“Fucking whore.”

Sitting in a corner of the cold, damp bathroom, Spencer started a bit, not realizing she had spoken the words aloud.

“Wonderful, now I’m talking to myself,” she grumbled as she tried to concentrate on her task, willing her hands to stop shaking. The pale wash of the moonlight wasn’t bright enough for her to see well, and she knew that she shouldn’t continue without turning on a lamp. Oh well. Not like doing this wrong would really matter; the outcome would still be the same.

Spencer’s jaw clenched and unclenched as she thought about the girl who had cracked her reserve and broken her soul. Ashley didn’t love her anymore. She probably never loved her. Lusted for her, yes. But when you break it down, isn’t that what love really is? Lust doesn’t disguise itself behind masks of gentle words and soft touches. Lust doesn’t suddenly unmask its false face and reveal the monstrosity beneath.

Spencer once again laughed at her own naivety for believing in something as foolish as love, and the sound reverberated sickeningly off the tiles. “Serves me fucking right for ever believing that someone…would…ever…care…about…me.” Her words choked out in a forceful staccato as she banged her fist repeatedly against her thigh. She had trusted Ashley, opened herself up, let the girl into her heart, and for what? True to form, Ashley had cheated on her only weeks into their so-called relationship.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer, I was so fucked up that night. She didn’t mean anything, I swear to you! I would never do anything to hurt you. You have to believe me!”

Oh yeah, Ashley? Too fucking late for that. Spencer let a slow, sick grin spread across her face, and as she raised her eyes to the shadowed mirror above her, she no longer recognized her reflection. It was a strangely cathartic feeling, and she felt at peace for the first time in months, even as she balled her left hand into a fist and shattered her image, punishing it for mocking her.

“Go to hell,” she whispered at the one jagged piece of glass remaining in the frame. Tugging it free, she let the sharp edge run along her index finger and watched as a small trickle of her vitality began to flow towards her wrist. The same hand that had once been clasped with Ashley’s, caressed her, been inside her, touched every inch of her. Spencer pressed a little deeper with the shard, wanting the blood to completely coat her fingers, effectively cleansing away their deceptions.

Sighing and shaking her head to bring back her focus, Spencer tore her eyes away from her hand, wiped it on her jeans, and once again picked up the small clear object lying next to her. “It’s all a lie,” she thought sadly, silently cursing everyone who had ever told her that love was patient, kind, never failed…such a fucking lie. And she hated herself for believing them.

Stretching her arm out in front of her and pushing up her sleeve, she readied herself for the one feeling that was more intensely gratifying than even the most powerful orgasm Ashley had ever given her. Tapping the needle slightly, she ran her tongue around the edges of her mouth, already tasting the cocaine in her lips, biting them in anticipation. There would be no more hurt, no more anger, no more desperation, and no more regrets after tonight. Finally, her tortured mind would be silent.

As her eyes slowly unfocused and the waves of chemical ecstasy washed over her, Spencer wondered briefly who would find her here, needle still gripped between bloody fingers. And it all ceased to matter as her eyes began to drift shut for the last time, finally allowing her into a place where deceit and agony didn’t exist.