BRUISES

| Twenty-Three |

Jules is outside of the building, hiding against the wall and taking a swig from her flask. I pretend I don't see it because I don't have any energy to lecture her every time she drinks outside of a social norm.

She pops—not one—but two mints into her mouth and teases her hair with her hands. Turning at my encountering shadow, her empty smile and pitiless eyes light up. Leaping onto me, she yanks me down into a hug and I choke from her hold again.

No matter the other girls, it will always be us. Together. Forever unknown to the future. The other girls have it planned out, they know what they will be doing. As for me, I'm confused with everything. As for Jules, she's a lost soul and an addicted to feeling the comforting depressant. Unfortunately Rubies did it and I feel for Jules as much as I felt for Rubies. We are just still alive.

"Thank you so much for coming, Theo." Jules says in my ear, planting a full kiss on my cheek. I rub the pink gloss off my skin with a wet thumb.

"Of course, Jules. I know how important these sessions are for you." I tell her, balancing on the wedge of my boots awkwardly. Jules hesitantly reaches for another mint and offers me one. Without hesitation, I pop one in my mouth to demolish the sour taste of words I want to tell her.

A man finishes his cigarette a few feet away from us and stomps the smoke out. With a desperate glare in his eyes, he flashes a grin as he mutters, "Ladies."

Jules waves with a long, thoughtful smile and I shutter at his voice. He walks into the building and I look at the time on my watch.

"Time to go." She urges on, looping her arm around mine as we both walk into the building. It's not something I'd expect. There is a hallway and various of rooms lit with fluorescent lights. My stomach begins to flip nervously as we cut right and enter a large room.

There is a table with cookies and warm coffee at the entrance. We stride past it and towards the circle that is surrounded with old, metal chairs. We are the youngest ones here—senseless to say for being twenty-five. Yet, every eyes I catch are old, burnt souls.

I write about these old, burnt souls and people read about the old burnt souls. Now they're in front of me, either staring into nothingness or like predators ready to pounce on me. Jules and I find a seat next to each other and she touches up her makeup with some powder.

Rubbing my hands together between my thighs, I take a frantic deep breath that pull gazes towards us. I'm not any better than them.

But you are, I tell myself. You are money and fame. You don't need anything else. You shouldn't even be here.

I bite my tongue to stop myself from talking out loud. To restrain my thoughts and gather the senseless and hopeless ones. I can see why they are looking at me differently because of the name brand of my purse and the pointed black boots.

Their voices are already lingering in the back of my head. A terrible, nuanced sound that is barking at me to leave. For a second, I find myself using every muscle in my legs to push out of the seat. Until a woman fondly dressed like me walks into the room.

"Good evening everyone." Her voice booms like fire and ice. Passion and power. Something I cannot do unless I'm writing it down. Afraid for confrontation.

There are slow hellos and good evenings throughout the group. More have entered after Jules and I and now there are only a few chairs missing. The heat radiating off my body is enticing the adrenaline. I slip out of my coat and let it rest on the back of the chair. Some people stare at the basic pattern inside my Burberry coat. My throat tightens.