Hey, this is my first fanfic that I've posted here, so I'm a bit nervous. Please review and tell me what you think.
In my story, I say that Michelle goes back to Seattle briefly after the divorce, so don't get confused.
I don't own Tony and Michelle, or later mentioned, Addison, Mark or the Emerald City Bar (for all you Grey's Anatomy fans I also put something in here for you). So please don't sue, that would be appreciated.
Someone
Michelle ran up the flight of stairs to her apartment. It was raining, like it constantly was in Seattle. She held her jacket over her head, willing her hair to stay dry and not become a frizzy nightmare. Her shoes, black stiletto heals, where having trouble ascending the steep incline, not able to move her self fast enough to prevent from getting soaked. The fat rain drops, cold and fast, hit her back in a steady rhythm. She reached the landing, her key already in hand and quickly slid it into the lock, opening the door and rushing in, slamming it behind her, keeping out the wet autumn day.
She threw her sopping suit jacket on the floor and placed her purse down on the small hall table. She kicked off her shoes and rung out her hair, her dark strands already curling. She shivered has she walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge but not finding anything. She wasn't really hungry after all.
Instead she put on the kettle to boil water, putting on some tea to warm her aching bones. She placed her numb fingers by the stove flame and let them painfully thaw, her nose running and her feet begging for her to sit down.
Once the water was boiling, she turned it down so it would slowly simmer, keeping warm until she needed it. She headed into her new bedroom, slowly pealing off her soaked clothes. She watched herself in the mirror, noticed how pail her skin looked in the scrutiny of the harsh lights in the bathroom. She saw the circles under her eyes, now uncovered. She looked down at her palm, where there was a faint scar from when she had broken a glass. A glass that had held wine as she read over the divorce papers that had his signature scribbled drunkenly below hers. She had thrown the glass at the wall, no tears. No, they would come later when she lay in the dark. She had thrown the glass at the wall, smashing against a picture before shattering to the floor. When she was cleaning up the red shards, that's when she had cut herself, cursing as blood spilled from her fresh cut, mingling with the drying wine on the white tile. She had sucked on it, running to the sink and holding it under the tap. It had stung, but it had been almost relieving as she saw her blood flow away down the drain, leaving her vanes like her past life was leaving her heart.
She looked back at herself, snapping back from her reverie. Her skin looked abandoned, unloved. She looked at her breasts and longed for hands to caress them, a curtain pair of hands. She wanted kisses to be planted along her frail neck, blazing their way down her. She wanted someone to hold her face and caress her lonely lips. She longed for someone to hold her, to want her.
There was only one person out there that she wanted, but he was long gone. She needed to find some else. Someone that didn't know her. Didn't know her past, didn't know what she did or had done. Someone that didn't care. And she needed to find him tonight.