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Dark.
My body moves without my power.
Dark.
I see a glimpse of my unshowered, battered body in the bathroom mirror as I somehow enter the bathroom.
Dark.
I bounce in and out of drunken consciousness.
I pray for the darkness to take me and sheath me in its numb oblivion.
Drifting.
Further.
Deeper.
Darker.
The torment of reality is gone for only a second before I’m hit in the face.
Literally, water rushes at me from the showerhead and disrupts my stupor.
My hand grips at the side of the tub, and air bursts from my mouth as Noah comes back into view, this time much clearer than she was before I started to pass out.
Dread anchors my heart as I see her, covered in blood, and I’m frantically moving.
Suddenly, I sober up significantly.
“Noah!” The wet sports shorts on my bottom half slow me down as I reach my hand to her face. “What happened, baby? Are you okay? Who hurt you? Oh, fuck! Did I … oh, shit … did I do this?” A stinging pain hits me as my body twists, and only then do I realize I’m covered in blood also.
“Shh.” Noah pushes my shoulders back. “Calm down, Brazen. You have glass everywhere. I’m not hurt. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me. You would never. The blood is yours.”
I look down, and my sight lingers on my blood-covered hands.
All at once, I’m aware of the glass shredding my skin.
Red mixes with the water soaking the bottom of the tub.
“Noah!” My voice breaks as I call out to her.
I need her. I need her so fucking bad.
“She’s gone, Noah! She’s gone!” How can this be happening? Please wake me from this disaster of a fucked up realm of existence where Sunday no longer exists. My body shakes, and my heart hammers.
Noah grabs some tweezers from the medicine cabinet and fully clothed, she climbs into the tub with me. Water rains down on us both as my blood stains her clothes once more.
Nothing has ever hurt like this. There is so much loss inside my soul.
“I love you, Brazen.” Her lips press against my chest. “I’m so sorry.”
My foggy head aches, and my stomach threatens a revolt, which I gag as I choke back. The day’s worth of drinking catches up to me, and the hours of running from what’s happened come crashing down hard.
“Sunday wouldn’t want this for you.” Noah tends to my many wounds.
“Does it really matter what she’d want?” I lie helpless in a lump in the tub.
