Anonymously

"Is this what you thought of me? Anonymously?"

 

Justine closed her eyes and leaned on the side of the tub. She let herself sink, feeling the cool water rise from her chest, to her slender neck, up to her chin. She wanted to sink lower, but her long body wouldn't permit it. Her feet were already touching the other end of the tub, and she didn't want to bend her knees, simply because she didn't want to see the bruises.

 

She rubbed her thumb and forefinger on the small blade on her right hand, feeling the alternating smoothness and roughness of it. She almost dropped it, but she held it fast. She wouldn't want to lose this blade. This was her way out.

 

She opened her eyes, and they fell on the petals floating on the water. She let out a soft whistle, and sent a couple of petals fluttering away from her, revealing her white stomach. She inhaled the sweet scent of the bath - a mixture of rose and jasmine, her two most favorite scents. The subtlety of the rose and the sweetness of the jasmine blended perfectly. It was the perfect way - the perfect night - to die.

 

Slowly she sat up straight, and wiped her left hand on a towel nearby. She didn't let go of the blade, and she wouldn't, the entire night. She picked up the orange paper neatly folded beside the towel, and read it again. It was her suicide note, of course, and she had spent almost the entire afternoon writing and rewriting it. She wanted to say something profound, something people would remember her by, something that would make her immortal in the minds of her friends, but she knew she didn't need to. She'll always be the "rebound girl". And that made her famous.

 

She knew she never should have drunk much that night. But, she was desperate. She needed him. She wanted him. And she would do anything to get him. Even making herself a fool in front of the whole world.

 

And, now that she had him - or was it that he had her? - she felt the emptiness return. It was more painful than when she longed for him. The hole in her chest became bigger. She didn't expect him to be like that. What she DID expect was what he told her. He called her by a different name. Of course, he called her Aly. But what hurt her the most was, when he woke up beside her, all sobered up and thinking straight, he asked for her name. Because he FORGOT.

 

"Jesus. He didn't even know my name."

 

She folded the paper neatly, and placed it beside the towel. Now that she had him, there was nothing else in the world. She found no reason to continue her existence in this world of double-standards, of random sex, and of indifference. She inhaled deeply, and placed the blade close to her throbbing wrist. She started humming.