Alexi couldn’t sleep, tried for hours to fill an empty bed with a man she used to know. Now nothing more than the overbearing idea of a man. His voice always pressed against the back of her eyes, made them bulge from the pressure.

“What are you wearing make up for?”
“Who are you texting, your other boyfriends?”
“Slut. I’m too good for you.”

She bloomed when she was with them, but always they would take away the water and sun too soon. Alone, she stood with a bent back on tired legs, groped in the dark for oxycontin that didn’t belong to her. As she turned, she saw her tired face and sunken eyes, the reflection of a woman who was nothing without her men. Alexi had seen the face before a hundred times and every time she prayed to every god to never see it again but there it was, always in front of her. With every passed love affair her reflection became more monstrous, contorted by years of anger and pain.
“Get out of here,” she said with a fool’s hope, “you worthless piece of shit, get out of here!”