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I can still hear her screaming at him. For him to leave me alone, to go away and to never return. I remember my body willingly leading me to face him at this door, despite my head pleading me to stay away. That he didn't deserve to speak to me or see me again. But I couldn't help it. My body was entranced, drawn to him like a magnet and unconsciously I found myself drifting toward him as if my mind had no control over my body. As I halted in the entryway I vaguely remember Rosie saying something, either to me or to him; before unwillingly walking away and leaving me alone, face to face with this man who had literally broken my heart. The rest was like an out of body experience. I stood there in reality, but I didn't have any emotions at all. There was no sound, no light, nothing. I was only capable of staring blankly at him, unable to construct any rational thought into a sentence. His expression was unreadable. His tan, olive skin and sizeable dark brown eyes, aesthetically look the way I remember. His shaggy brunette hair falling effortlessly over the frame of his face and resting just below his ears. The stubble on his face still kept that way, the way I used to like it. The way I
still
like it. After the weeks of lows I had suffered through I was utterly exhausted, but he wasn't giving so much away. I could feel the tears well in my eyes as I searched pathetically into his soul trying to get some kind of worthy response. Anything. As we stood there in what felt like our own time-zone, in complete silence, after some time his mouth slowly parted and mouthed the words 'I'm sorry.'

That's the last time I saw him.

"The taxi’s waiting Penny."

I shake my head trying to disperse the memories and again, to stop the flood of tears that linger just below the surface. I peek at Rosie. Her eager face is the happiest I've seen her look at me in a while. I flinch at the prospect of disappointing her again. Not after she so willingly took me into her home and has basically looked after me these past few months. From the first day of kindergarten when I thought the cold pasta she brought in for lunch was weird and she thought my vegemite sandwich was gross, we have been inseparable ever since. Despite being incredibly lucky to have her in my life, I didn’t deserve it. I haven't been a very good friend to her especially since I can only imagine what she has been going through. She has had problems to deal with too and I have been so selfish drowning in my own that I hadn’t even attempted to care. I force another smile across my face, and reach for the handle.  As soon as I open it I am struck by how dark it is outside.

What time is it?

I had no idea about what time it was or how much time had passed. I can't even remember the last time I had come outside these doors. Sealing my eyelids, I inhale deeply allowing the nippy spring air entirely inside my lungs and I instantly feel more blood charge to the surface. I notice the bright yellow taxi parked in the kerb and automatically make my way un-steadily toward it ignoring the stabbing pain in my toes with each and every step.

Keep going Pen.

You can do this.

I shuffle into the seat against the far window and immediately wind it down, still taking long painful breaths. I hear the door close behind me.

"To The Loft, on the corner of Stanley and O'Rierdon please."

I ogle at my friend in a daze as she fastens her seatbelt around her hips and tentatively turns to face me. I wait for her to speak, but nothing comes out of her mouth. I decide to cut the stale air to avoid my incoherent thoughts invading our uncomfortable ride.

"The Loft?"

"Yeah. I thought we could check it out. It's been raved about online and they always have well known bands play there. It’s a mega celebrity hang out too, which is always exciting…" she trails as she adjusts her gold bracelet on her left arm nervously before continuing. "It should be fun. My brother is coming so he will be able to get us a good table."

"Is anyone else coming too?" I blurt out quite bluntly, suddenly aware that it will be more than Rosie in my presence this evening.

"Some friends of mine from work might meet us in there. But I didn't think it would be a late night so I'm not sure they will bother."

As soon as the words come out of her mouth she bites her lip, the obvious regret washing over her face.

What does she mean they won’t bother?

Why is she taking me out if I am too much of an inconvenience?

Please, I just want to go home.

I begin to feel a buzzing on the vinyl seat beside me and a faint melody to a song, ‘Apologise,’ by One Republic. It’s the ringtone to a phone, the too familiar sound of Rosie’s.

Her phone always rings.

She has so many friends it’s almost ridiculous. Between her brothers finance friends and her work colleagues, how she finds the time to juggle them all is beyond me.

Although, she doesn’t spend her days in her room unlike someone else.

Rosie chattering away on her phone and my jealous thoughts are what remain of our journey to The Loft, which is only about twenty minutes away from her Annandale terrace. Before I even realise, we are pulled up outside the venue on a busy street in Sydney and she slips out onto the kerb. I slide my bum unwillingly along the backseat and begrudgingly follow her lead.

"Don't worry, tonight's on me," she smiles excitedly.

I roll my eyes.

I will need to get drunk to get through this.

She links her arms around mine, the way we used to, and we stride together almost in unison toward the front of the line. The queue outside isn’t down the street or anything, but I instantly feel guilty for pushing to the front. It’s obvious her brother has pulled some strings for her again, as we aren’t special enough to receive front of the door treatment. Rosie is just a school teacher, and I am... well I am....

What am I?

Since the life changing event I haven’t been able to work. I left my job in accounting, a sporting organisation that
he
had also worked for. He was a born athlete. Football was everything to him, and as his elite career started to wind down it was only natural that he would stay in sport. Although he still enjoyed his footy on the weekends, PR was where he ended up; and since we wanted to spend every waking moment together, as soon as an accounting role was available I took it.  My work was so entwined in
his
life, that I just needed an escape. Rosie was instrumental on getting me to rid my life of everything that had to do with him. She felt that to move on completely, it was the only way so I could avoid any risk of running into him. The very thought of what I have lost in myself since it all broke down leaves a bitter and sickening taste in my mouth.

"Rosalie Pravadi," she oozes with such stance as the burly bouncer scans his eyes over his door-list, before giving her a quick nod. She claps her hands like an excited child and leads me inside the elaborate tinted glass doors. Her brother is a big player in the finance world here in Sydney. He has friends in high places which explains how she gets in to all the right places and usually at the right times. The amount of occasions she has gone to some flashy party where you would normally have to be at least
someone
to even get through the door, always astounded me.

As we make our way through the main, dim-lighted corridor we are greeted by an expansive open room that boasts two exposed floors. It's very moody. Different shades of chocolate and charcoal timbers, with several exposed upright beams stretching from floor to ceiling make up the space. The bar tops and low circular tables are steel with black and red leather lounge style couches.  My former self loves this style of venue, you know, the modern industrial types you see in renovating magazines everywhere. You can see the upstairs area from the main foyer where patrons are slouched over the wire railing, ogling the new additions below. It makes you feel like you are in a meat market being inspected as a rare and tender delicacy. I shudder at the mere thought of anyone thinking of me as any kind of delectable food group at the moment.

"Let's do drinks," she orders as we wander arm linked toward the main bar ahead.

Finally!

We are forced to stop about three persons back from the bar and my sudden drinking excitement has to be put on hold as we wait. I screw my face up impatiently.

"Do you know where the bathroom is?" I turn my head from side to side searching for a quick escape through the masses of people, in this instance, in the forms of a restroom.

She points to the right seemingly ignoring my discomfort. I glance back at her and acknowledge the directions, whilst making a start toward the rest room. As I graze through the guests, my eyes kept firmly on the worn timber floorboards; I apologise for each and every bump along the way until I eventually find the narrow door. When I open it and step inside, I am surprised by how quiet it is in here. It oozes tranquillity and for one second I forget that I am in one of the hottest night spots in town. I gaze at the woman staring back at me.  I can see the same ghostly figure of a woman who is masked by the small attempts of looking normal for the evening. I focus on my eyes in the reflection, but only for a second, as any longer and I would find myself back in my self-misery of tears yet again. I'm starting to feel beyond pathetic. I definitely don't want to be this girl. I just don’t even know how to even act anymore.

Will I ever?

I wash my hands carelessly in the water, dry them and take an exaggerated breath before heading back out into the crowd. To my surprise, Rosie is waiting for me.

"Hey here's your drink, I wasn't sure what you wanted so I ordered your fave. You were in there forever. Is there heaps of people in there?" she asks me speedily, whilst passing me my drink.

Vodka and Raspberry Grenadine, definitely my old time favourite. The best part is that they go down as easy as soft drink, which is a nice relief since I was never a big drinker. I know if I keep with these it won't take me long before I’m relishing the numbing effects to help get me through the evening.

I shrug.

Was there anyone else in the restroom?

“Was I really in there that long?" I ask curiously to myself.

It felt like two seconds.

Shutting my eyes, I take a significant long swig of my drink and swallow the entire glass in one go.

Ah.

Next one?

I find a simple timber shelf behind me, placing my empty glass on it and turn to face Rosie, who hasn't even started her drink yet. She doesn’t look very impressed.

"Maybe I should have ordered you two," she bites. "Can you hold this? I'm going to the ladies." She passes me her drink and makes a start for the door behind me. "You sure you will be alright?" she asks tentatively over her shoulder.

I roll my eyes automatically.

"Yes, I will be fine!" I press a little too coldly.

As she heads into the restroom I shake off my guilt and head to the bar, unknowingly knocking back her drink too.

Yuk scotch!

For some reason she loves her scotch on the rocks, but I cannot stand it. As soon as I down the drink, I convulse with the sheer vulgar taste it leaves on my tongue. As I look up, I find myself at least three rows back from the bar.

I’m right back where I started.

I scan over the people around me not really making eye contact so as not to start up unwanted conversation. I feel my fingers fidgeting anxiously against my hollow stomach, as I awkwardly wait at the bar...
alone
. Nervously and eagerly waiting for my friend to come and take her place back at my side - my security blanket. As my head tosses from side to side my vision is blocked by a man who steps directly in my view.

"Excuse me miss, can I buy you a drink?"

A tall, sturdy man in a grey business suit with a black buzz cut smiles at me seedily.

"No thank you," I mumble through clenched teeth, as I turn away.

Come on Rose.

Where are you?

"Please, just one drink?" he urges signalling his pointer finger in the air. At that moment, I'm drawn to his pale grey suit.

Why is wearing a business suit so late in the evening?

Has he come from work?

What day is this....?

Useless thoughts fill my head as I'm not really in the mental state to deal with new conversation, especially since I've just downed two drinks in the space of two minutes without so much as food for days. I shake my head at the stranger signalling my answer, still forcing a grin through my tense jaw. I turn to look over my shoulder again, for Rosie with further anxiety.

"Look there are still two people in front of us,” the man continues as he reaches for my arm. “Please I insist to let me buy you a drink. Just one drink for the pretty lady."

Ugh!

I shrug my arm from out of his grasp and feel the chunks start to rise from my throat. I cannot handle talking to this guy, to any one right now. This is all too much, too fast, too soon. The fear starts to work its way up through the very core of my soul and has an instant effect on my body. My fingers are more nervously fidgeting, my head tossing frantically from side to side and my breathing is sharper. It’s not that I even know this guy, but I just can't do it. Not now.

Will I ever?

"Th-thank you, I really appreciate the offer but I have to politely decline."

I don't even recognise the sound coming out of my mouth.

It is me?

Am I being stupid?

It's just one drink!

What's my problem?

What is wrong with me?

Rosie where are you?

"There you are!”

An unknown cool voice with an accent echoes from behind me and immediately cuts off my panicked thoughts. I turn away from the mystery guy in a suit to... yet another mystery guy, but not in a suit. He is wearing tight indigo wash jeans, a loose grey V-neck tee and a navy blue denim jacket with one button done up in the middle of his chest.  This guy is dangerous. You know that every girl would want to get into bed with a guy like this. He just oozes sex appeal like he bathes in it every day. The immediate air around him is filled with a sense of risk, intensity and I immediately find it hard to breathe. Aesthetically, he is lean and toned, only a little taller than me in height and his skin is flawless, fair and looks as though it would be as soft as silk and as cold as ice to touch. His perfectly messy hair somehow stands full yet tall, and is the deepest shade of brown you would have ever seen; but within that split second I'm drawn to his eyes. His exquisite blue eyes that penetrate mine so powerfully, they literally strike right through me. The intensity beneath them make me look away in fear, for I am far too fragile to handle such an emotion.