It was late, and once again, sleep was eluding her. Seemed no matter how much she trained, or jogged or whatever she just couldn’t find the sweet release of slumber.

She turned on the water in the sink of her bathroom and brought the cold water up absently to her face. The cold awakens a few of her senses, and her haunted blue eyes find the eyes in the mirror. The pain they reflected was obvious to her, but she had made sure no one else would see it. She was Miss Go-With-The-Flow-Happy-Go-Lucky, the others just wouldn’t understand, only the girl in the mirror could know. Maybe that was why she loved life on the road, it gave no one a chance to get close, to see her demons and pain.

Somehow she found herself in front of her iPod docking station and setting it to random. Knowing some music might ease her restless mind. As the music played, she grabbed a beer from the fridge. Drifting back into the small living room, she sinks into the couch. But as soon as her upper back hit the cushions she bolted upright, the pain reminded her to apply some ointment.

Grabbing a hair tie from the coffee table, she quickly throws her hair up and removes her shirt. She then grabs her bag and rummages for the bottle she bought earlier. The great thing with being a contortionist? She could easily reach her own shoulder blades to rub the ointment in. Her fingers ran over the scarification under the new tattoos and her back arched from the dull throb of her touch. That was the worst thing with tattoos, the healing process. At least the scarification had healed, but her artist did warn her about the pain with adding the tattoo on top and around the sides. She would be adding an open wound to a trauma that was still in the process of healing. But it didn’t bother her, the pain let her know she was alive and could still feel.


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