So this is what life had for her. The cold ache of loneliness and the dull pain deep inside her stomach as she looks at herself in the mirror as she tries to work out who she is and what she is doing here. Her thoughts don't fall into neat categories any more. Instead they tumble over and over and over inside her head without a break

Without order

They turn and they twist at her heart like a knife

Whatever happened to her heart that it would rather be anywhere but inside her body. A beautiful situation for beautiful thoughts for ugly people. She knows pain. She knows loss.

And at the realisation of her heart breaking into splinters she turns, just reaching the toilet as she vomits up the little she has eaten today. Vodka and stomach acid burn at her throat, and she feels a hand on her shoulder. She turns, but there is no one there.

That night she sleeps on the bathroom floor, enjoying every ache and every shiver that passes through her body. At least she doesn't feel her broken heart.