She's losing control again. She can feel herself unravelling. Of course, if it were just a problem for her, that would worry her.
But it isn't. Is it?
So many people relied on her.
Too many people.
She stands in the bathroom, staring into the mirror. An old woman stares back. At least, it is a woman older than she should be.
It wasn't that long ago, surely, that she was twenty years old?
She prods her face. It feels puffy but looks pale and gaunt.
Her eyes are bloodshot. From crying, of course. And from yet one more sleepless night.
She takes a deep breath and puts the plug in the sink. She runs cold water and then plunges her face into it. The cold is invigorating, but she doubts it will be enough. She holds her breath for as long as she can before pulling her face out of the sink and sucking in air. She rubs her face with the hand towel.
At least she no longer looks pale.
Her eyes are still bloodshot, but she has drops for that, and it is sunny out, so she can get away with dark glasses.
...
