Diligence.

My head begins to pound from the over powering aroma, the smell reminds me of the women you see coming out of a cheap motel, the kind you can still smell after they passed by you five minutes prior

It feels like someone bite my foot I look down and there's a shard sticking out of my flesh and swolen deep into the meaty part of my heel. The blood makes puddles around the tile and small blots onto the nearby white shag carpet.

I don't panic.

I swing open the medicine cabinet and take out the tweezer, you always have to make sure to get it all. I roll up a wade of toilet paper and begin to operate. Biting my lower lip the seemingly smooth glass starts cutting its way outside of my body; as I blot the blood away. It leaves quit a hole which I pour anticeptic in causing an eruption similar to a science experiment.

There's a knock on the door.

I ignore it. I know he's out there but, he can wait. I start to put the supplies away.

Still the knock increases.

I close the medicine cabinet and wash my hands diligently from the blood and cotton. I look up and Brady is standing behind me. I see him for a moment then all I can see is my reflection in the mirror, its one of worry and alarm... I know I want him to go, but I know I can't make him.

I turn around and walk towards him with arms open.

Lacey Run.

There is something about pillows that make me feel comforted like an old lover holding you in your vacancy. I stack them up high around me like a mound.

In the comfort I can feel the drip and I know there is no way to sleep, not in this paranoia. I pound back two tall boys and a bowl and watch my hands slowly caress the pillows...I know I can sleep...now.

The table keeps echoing the same vibrations from Brady's relentless power struggle.

Lacey get your ass over here.

I know that there are most likely three other woman receiving the same message from him a pure way of putting all your eggs in three separate baskets. I pick up my phone and start texting an ex boyfriend who I haven't seen in five years. The description of my blouse and the local of my hands entices him to create an explicit conversation.

Do I dare to keep it up?

I tell him that I want him and that I need him and that I wish he was laying besides me. Then I press send, but its not his name on the screen it's Brady. As soon as it vanishes my phone starts to vibrate.

I'm on my way! =)

"Fuck!" I scream, while running to the bathroom. I reach for the towel accidentally toppling over my perfume and smashing the glass vile. The room is now overpowering with the smell of mildly cheap cologne. I scrap my face with the wash clothe and tear off my clothes it must look like I've been sleeping for an hour or more. He'd buy that right? I'd buy that. I'd buy anything.

Lacey.

(first off I apologize for the last piece of shit entry)

I look down at my phone again. It just won't stop the vibrating every night with the drunk texting. It was cute at first and now its becoming unbearable, the constant struggle over whether or not he means well or he is blacked out again.

"I hate you!" I roll my eyes slamming the phone.

Lacey come out, please...

It hasn't always been like this. There wasn't always this constant power struggle, even though I've been winning this whole time; or at least I like to think that I've been winning.

I walk over to the table and reach for my wallet, pulling out a money tree plastic card. Its a source of embarrassment and relief. I throw my body against the bed, something about the flop is always comforting like being caught in your father's arms in the deep end of the pool.

The table is relatively clean just a few pieces of paper lying about, the usual bills. Under the table I pull a small jar that my mother gave to me the last time she went with "Uncle" Charlie to Tahiti. The smooth round jar is cold clay with an emerald color lining. Pulling out my safety pack I take a pinch of powder and fill the table using the money tree card to divide and conquer.

I snort the line.

I go to the bathroom to run some water around my nose, the numbness always throws me off. The aspirin tasting drip is like an annoying poke in the side by my baby brother. I whip the crust and blot. I can hear my phone vibrating on the table top.

Lacey, where are you.

I text back, I'm coming Brady, just had a few errands to run.

I flop back on the bed and curl up in the blankets, its so warm and so comforting. The vibration sound is becoming more obnoxious.

Where are you?

"I'm coming, ahhh! God! You're obnoxious!" I scream. I throw the jar under the table. I trace over the line with a dampened finger and then lick the remains. The drip won't stop.

Brady, No.

Her phone begins to vibrate violently, echoing a loud thunder on the wooden table. She looks at the phone it reads, "Message from Brady." (CHANGING TENSES HERE)

He's a lush, yet I hate the fact that I'm still intrigued by him, there's some thing almost novelty about him in so many ways that I keep him at arms lengths. She lays back on the bed thinking, Brady is the biggest dick in a bottle except the bottle has a million cracks in it. To many break in case of emergency cases, but not a big enough emergency... yet.

She kneels over the table, flips her phone and reads the message:

Please come out and play, please? I miss you.

My eyes roll up and then back at the floor. Its always the same thing every time that bottle touches his lips. The phone starts to vibrate again. I don't have time for this.

Prove to me that you like me come to me!

Again the classic eye roll now followed by a few signs and a hand on the waist. I wish I knew a way to slap the bottle from his hand. Apparently there are new and emerging problems every day at the disadvantages of texting.