She still had her ticket, but she'd never take the train. It had already gone by.
Susan slammed the door behind her, numb to the loud banging it produced in the ratty hallway of the apartment building she inhabited. It wasn't a bad place to live, it just couldn't hold a candle to that cozy, warm feeling that one was encompassed in when one entered a home. A home had character, it was filled high with memories of good times and not-so-pleasant happenings. This was just a place to stay, and you weren't ever really meant to stay very long.
She kicked her heels off. They clattered noisily, as they slid along the dingy, wooden floor. She swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. Susan looked at the vibrant cherry lipstick smudged forlornly on her hand. Her other hand rubbed away at her eyes. She could feel the make-up that was clinging to her eyes. Rubbing harder, she grew increasingly tired as she realized what a fruitless thing it was to try to wipe it off.
She walked to the bathroom. The chill rush of cold water that slithered down her wrists and through her fingers woke her up from her miserable haze.
"Ahh," she shivered, as she splashed water on her face. Susan's gaze trailed upward. Her reflection stared at her. Was this really Susan Pevensie? She had to wonder.
She was not an unattractive woman. Dark hair framed her fair complexioned face, amplifying it's dark tone. Her eyes were full and of a pleasant shade of brown, though they shimmered with tears. She looked rather ordinary, she supposed. It was probably the watery black lines running down her cheeks and hugging her jawline, coupled with the violent red that was smeared across her mouth, that made her quite the odd sight. But, then again, she didn't always look like that.
She sighed, resolving to just never wear make-up again, thus avoiding this problem altogether.
She grabbed a small hand towel, wet it, and then dabbed at her face with it. Susan remembered when she'd thought that being an adult would be glamorous and amazing.
She'd never been so wrong in her life.
Sometimes, she wished that she'd gone on the train with Lucy, Edmund, and Peter. Why hadn't she? Oh, yes, she was too "grown up" for a day of sea-side fun. Plus, she'd had a date that night and wanted to get all dolled up. If they were pointing down at her from up in Heaven, and laughing their heads off, as well, she knew that, without a doubt, it was what she deserved.
Susan turned the water off with a flick of her hand, then rang out her hand towel. She placed it softly down on the rack. With that, she left, shutting the light down and closing the door.
She was back in her Dining-Living-Kitchen-Bedroom. She headed to her wardrobe. It wasn't a big one, it was reasonably sized, holding the few items of clothing she owned. She pulled the door open, stepping in to reach her nightgown, even though she could reach it from the outside. Susan looked back, checking that the door remained open. How foolish would it be to shut oneself in a wardrobe?
Susan's knuckles tapped the back, just enough to emit a quiet sound. She rapt against the back panel a few times, lowering her ear so it was nearly pressed against the wood. She was almost certain that the sound was hollow. But, since the mind can play tricks on one, she pulled her nightgown off the hanger and stepped out of the wardrobe.