TREATING THE WOUNDS

BRIA

There were one hundred and fifty-five tiles. Ninety of them were white, and the remaining were light blue coloured with leaf design on twenty of them. The tap was leaking forty-seven drops per minute. This was the only thing left for me to do after five songs of One Direction, three songs of Tyler Swift and four songs of Alan Walker playing in my head.

It's been more than two hours that I had locked myself in the bathroom after the ugly fight with the devil. And the worst part was even after trying to distract my mind it always came back to the fact that I. fucking. slapped. him.

What the hell was I thinking?!

He must be waiting there with a gun full of bullets to take aim for my heart. Bria, that was the stupidest thing you have ever done.