Colours

Queue downwards spiral. Queue many unanswered phone-calls from Hayley. Queue sitting in my dark, windowless bathroom. Queue misery.

I was stuck. I was stuck, back in the Beautiful Kingdom of Loneliness. It was great, I felt right back at home. Nothing had changed; even the same miserable self-loathing feeling was the same. I sat in the bathtub with the lights turned off, knees curled up to my chest and eyes staring straight ahead. Back on earth, I would have had to get food every once and a while, and sleep at times. But here, none of that was needed. I didn't need to eat, drink, sleep, or even blink. That provided prime self-loathing conditions.

All that I saw was a shock of yellow-white hair, on a thin face with no assets. No nose, eyes, or mouth. Just a chiselled chin with thin cheekbones, leading up to a mess of hair at the top. It was obviously important - I couldn't get it out of my head. I would try to change my thoughts and think about other, less frustrating things, but the hair would always come back. White-blonde hair and misery and un-cry-able tears, bloodless veins and empty stomach and perfect appearance.

Self-loathing was great.
Misery was awesome.
And the best part - it was all I was going to do. Forever.

"Alexa, get up." A rich, old voice spoke in my ear. Soft hair tickled my forearm. I snatched at it, yanking it up to my eyes, trying to see what it was.

"Can I have that back, please?" A soft, wrinkled hand pried my fingers off of the hair. The lights came on. My eyes burned. Santa Claus was sitting beside me.

"I'm not supposed to do this, but you need to get up and check your mail. Go to work." He pulled me up and out of the bathroom to the front door. My legs were strong, not bothered by the long rest they had gotten.

And suddenly, Santa was gone. I blinked for the first time in quite awhile, and then went to retrieve the mail.

Setting the envelope on the counter, I started at who it was a dressed to;

"AlexaTurman"

Underneath what was my last name, which had been crossed out, somebody had written 'Burns' harshly, with what looked like a permanent marker. The last name sounded familiar - it made me smile. And then I frowned. The name brought happiness - but it also made me want to crawl back into the bathtub.

There was no address, just a name, and that was it. I picked up the envelope numbly, opening the flap with a long, thin finger. Pulling out the sheet slowly, I started to think. Did I really want to listen to Jolly Old Saint Nick? Did I really want to cut my miserable self-loathing period short?

Yes.

With haste, I unfolded the paper - there were three words written in bold, black print;

'DENTAL OFFICE SECRETARY'.

And suddenly, I found myself in an unfamiliar place.