Make-up and clothes.
The only two things in life that can take away all my problems.
Foundation, concealer, mascara and a fresh coat of lipstick along with a long sleeved turtle-neck jumper, jeans and boots.
It's boring, nothing glamorous, but it does the job.
I look at myself in the mirror and see an old, ragged woman.
I used to be so full of life, so happy.
My eyes drift down to the fresh red bruise on my left cheekbone.
That's fine, I can pass that off as blusher.
But before I do that, I better go and make Hardy another sandwich.
I won't put butter in this one.
EUGH, what on Earth is that noise?
It sounds like a herd of elephants hurtling through the front door.
Is that a woman's voice?
The sound of a woman giggling followed by a muffled "Shh" coming from Hardy tells me he's just brought another woman home.
It doesn't matter. He's with me and like he says, no one else would have me anyway.
