One

Its dark here, I wonder where I am. I can't see, can't feel... have I gone blind? I can't even feel scared. Only loud echoing thoughts.
Am I in hell?

God, I'd made such a mess of my life. Another bed, another man. I could hear him slowly breathing in and out. The moonlight was shining through the thin curtains. I could hear the traffic and the occasional drunk talking loudly as he walked down the street.

I got out of bed and felt a cool breeze blow through the window. The curtains rippled as I got dressed. The vibrant red dress that I had fallen in love with in the store, now looked boring and dirty. I wiped last nights makeup off my face and slipped on the gold heels that I had been wearing.

I was about to close the door, when I looked back. Was this how I was going to live the rest of my life? Sleeping with a guy and then leaving before he woke up. He rolled over to where I had been sleeping and groaned. I took this as my cue to leave. I didn't feel bad about leaving them anymore. In the beginning I would stay but they would make me feel so guilty when I would never call them back.

I felt so alone as my heels clicked and echoed in the halls. I stepped out onto the street, almost expecting the sun to blind me. But it was dark. It was always dark.

The same familiar click of the lock, the same creak of the door opening. I fumbled for the light switch and the lights flickered as they came on. I shivered as I walked in. My apartment was so cold. Not just in temperature, only bare necessities graced this pitiful thing I called home. A couch, dirty and full of crumbs, a cardboard box for a coffee table; this was my dining room. Walking into the kitchen, I sighed at the same congested mess. It was small, and dirty; dishes overflowed the sink. I walked to my bedroom and stripped off my clothes again, snuggling into the blanket to keep warm. I glanced at the clock before I dozed off, 3am.

She hated getting dressed in the morning, the way that Mary would always make the corset as tight as her mother would want.

"You need to be the skinniest if you want to be the most desired," her mother would always say. Problem was she didn't really want to be the most desired. "You shouldn't eat so much Rosaline."

"I'm sorry mother," she said as the corset squeezed tears out of her eyes. Her mother didn't know how painful it was. She felt like everything inside of her was squished so much that it would burst. Her mother had never needed to wear a corset as tight as Rosaline, but she had always worn it as tight as she could.

Her clothes were so heavy that she thought that she might be in shackles. She didn't know how much longer she could stand this life (if you could call it living). She watched as her mother took her hair and put it on top of her head, piece by piece. Each strand of hair felt like it was slowly being pulled out of her scalp. When she was finished she moved on to the makeup, which was the least painful part. She put on the white powder and accented her cheekbones with a light blush. Her mother said she looked as pale as the snow, as beautiful as clouds in the sky.

She got up and felt the elaborate dress weighing on her skin just as her mother's words weighed on her mind. Shaking the thought away she placed a hat on top of her perfect hair.

"You look ready Rosaline," her mother said looking at her daughter. "Just one more thing... my mother's handkerchief, for good luck."

"Thank-you," she said curtsying. Then she walked out the door and got in the carriage that would take her to where the potential suitors were anxious to win her heart.

"Rosaline?" I asked the sunlight coming through my curtains. I stretched my arms up over my head and rolled out of bed.

I filled my coffee maker and turned it on; while I was waiting for it to finish I glanced at the clock. It was only eight in the morning. Four hours sleep was, for me, desired. I couldn't get more sleep if I tried.

The showerhead spluttered cold water and I flinched. I hated my apartment, it was so run-down but it was all I could afford. My boss didn't pay me enough and sometimes he would even cross the professional relationship line. I held my hands to my face and lowered my head. I felt like crying, my life was bad enough I didn't need him messing around with me too. I didn't feel the gentle cleansing of my skin or the trail of shampoo that slowly slid down my face. All that I could feel was the pounding on my skin, it echoed through my body like an obnoxious drummer.

The silk of my skirt danced like a graceful ballerina as I walked. When it did touch my skin it felt like a feathering dream. My blouse was silk too. Both of my silk garments were presents from my boss; and you couldn't deny that they were beautiful because they really were.

I put on my gray heels and stepped out into the hall. The lock clicked and I placed my keys into my purse. The same echoing click that always made me feel so alone. I opened the front door of the building and the sunlight assaulted me.

The office had always had a hospital smell to it. Or maybe too much cleaner had been used by the overnight crew, it really didn't matter. I got in the elevator that would take me to the eighth floor out of seventeen.

The carpet was gray, the walls were gray, and the cubicles were gray. Even the bathrooms were gray. The law firm I worked for was so bland; everything was gray except the people and the paper.

One of the lawyers that worked for my boss greeted me, "Good morning Miranda."

"You look lovely today Miranda." I knew that I didn't. I hadn't even bothered to put on any makeup this morning. My hair was still damp and in a bun sitting on my head. I could see the ends of my bangs hanging just over my eyes. "That red hair suits you very well, but you may want to think about changing that black on black look."

I moved closer and whispered, "With all due respect sir, don't waste your breath. What do you want?"

"No woman has ever seen through me as well as you Miranda," he chuckled.

"What can I say...? I have a keen eye for extortion," I said with a smile. "Now if you don't mind sir, I have a lot of calls to make and things to type up."

"Of course," he said going back to his office. "Of course," he said to himself as he closed the door.

I shook my head at the strangeness of my boss and got to work. It seemed that the typing was endless, there was a mountain of things to do and I was exhausted. I got up to go get another cup of coffee from the lounge and paused for a moment. I could feel eyes on me and I looked around suspiciously. Sure enough I saw my boss looking casually out the window. Probably wondering where I was going. I mentally shook myself and started walking.

The lounge was uninteresting. There were some tables on the far side of the wall and on the wall closest to the door there was a counter with anything you could need. I poured some of the coffee into a bland white mug and watched the steam rise from the hot liquid.

I sat back down at my desk and resumed typing.

A/N: I've had this idea kicking around for a while and I thought.. maybe I should put this story up to see how other people like it.

Please review and tell me your thoughts!

Shimizu.