The room looked almost like a murder scene as she lay there satisfied with her piece of work. Her clothes lay perfectly stuck on her skin, scarcely covering, but she could care less. The emptiness in the room echoed and rang in her ears as she breathed heavily.

"Fuck" she breathed out the words too tired to even speak. The blood had stopped flowing, and the stickiness was less sticky as time passed slowly. Her satisfaction slowly turned to extreme pain and sadness. It was always like this; it always ended like this one way or the other. How fucked up could she be.

Tears rolled down the corners of her eyes as she stared blankly at the ceiling. She feared for herself, but it was the only way she kept living with herself. Why did it have to hurt this much, and why did the hurt feel good regardless? Would she die like this one day? 

She flinched with each movement as she tried to get up. The slashes on her left arm gave a dull pain as she relaxed her weight. Getting up from the place, she slowly walked to the bathroom and sat in the tub. She thought for a while, but they kept getting blocked by the nerve-wracking headache she started to feel.

"Shit" She was about to pick up the soap when it fell. The bathroom floor wasn't the best-looking one. Moving to a better apartment was the least of her priorities since her funds weren't at their peak. She slowly picked up the soap from the floor with a grimace but still used it; it was the only one she got. Removing the blood-soaked clothes, she turned on the shower. It felt cold on her skin, but she didn't mind. Unable to muster the right amount of energy, she sat there for almost 15 minutes before she could start washing off any residue of blood.

She stepped into her room which was just as she had left it. The dried knife left an unsettling feeling whe it lay just in the middle of little dried droplets of blood by her bed. She ignored it, proceeding to a small wardrobe before slipping into a black hoodie and shorts. As soon as she adjusted her top, her phone rang from where she had thrown it on the bed.

"What now?" Her voice didn't hide the reluctance she felt when she saw the name that popped on the screen- Jennifer. It was her partner from work. She never liked it there, but it paid her. The phone call wasn't the best of phone calls she would receive, it was short and impatient, but she didn't mind that. "Could you take my shifts tomorrow?" The voice from the other end had sounded in her ear, not asking. "Yeah," She had answered with indignation before hanging up. Exasperated, she threw her phone back on the bed. She couldn't complain because it meant additional pay. 

She sat at the edge of her bed, sluggishly picking up her phone again. As usual, nothing but stupid posts from people she couldn't care less about. "Ugh," She grimaced again when her eyes met the floor where the blood continued to dry off. She still hadn't cleaned it off, and it would be a hassle if she didn't do it now.

It was always like this. Unchanging. Unending. Fetching a little bowl from the bathroom, including a small cloth, she began wiping angrily at the floor. She also wiped the knife clean of dried stains that made her skin crawl. Everything was sickening, but she didn't try to get rid of it; it was all she had. By the time she finished, the water in the bowl had turned crimson. She poured all the content into the little sink in the bathroom and stared a little too long at the tiny mirror placed on the wall. The figure staring back was unrecognizable, but all she did was shrug at the hideous creature. Always. It was the same. If only she wouldn't feel like this, if only.

"Ahhh!" She grumbled as she walked away, not wholly understanding why she felt a wave of self-pity. She blew out air, willing herself to stop. It was only a while ago that she had a mental breakdown, and it wasn't a pretty sight. Rinsing off the last stains from the bowl and cloth, she left for her room, leaving them there. Dysphoria was all she could feel now, and it was not repulsive.

Climbing into her bed, she wrapped herself in the blanket and settled at the far end. It was almost 7 pm, and she had another job by 8 pm. She picked up her phone to set her alarm to ring at 7:45 pm. She threw the phone to the other end of the bed with the same motion before laying there, trying hard to get some sleep, but she couldn't. She tossed and turned, but there was no give. Time elapsed in slow and painful silence until her phone rang annoyingly, which she angrily turned off.

"Oh well, another day in my life," she said as she got up. She slipped her phone into her pocket and left through the door. Having no other thing to carry along, she turned the key and placed it in a second pocket with a sigh. Her head still throbbing, she moved through the busy street to the bar for her night shift.