one

It's cold. I wrap arms around myself in an attempt to bring myself some warmth, some comfort, but it doesn't seem to help. My body aches as I pull my knees up to my chest, laying on my side on the bathroom floor. The coldness of the floor eases the pain that throbs in my head. The queasy feeling in my stomach causes me to screw my eyes shut, hoping that it'll subside, but I could feel the bile rising in my throat. I don't make an attempt to move to the toilet though, I know I'm not going to throw up.

I don't know how long I've been laying here, but the loud crash from the other side of the door causes me to flinch. Despite how much it hurts, I push myself on to my hands and knees. I make my way to the counter, using it to help myself stand up. The reflection staring back at me is honestly horrifying. Sunken dark brown eyes surrounded by dark circles, smeared mascara covering my pale cheeks, chapped lips in desperate need for water, and short curly light brown hair filled with knots.

Stars fill my vision and I could feel myself starting to get light headed. I must've stood up too fast. The cold water fills my cupped hands as I bring them up to my face. The water didn't help. My hands start to shake once again and I find myself leaning forward. I place my elbows on the counter, entangling my fingers in my hair. I stare at the water droplets racing one another into the drain.

The phone rings.

I drag myself into the kitchen where my phone sits charging. I check the caller ID. Felicity. My best friend. The one that I told mostly everything. I declined her call. She calls back just for me to decline it again. Over and over again. I wasn't in the right state of mind to hold a conversation with her.

Another wave of nausea hit me like a truck. My heart started racing and my hands started to feel clammy. I placed them on the counter to keep them from shaking. I subconsciously run my tongue over my chapped lips. I drew in a sharp breath through my nose and let it out through my mouth, while doing so I tugged off the beaded bracelet that had been wrapped around my left wrist. I rubbed the beads between my thumb and pointer finger. Doing so brought some sense of calm.

There was a loud slam followed by another. I held my breath, counting the seconds it took for him to get here. He doesn't even pass a glance at mead he passes. I doubt he knows I'm here. My chest feels tight and my eyes begin to water. I blink multiple times, hoping that it'll help, but it doesn't. I press myself against the counter where my phone vibrates with every message. It just won't stop.

He found me. He stands at my only way out of the kitchen. His dark eyes were hazy, not quite able to focus on me. His dark hair is coated with sweat, sticking to his forehead.

"What're you doing?" I don't answer — I can't answer. For some reason the words won't come out. He steps closer and I can feel myself growing smaller. "What are you — fucking deaf? I said, what're you doing?" He's now an arms length in front of me. I can feel his breaths against my face. He kissed his teeth and shook his head, turning to leave.

I could still feel his hands on me. I could still feel his alcohol stained breath fanning across my face as he placed hungry kisses on my skin that glistened with sweat. His touch, no matter how featherlike, was always dizzying.

The way his hands were warm and rough, his long fingers wrapping around my neck. At first he had been gentle and I hadn't been expecting it, but then he tightened his grip and I could feel myself suffocating. I felt my eyes starting to sting and the edges of my vision fading to nothing. My thoughts slipped from my mind and the look of anger in his dark eyes was the only thing I could focus on.

He had told me how worthless I was, how I didn't deserve the things I had, and instead, how I deserved to suffer. He told me I was a waste of space and he'd do anything to get rid of me. But then he pulled away, his hand still wrapped around my neck, and said, but then who would keep me company?

The alarm on my phone begins to go off, pulling me out of my never ending nightmare. It's time to get ready for work.

The walk to the diner took no longer than twenty minutes. It was starting to cool down outside, gradually moving from the warm summer heat to the cool autumn breeze. I've always liked the cold. It allowed me to bundle up in layers, leaving me with a feeling of comfort. It was also a way to hide the bruises and scars without people questioning me.

I entered the small family owned diner. Behind the counter is a beautiful brunette. Her dark hair was perfectly curled, pulled into a high ponytail. A few strands framed her face. Her bright blue eyes fell on me and for a second she looks annoyed, but then she almost looks sad. A smile quickly forms on her face. I have no idea how the bright red lipstick didn't manage to stain her teeth.

"I've been calling you June. I was worried sick there, for a second. I thought something awful might've happened to you." Felicity sounds like she's hesitant to talk to me, a strange look in her eyes. Not answering her calls must've upset her more than I thought.

I shook my head and licked my lips. A nervous habit. "My phone was dead," I easily lied. It shouldn't be that easy to lie, but it's become a skill needed.

"I brought my charger if you wanna charge it here." I shook my head and walked through the kitchen, greeting her father who was currently cleaning the stove. I placed my belongings in the back room in my designated locker, grabbing my apron and putting it on.

"So what's been going on lately?" I asked Felicity as I joined her behind the counter, hoping that this would distract her from the earlier situation. I began brewing a fresh pot of coffee when I noticed that I had a bruise on my wrist. She began going on about how she had met a new dude at the bar last night and how she was less than impressed with what he had to offer. Especially since what he had to offer didn't last more than three minutes. I moved my watch from my left to my right hand, hoping it'd cover the bruise. It did. "Still no Mr. Perfect?"

Felicity sighed and shook her head, "Still no Mr. Perfect." She paused before continuing, "How are you and Kieran?" There was hesitation in her voice when she said his name. We both studied each other. It was like she was searching my face for something, for anything. And I was doing the same to her. I was searching for her reason for asking about him. But nothing.

I smiled, "We're doing good, actually. Our three year anniversary is coming up. We haven't talked about what we wanted to do for it yet, but I'm sure we'll figure something out." Felicity nodded, but I could tell she wasn't satisfied with my answer. All I could do was offer her a soft smile and a shrug.

Thinking about my three year anniversary coming up with Kieran was actually shocking. It felt like I had been with him for a long time, longer than three years. We had met my junior year of college when I was twenty. He was in his first year of law school. At the time he was with a girlfriend but their relationship was rapidly failing. They broke up soon after we met and we ended up spending a lot of time together. My senior year of college was when he asked me to be his girlfriend. Of course I said yes. Everything was going so well. We went on spontaneous adventures and cute outings. Within a year of dating I moved into his apartment.

My first year of law school was when it all went wrong.

It was business as usual today. There weren't many people, an occasional family of tourists, a few older couples who have been coming here since they were around my age, and a few others here and there. It was getting late, almost midnight, when the bell above the door chimed. "Welcome to The Lucky Diner. I'll be with you in a sec." I closed the cash register after putting in a new set of quarters.

My dark brown eyes locked on a man about my age. Light brown hair that curled towards the ends, hazel eyes that were watching my every move. One of his hands were tucked into the pocket of his pants while the other one held a manila folder. I cleared my throat, "Just for one?" He nodded and I led him over to a booth at the secluded side of the diner. I placed a menu in front of him. "Can I start you off with a drink?"

"Yes. A coffee please." I nodded and went to retrieve his drink from the freshly brewed pot of coffee. I placed the hot cup of coffee in front of him on a coaster, his eyes following my every movement. He grabbed multiple sugar packets and began pouring them into his drink.

"What can I get started for you today?" I didn't bother with taking my pen and notepad out. I'd remember his order easily, after all it was just him.

"Uh..." He examined the menu, shaking his head. He looked over at me, his eyes drifting down to my wrist. I subconsciously moved my hands behind my back. "I think I'm alright for right now." I nodded and let him be.

Felicity joined me behind the counter, goggling at the man. "He's cute," she whispered, nudging me. I tilted my head to the side, watching him assess the papers he brought in with him. He ran a slender finger over the words, bringing his hand to his mouth, leaning his chin on it.

"Yeah... He is," I nodded. Felicity grabbed the coffee pot from the machine and sauntered over to him, swaying her hips. Her hair bounced with every step. She wore a flirty grin, a look that no guy could resist -- heck, she even managed to pull girls sometimes.

I observed as the familiar scene played out in front of me. Felicity did her usual head tilt, the light brush of her fingers on her target, her suggestive smirk that always lured them in. But he shook his head, declined the coffee, and looked past her. He looked at me. I swallowed, feeling the heat rush up my neck and to my cheeks. Felicity turned to stare at me. Her lips were slightly parted and her brows furrowed faintly. The two looked back at one another, shared a few more words, and she nodded, walking back towards me. The usual pep in her step was gone.

"What happened?" She didn't answer me, instead she just placed the coffee pot back into the machine and walked away to check on our other customers.

Someone cleared their throat, drawing my attention away from her and to them. It was the man with the manila folder. He pursed his lips and gave me a thin smile. He held out a five dollar bill which I took. "Thanks for the coffee, June." I nearly dropped his change at the mention of my name, which I'm pretty sure he noticed since he said, "It's on your name tag... and your friend told me."

I mumbled an 'oh' and handed him the money. "That was probably one of the best cups of coffee I've had in awhile." He pocketed the change and began to walk out, but before he did, he added, "I've also never seen a right handed person wear a watch on their right hand." I subconsciously looked down at my wrist, feeling the dull throb of the bruise as the watch pressed down against it. By the time I looked back up to explain my reasoning for doing so (with a lie of course) he was already gone.