Blaze
Glancing at my reflection in the mirror, I again don't recognize the woman staring back at me. Instead of someone with a polished updo and perfect makeup, I look alive. More alive than I have in months. Turning my head from side to side, I see my neck bears the evidence of what happened a few minutes ago with Trevor.
Reaching up, I run my fingers along the already purpling bruises and finish taking down the hair he wrecked with his fingers.
Luckily for me, I curled it before I put it up. Using my fingers and a comb I found in one of the drawers in the bathroom, I go to work, trying to make it look less “just been f****d" and more “beachy waves". Once the hair is as good as it's going to get, I take in my face with a critical eye. My lipstick, true to my words earlier, still hasn't
