stopped at Mr Smith's office as soon as I got to the hotel and he gave me a list of requirements this Justin Bieber had given him.

This man knew what he wanted. With requests like his, he might as well had been Obama. Mr presidential.

Even though my body ached from all of last night's activity, I set to work and I put my all into each and every inch of that suite that I cleaned. I took my time because the longer I spent there, the cleaner the room would become and the more I'd delay my trip home.

The view here was amazing. I stopped working for a moment to take it all in: the city and the other buildings surrounding the hotel, the sky... It weakened me and all of a sudden, crazy thoughts came to mind like, how long it would take for me to land on the ground if I jumped from this very floor. I remembered that heaven hated me and that I'd most likely feel the pain when I hit the ground after jumping. I was pretty sure other suicidal people died mid-air. But I was Dileah Banks.

I wiped my tears and continued working. In the all-white bathroom, I scrubbed the basins, floors, shower and toilet as best as I could then wiped down the big oval mirror and I left a brand new robe on the bathroom counter. In the bigger-than-neccesary bedroom, I changed the linen on the king size bed, changed and curtains on the ceiling to floor window, got some extra pillows, cleaned the big window and vacuumed the luxurious carpet twice. I puffed up the cushions on the couch in the living room area that was fit for a king, cleaned the glass coffee table and dusted the furniture, I cleaned the small dining table and chairs and left, on the table, some newspapers Mr Smith had brought up.

I sat at the window to relax for a minute. I was done and my body ached but I didn't want to go home. I actually wanted to curl up right here and stare at the city until dark so I could see how pretty it all looked when the lights came on.