She hated the way his hands violated her. The way he grunted and pushed and grabbed. The way he rolled off and slipped from the covers with little more than a sigh. The way he dressed, article by article, slowly and purposefully.
She hated when he leaned back down, the bed shifting with his weight. The way tears burned at her eyes as she looked away and told him to go. The way he didn't argue, just shrugged. The way the door clicked shut after his departure.
She hated herself. How an imperfect body and swollen eyes looked back at her from the mirror when she was strong enough to stand. How she still felt him as she scrubbed at her flesh later in the shower. How she couldn't stop the sobs that finally broke her, forcing her to her knees in the bathroom floor.
She hated the person that had done this to her.
She hated Anna.
...No. No, that was much too far.
She didn't hate Anna. She could never hate her, no matter what the blonde was going through. This was all her fault, not Anna's. Never Anna's.
It took nearly an hour before she could move from the floor, stand and dress and strip her bed. It didn't remove the filth that tormented her mind, but it lessened the nausea at having to look at those sheets. She wouldn't use those again. Those would be thrown away.
She was thankful her mother worked so often now, that Olaf was too worried about finances to notice her absence. It made it easier to lock the doors and draw the curtains. To forget there was a reality outside her room.
She was going to be fired. She hadn't gone to work in three straight days, and although that wasn't that big a deal she also hadn't said a word about why. Not a text, not a call, not a confrontation. She just didn't care.
The worst part of all was that she couldn't understand why. Anna hadn't even been anything more than a friend to her. Anna had been confusing and naïve and... so wonderful. It didn't make any sense and that pissed Elsa off more than anything else.
She didn't go as far as completely dropping off the map. She still texted Olaf and her relationship with her mother was being mended piece by piece. There was so much strain and uncertainty between the two that it made things complicated, but they were trying.
Elsa shook her head as she dropped the sheets into the garbage can just outside the back door. She trudged back inside slowly, feet like lead, falling unceremoniously onto the couch's soft cushions.
All she wanted to do was sleep more. That was all she ever wanted to do now.
The sound of a whirling fan was what she awoke to. For a long moment, it baffled her in her half-awake, half-asleep state. She didn't remember turning on her ceiling fan, but then again, how would she know? She wasn't really aware of a lot of the things she did lately.
Her jaw tightened as she sat up, pushing back the tussled bangs that brushed at her forehead. Her computer was on, screen the only source of light in the room. Even the moon hid back behind wisps of silver, afraid to show its face.
She stretched and stood and shuffled over, blinking away the drowsiness that clung to her eyelashes. The time read 3:37, much too early.
A sigh escaped parted, chapped lips as she thread her fingers through the unwashed strands of her loose hair. Her feet took her out the room and toward the stairs, where each step down was obnoxiously pronounced. It was a wonder she didn't somehow wake the entirety of the neighborhood.
The kitchen, a glass of tap water straight from the sink, a creaky chair that threatened to buckle as she leaned back in it. Somewhere in the distance came muffled barking, a car driving by. Its headlights threw shadows that danced and played upon the walls.
She sipped at her water, scrunching her nose that the chemicals, and let her head lull back, eyes silently scanning the room. She could see more now that her eyesight was adjusting.
And it was a good thing, too.
Her mother kept a calendar right by the kitchen entrance; it had been that way as long as Elsa had been alive. There were normally letters or bills placed up around it, a homemade billboard of sorts.
Elsa hadn't seen anything around that calendar in years. If she was being completely honest, she couldn't even remember the last time it had been on the right month. But now there was something, a worn piece of notebook paper with creased edges and fading lines.
The writing on it was new, however, and in the most beautifully sloppy cursive the blonde had ever seen. She knew that handwriting, and when she stood to confirm it, reading the first few words, her heart nearly sank.
That note her mother had said Elsa had given her: it hadn't been from Elsa at all. Of course, Elsa had known that from the get go. But now, now it was clear. Or, more confusing really.
The note was from Anna.
A/N: Very quick explanation for this chap because I know someone will say something: Yes, Elsa is gay. She's with a man because A) She hasn't come out fully, and B) Her town is small. It's easier to find a man for a one night stand than a gay woman.
Also, sorry if updates seem a little hectic on and off. Gonna be traveling for a bit so just relax, I'll work on it. Big thanks to everyone reading and commenting, means a lot. Thanks! -Sara