She sat, shoulders slumped forward, on the bed. The light filtered in a most unappealing way through the motel curtains.
“Go” she said. “Just go.”
Johnny reached for his denim shirt on the bedside table. He sighed as he looked at her forlornly. Still he said nothing.
The light was blinding as he walked out the door, slicing through the semi-dark of the room.
Once he was gone, she went into the bathroom and wet her face. The shock of the cool water a welcome change from the heat.
He was gone. This time for real. A tribute to disposable relationships.
She examined the girl in the mirror closely, and she silently despised her.
Taking a deep breath, she dragged the razor across her belly. Slowly and with purpose. She needed to bleed away the pain. Needed the blood to renew her.
Then she promptly passed out on the floor.