She awoke heavy lidded, head pounding, the taste of alcohol still on her tongue. The sun shone bright and obtrusive through the large, bare window opposite the bed she was lying in. Moving boxes cluttered the floor and written on the was the word "bedroom" and the name "Lacey" in bold, black permanent marker.
"Where am I?" she asked herself
She rubbed her eyes with careful pressure, yawned and looked lazily to her right. Startled, she gasped and jumped expeditiously out of bed, confused with a heavy weight in her stomach.
Lying next to her was a female form; soft white legs, small features, exposed-round breasts.
"What the fuck happened last night?", she wondered while studying the girl.
Quiet, with conscious movement, she made her way to the door, turned the nob slowly, and walked into the hall clutching at her breasts a leopard print sheet that told of the previous nights affair. Looking around for any sign of life she ran on her tip-toes stealthily into the bathroom, shut and locked the door behind her and collapsed against it.
"I couldn't have...did I really? I wonder if it was...", she stammered aloud
Steadying herself and pressing her cold feet into the azure rug she walked to the sink, head down, afraid to meet her own gaze in the mirror. She stood for several minutes staring into the white porcelain sink trying to recall the night before, running over and over in her mind "Lacey...Lacey...Lacey...".
With the courage of a possum she lifted her head and met her own reflection. She observed the way her hair was pushed this way and that and the heavy make-up smeared beneath her eyes; it was obvious she had enjoyed the rendezvous. Young and pale she stood before the mirror changed in a way she never could have imagined.
She let go of the sheet she was still unconsciously clutching against her body and observed how thin she had become. It was more than a month since she had eaten anything more than a slice of bread of a piece of fruit. She marveled at the manner in which her collar bone protruded and ribs stuck out, a testament to her struggle. Tracing with her finger from breast to navel, navel to hips, she noticed how bruised her hips were; trying to focus on the purple circles beneath her dermis, rather than the scars that mapped her thighs.
Trying to avert her attention out of the bathroom window to the cars rushing by, still standing naked before the mirror, she began to weep.
How had she come to this place; not only the night before, but in life? She didn't know herself any more; loud, flamboyant, throwing herself at anyone who took courage to show her the least bit of attention. She was drinking now more than ever; vodka, whiskey, gin, beer, anything to numb the pain and quiet the noise inside her head.
As she turned on the leaky faucet the water ran cold and languidly down the drain. She cupped her hands like she was awaiting communion and let the water fill them slowly. Lowering her frail frame she splashed her face with the cold water as if baptizing herself to be absolved of her sins. Bracing herself against the sink she felt her legs go numb and stomach turn; she knew she was more sick than she let on, and no one could take away the pain she was hiding.
"I've got to get out of here before she wakes", she told herself.
Leaving the sheet in a pile on the bathroom floor she walked naked and confident across the hall back into the Lion's den; the room that previously witnessed tangled legs and entwined bodies moving with the rhythm of a sacred dance.
She collected her things from the floor, and slipping into her favorite blue dress she moved quietly, careful not to wake the body that now knew hers so well.
Boots on, bag slung over her shoulder she smoothed down her short blond hair and grabbed her sweater from a chair. And just before leaving the room she looked back over her shoulder one last time at the girl lying in the bed and thought,
"At least she was beautiful".