The click of the key makes her pause for a second as she opens the door. Her father used to say that paranoia eats away at the soul... A look over her shoulder and the weary girl makes her way into the shabby flat she calls home.
Heading straight into the bathroom she strips off, not for the first time that night. Turning on the taps to fill a bath, the noisy gush of water distracts her from the hazzy feeling in her head.
She looks into the mirror, watching her face dissapear as the steam creeps over, leaving only a pair of dark, unrecognisable eyes visable. It almost seems hard to look away... Maybe if she looks long enough she might know what emotion is being portrayed from them.
The bath being full, she lowers her sore body slowly in, her skinny fingers gripping to the sides. As her body enters, a spiral of blood leaves her and floats through the water. Damage done from earlier. She watches first with disgust, then apathy.
As her body becomes comfortable with the heat she lies back and lets the water spread over her body, letting out a long breath of air. Closing her eyes she puts her head under the water, holding her breath until a pain forms in her throat and chest, and is no longer possible.
I sit up.
I never knew my life would end up being this way, as i study my pale, vulnerable ans "sexy" body.
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