CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

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“It's just paint.”

“It's just paint,” I mumbled to myself, scrubbing my hands obsessively under the running water. My breath broke, tears filling up my eyes at my hopeless attempts to get the crimson splatters on my hands, smearing my weeks-old nails.

It was like the harder I scrubbed, the more stubborn the stain grew.

I couldn't decipher whether to be angry at the fine arts student who accidentally threw paint on me or direct my focus on getting the Goddamned stain away from my hands.

“It's just paint. Get. Your. Act. Together. It's paint, fuck it!” I screamed, gripping the edge of the sink harshly. My frustration punched an ugly sob out of me, tears cascading my face in thick beads. I bit down on my lips which were coated in matte nude lipstick to submerge my sobs but the taste of the beauty product only spread through my mouth.

I turned off the faucet, my hands rocking with tremors. Loud sniffs emitted from me, filling up the bathroom. I looked down at my staine