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I strike the side of my head with my bloodied fist until I think I’ll knock myself out.
Black ink slithers from the mirror and swallows my feet, my knees, and my thighs. I grab a piece of the mirror and press on it.
Blood pours out of my fingers, and with it, the ink rushes out of my bloodstream and dissipates from around me.
I let the glass fall to the sink and exhale harshly. Streaks of red line the white porcelain and drops of blood follow in quick succession. I let my life essence pour out of me as I look at my reflection—hair glued to my temples and my eyes glassy. Dead.
It’s done. I’m calm.
I’m back to being in control.
But I can’t stare at myself too long. Otherwise, it’ll come back.
My gaze falls on the blood that’s gushing from the cuts in my fingers, soaking my palm, the back of my hand, and forming a small pool in the sink.
It’sdone.
All I have to do is pretend last night never happened.
I’m a master at pretending. Have done it my whole life and have always succeeded.
This isn’t any different.
My movements are mechanical as I wash my hand, biting my lip against the pain. Dark, forbidden images invade my brain. Teeth nibbling on my swollen lip, bruising, devouring—
Stop.
My hand shakes as I hit the tap shut and bandage my cuts.
I’m about to step into the bedroom when I catch a reflection of my distorted image and I have to look away before my face becomes black again.
Wait…
Please don’t tell me that’s what I think it is.
I get closer, tilting my head back, and, sure enough, there’s a dark-purple hickey near my jaw and another at my Adam's apple.
That fucking—
I expel a long breath and exit the bathroom, pulling on my hair and nearly toppling everything in my wake.
My movements are frantic as I put on my running shorts and T-shirt. My body is begging me to sit this one out and give myself time to recover from the hangover, but if I do that, I’ll just allow myself time to think.
Ican’tthink.
Not after the blood fest this morning.
I rush back into the bathroom and slap two plasters against the hickeys. If anyone asks, I’ll say I cut myself while shaving.
Deny.
Forget.
Pretend.
My holy mantra will work its magic this time as well. Italwaysdoes.
I leave my room, pushing against the headache and the fog swimming in my mind. I just need a run and everything will get back to normal.
