| Twenty-One |

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July 2020

As I check into the motel, I find myself in disarray. My mind is fuzzy and my head hurts. I thank the clerk when she hands me the key to my room. The sun is bright and it's hot out. My mouth is dry and my eyes squint to the sky.

I lock the door to my room and draw the curtains. There's an odd smell lingering but when I scan the room, it looks somewhat clean. Dusty and unused, but clean. I unpack my bag and place a pile of clothes on the couch.

Old pipes in the bathroom moan in the silent air. I pull out my medication and toss two pills in my cotton mouth. Swallowing without water, I ease at the soreness of them running down my throat dryly.

I close my eyes and rub my temples. I'm tired and my body hurts. I snap out of it and gain conscious of my surroundings. I'm back home in a motel. I don't know how long I will be here but it seems like it'll be for a while.

I place my laptop on the desk and light the little table lamp on. All I need is to think and be in complete control. I am in control because I have control of myself. I got this. Being collective is what will help me write this.

The end of the lost beginning.

They want me to do this.

I relax on the chair and place my phone at the corner of the desk. I receive a notification but put it on do not disturb. No one needs to know I'm here.

As my laptop loads, I proceed to open the blank document and stare at the only thing written on it. My name.

It's haunting and deceitful. I need something that will help me become someone new. Someone that can heal.

I place my head against the edge of the desk. The hard, sticky wood placing pressure on my skull as I think. The highway is loud and the music blasting from the car in the parking lot is louder. Think, think, think. What is something to help me and this unbearable pain?

It's so hot inside, my back is running down with sweat. My forehead is pricking with droplets. The top of my lip is wet. My palms are shaking and I'm debating whether this is a bad idea.

~*~

I wake up to my phone ringing. My alarm is reminding me that life isn't all sleep. Rubbing my forehead from the hard desk, I feel an intent from the rough surface. Turning to the drawn curtains, I yawn and stretch my sore back.

It's cooler in here which means the sun has set outside. I sigh at the satisfaction but the white screen of my laptop still lingers. Slamming it shut, I push it away for a moment...or night. I check my phone and browse through the notifications.

Maybe write something that resonates with you. Your collection of poetry was absolutely beautiful, I'm sure you can use that creativity and make something into a story.

Swiping out of the email, I place my phone on the desk and make my way to the shower. There's rust and muck lingering on the tiles but a motel is better than a hotel. Cheaper for my sake too.

I rub my arms as I wait for the shower to warm up. Walking back into the room, I undo my carry-on and pull out some clothes. Removing my hygiene bag, I take it to the bathroom with me. It starting to get steamy and the heat is clashing with my cool body. I slowly undress and wipe the condensation off the mirror.

Inspecting my face, I've gone frail. I am translucent. My eyes are sagging and the bags have gone gravely dark. As I stare at my reflection, picking at every flaw glazing back at me. Slowly bringing tears to my eyes.

Inhaling sharply, I go into the bag and take out a pair of medical scissors. Pulling some of my hair down, I begin cutting and cutting and cutting. Pieces of hair falling into the sink. Other clumps hitting the yellow-tinted floor.

As I sob, clipping my hair into bangs to forget who I am. To get away from my past and slowly move on. Avoid the eyes that have witnessed it all. To leave it all behind and finally build the courage to heal. The scissors chatter onto the sink and without cleaning up, I climb into the tub.

Boiling hot water scorching my back. My arms and legs becoming beat red from the force. Maybe it was a bag idea to return. What if someone I remember notices me? How can I completely avoid them?

I am nothing but a broken record, a lost soul, a forgetful body. I have no reason to be here anymore but the idea of writing something in the place I cared for...seems comfortable. Maybe I should've told someone. But no one would seem to care enough to stop me from going backwards.

I promised I'd come back.

~*~

As I drive along the quiet roads, I tap my fingers along the steering wheel in beat to the music. It's so free and open on the service road that I can drive on it all night. I rub the bottom of my eye and smudge some eye makeup.

Cursing under my breath, I fix it at a red light. I frizz my dried bangs too. The bathroom in the motel still a complete mess. Turning down to the port, I look for street parking. Eventually I find myself walking into a restaurant and heading straight to the bar.

For a weekday, it's a bit busy since it's the summer. However, I find myself pulling at the sleeves of my shirt. Hurrying to the bar, I find a stool and sit on it. There are older men surrounding me watching the baseball game off the large television screens.

Some glance my way so I hold my head up and hide the manic screams from within. Making sure the counter isn't wet, I pull out a small notepad from my purse. I retrieve a pen from my jacket pocket and place them on the counter.

"What can I get for you?" The bartender asks, leaning his arm on the counter. I give him a courteous smile and brush my hand through my hair. New hair, maybe this can be the start of something new. Except writing something ridiculous.

"Gin and tonic, please." I hold my toothy grin and he gives me a wink. "Thank you," I add once he walks away and begins making my drink.

Opening to a new page of my notepad, I begin jotting some ideas. I find myself working better in a busy environment instead of being alone with my thoughts. It helps me not stray away from reality.

He places the drink on a small cocktail napkin and I thank him once again. Staring up at the television, I watch the men cheer at a home-run. Tapping my pen against the wooden counter, I take a sip of the drink.

My mouth tightens at the strong taste of gin. He purposely made it strong. I give a quick glance towards his direction and he is laughing with the other bartender about something. He's good looking but not my type. 

Alcoholic. I write.

I look over my shoulder and watch a bunch of girls laughing together. They all look around the same age—close to their thirties. Too old for me to know who they are if they even are from the area.

Friendship. I add.

How stupid can I be to forget that one.

Gnawing at the end of the pen, I stare at the two words. Slowly, I begin writing more words down, easy and simple. Nothing that can create anything too dynamic for me right now.

Overtime, I down my first drink and the bartender makes me an identical. My head is slowly buzzing since I haven't eaten since I landed at the airport.

When I place my glass down, someone's falls in motion with mine. Holding my breath, I turn to my right and the unforgettable smile is grinning at me.

"Look what the cat dragged in." His low voice booms with the excitement I've been looking for. Or to find within me.

Sarcastically, I look down and search the dark floor. He follows my gaze until I say, "There's a cat here?"

Pulling over a stool, Darin sits down next to me and I slowly close the notepad. His drink is half drank. His white button down rolled halfway above his dark arms. He laughs and his eyes never pull away from mine.

Darin and I went to school together. We were friends but nothing more, nothing less. You know the saying when you go away to college, you lose your home friends. We lost connection.

"You changed your hair." He points at my bangs. I pat them down nervously, sheepishly smiling.

"Is it bad?" I ask him and he is taken aback.

"Oh, no, no." He shakes his head. "It suits you." I feel my cheeks burn red.

"Thanks," I take a sip of my drink and place it back down on the counter. Feeling the cold condensation on the glass. Rubbing my stained lipstick off it.

After a moment of silence, Darin shifts in his seat. "So, what have you been up to?" He offers up the conversation and I furrow my brows.

"What?" I slowly glance over my shoulder and search the restaurant. I make eye contact with unfamiliar faces. Darin follows my stare with an unsteady look on his face.

I'm going to scare him off.

"What," He copies, a weary smile still on his dark rose lips. I blink a few times and shake my head.

"It's just I—" I begin stuttering so I retrieve my drink again and press it against my lips. I thought maybe he was with someone—or a group trying to fool me. Beg Darin approach me and make fun of the way I look or the way my shirt is too big for my narrow body. How my eyes sag a little and my hair has become thin.

Darin raises his hand and knocks the top of my head as though it's a door.

"Still thick headed, I see?" I snort at his comment and catch myself laughing.

"I guess," I agree, watching him take a swig of his drink. He finishes it and calls over the bartender. He asks for a new drink.

Darin wipes a wet spot off the counter with a napkin and chuckles to himself.

"How are you?" He asks me again and I swallow the bile in my throat.

No one has really asked me that in a long time.

Terrible, horrendous, I don't want to be here anymore. I wish I wasn't alive.

"I'm good," I grin, staring down at his nice shirt. The way his pants come up a little... "Done with school and just trying to figure out what I want to do." I add, nervously running my finger along the rim of my drink.

"Nice, I'm working with a cooperate business. It's not my favorite thing to do but it's a decent job."

"No more basketball?" I question and he shakes his head. A photogenic smile on his lips. I remind myself to jot down features on my list. 

"Not anymore. Once I was done with college, I decided to close that chapter. I still play at the gym with the boys."

"I miss playing too. Wish I played in college." I think about the offers I had for the sports I played. I just didn't have any motivation... 

"Remember that one time?" I furrow my brow and try to think of all the times I've been with Darin.

"No, you'd have to remind me." I tease, unaware that he believes me and still proceeds to carry on with the story.

"In gym class? We got into an argument about the basketball game."

I shake my head, "It's been so long."

Darin eyes never leave mine, his firm, strong handsome face making me feel whole.

"Well, it felt like yesterday to me." He mutters adoringly.

Just like that, something clicked inside me. As he is telling me the story, for once, I'm not the one telling it. He is. The way he is creating 'characters' from the people we knew, mimicking their voices with different personalities that I can think of.

With everything that happened, I'm finally being noticed as a being. The little thought of him asking me what I've been doing makes my heart beat again. I'm glad he doesn't know much about me anymore. I've changed a lot and it could be for the greater good. It makes me feel safe.

~*~

There's going to be some flashbacks! Little hints here and there and it might get psychological
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