I can still feel the throbbing from last night. My head feels like it's going to split open from the pain. My muscles don't want to move to bring me to work. I test to see if my toes still work, something most people don't even have to think twice about, they just know they will.

I stumble to the bathroom, avoiding the mirror at all costs. It doesn't need to stand there taunting me. It really should get a new hobby.

The shower's too cold. The stupid water heater in this stupid apartment is broken... again. The water beats down on my blue skin washing the blood and sweat off. I'm rushing, just trying to get out and to my sanctuary. I turn the water off and grab the grubby towel by the sink.

I really need to go to the laundry mat. It's the least he could do.

I shuffle over to my vanity and grab my consealer.

Couldn't they sell this in a tub, these little containers are such a hassle to have to replace.

I struggle into my black turtle neck and matching black slacks. 'Work Approved' he said. That was one experience I won't be repeating. It's easier to be a push-over than to be pushed over.

The 8x8 cubical. Tan walls and just an opening for a door. No window. Most people see it as some sort of prison. I saw it as a freeing environment when I could laugh and speak, even when not spoken too. I could write emails with our saying 'sir' and I didn't have to ask to visit someone's for a stapler. Or maybe just talk to someone about the weather or sports. Maybe ask how there say was. Maybe flirt with the cute FedEx guy.

No, absolutely not. How can I even think like that?

"Hey Bella!" My head shot up at the sound of Jessica's chipper voice. I was typing an email to my boss's, boss's, boss about a retreat Phil wants all the secretaries to take. It doesn't matter. I wouldn't be allowed to go anyway.

"Um, hi Jess."

"Some people are going to Bella Italiana for drinks after work, you in?" I wanted to go. I really wanted to go. Would he mind? Should I ask him?

Skrew him! Go to the bar if you want to go to the bar you stupid bitch! I hate my subconscious sometimes. But others, I really needed to just listen to it.

"Yea, sure. I'll be ready in five. Just let me finish this email from Phil to Mr. Banner."

"Okay! Meet us by the elevators"

Jessica was sweet. She was the office gossip queen and I'm pretty sure slept with Phil to get her promotion, but she's always been nice to me, so who am I to judge?

Send. Okay. I can go now. I made my bed now I have to lie in it. I told them I would go. So I have to go. I make my way to the elevator thinking of not calling.

Do you have a death wish girl?

No. I should call when I get to the bar.

"Are you finished Bella?" I looked up to see Jessica staring at me. Probably taking in my expression of dread.

"Yea, let's go."

Bella Italiana was a nice place. I should call him now." I'll be right back Jess, just need to use the ladies room."

I shakily dialed the numbers. He picked up on the first ring.

"Where the fuck are you?" Oh crap. Why didn't I call. Why, why didn't I call first.

"I-I'm sorry. Jessica and some girls from work wanted to go to get a drink. I hope that's okay."

"Well it would have been nice for you to ask! You never consider anyone but yourself. How dare you not call me and tell me! I was so fucking worried you stupid bitch! How can you just disappear!"

"I-I-I'm so so sorry." The tears start coming. "I should have asked. I should have made sure it was okay."

"You're damn right you should have asked! And stop your blubbering. You disgust me. Where the fuck are you anyway? Some trash pile probably."

"Bella Italiana..."

Click.

I should have called. Why did he just hang up? Is he coming here? I hope not. Not in front of my friends.

I need to calm down. I wipe the smeared make-up from my face. Fuck. I wiped away consealer, not just the smeared mascara. When I wiped blue is revealed, like scratch art, like sick disturbing scratch art.