When I woke up Joe was still asleep. I looked at the time. Four hours passed. I wobbled over to the bed, still tired and nudged Joe. He groaned and opened one eye.


“Oh man, what time is it,” he said sleepily.

“It’s 12.”

“You’re mom is working late tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“God, I’m so tired. Can I crash here?”

“Doesn’t matter to me.”

“Do you have any of my clothes still here?”

“Yeah. We’ve even given you your on drawer,” I said with a smile. Joe often left articles of his clothing at my house. My mom usually just washes them and puts it the laundry room dresser.

I went downstairs to the laundry room and opened up the bottom drawer. I pulled out an old tee and some sweats and went back upstairs.

I threw the clothes at him and grabbed some of my own. I retreated into the bathroom to take a shower.

When I got out I stopped in front of the mirror and looked at myself. I shuddered at my face. I can’t believe he made me stop wearing my precious make up. I clearly needed it.

Tears started streaming down my face. I didn’t know what to do anymore. All my efforts are gone to waste. Nothing helped anymore. This was my face and I had to live with it. I stormed out of the bathroom and got on my bed.

I glanced at the full length mirror in the corner of my room. The little crack had branched out and was now inching toward the center of the mirror.