Hey there, thanks for the review, here's some more...

Enjoy,

So ;)

ps: scuby you're the best , as always.


Act 6: Catherine

"I'm going to change into something more comfortable, you know where everything is," I state before disappearing in my room. I quickly change my work clothes for yoga pants and a clear blue top. I clean my make up and tie my hair in a ponytail. When I come back in the kitchen Sara hands me a mug of fresh coffee.

"There you go," she says.

I hop up the counter and take the mug, letting its warmth filling my hands. "Do you want something in your coffee?" I ask her.

"No I'm good, thank you."

Silence settles between us.

"How do you feel?" she asks

"Better, much better thank you," I replies. I still feel a bit nauseous but compared to earlier it's nothing. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Do you do that often?"

"What?"

"Picking up young things at bars," I elaborate.

She sighs heavily obviously not happy with the topic of conversation. "I don't know, three maybe four times a month."

"Why?"

"Why what?" she frowns.

"Why do you feel the need to pick them up?"

"I go out of work after a long shift and I just feel like trying to connect with somebody, step outside of my life and discover someone else's. Sometimes I meet very interesting people," she simply says. "I know that your family life makes it more difficult for you to go out to do that, but don't tell me you forget about it."

"My connections happen after dinner usually…not just a few drinks…"

"And that makes them better, right?" she replies sharply.

"No, it doesn't make them better, Sar…it just...I don't know, at least I make more conversation than your place or mine," I shrug.

"And I don't according to you?"

"Do you? Do you get to know them? Do you know if they sleep around – which they obviously do…Do you know anything about them other than the fact that they're willing to either fuck you or be fucked by you?"

Once again my anger spikes up for a reason I can't explain, or rather don't want to explore.

"And who are you to judge them or me for that matter? Do you know them?" she snaps. "Oh I see, you were a stripper so you're talking by experience is that it?"

Now that was low.

"Who's judging, now?" I ask. I get down of the counter and walk to the sink, I empty the mug angrily in it. I sigh with frustration, hitting my palms on the edge of the sink. I turn around and lean against the sink and cross my arms on my chest.

"I guess I should go," she says, standing up.

"Yeah…I guess you should."

"I'll see you at work then."

"Not for the two next days, I took them off."

"Okay then," she shrugs.

Her passivity exasperates me.

"I'm sorry I kept you so long…I'm sure you're going to want to hit some other bar and troll for a quick fuck."

She chuckles bitterly. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response I really don't know what's got to you lately I hope those two days off will help you to get your rationality back," she shakes her head.

"I'm perfectly rational."

"Sure you are…first you're propositioning me for some bet, then you ruin my night for a reason I haven't found yet…you're acting off character," she states with anger.

"According to you, because I can assure you I'm acting perfectly within character. It was you who accused me of using my sexuality to get what I wanted once before."

"Oh and so you decided to prove that I was right? This is ridiculous," she snorts, walking to the door, but I follow her

"You're so fucking infuriating," I spit.

"Why is that? Because I don't play along your fucking games?"

"Because I'm right here in front of you...willing...and might I add...ready…but you think that some woman in a bar is a better choice..." I finally confess with rage. This has been burning my chest for far too long. I do realise – though a little too late, that I probably let on much more than I wanted. For some reason, she has this ability to make me weak willed and exposed, she's the only one who manages to sneak through all my sophisticated defense mechanisms.

"All because you slept with a friend years ago and it didn't work… why is that sex can be just sex with a stranger, but it can't be with a friend hmmm....why?" I add trying to erase my vulnerability from seconds ago.

"I can't believe we're still on this!" she says in exasperation.

"Well believe it Sara. I'm not going to buy the stimulus crap. Give me one good reason for your resistance."

She chuckles bitterly. "Maybe I just don't want to sleep with you," she replies sharply. She chuckles bitterly. "Yeah, maybe that's just it, I don't want to sleep with you."

I feel like an angry fist had just landed in my gut, stealing all oxygen from me. I open my mouth to speak but close it again, I repeat the same action several times but, I'm brain dead and can't seem to come back with something.

"What?" I blink. "Run that one by me again?"

She has this subtle smirk, her mean smirk, the one saying she's happy her barb hurt, and hurt deep.

"If you weren't so conceited, maybe you'd see that not everybody wants to get in your pants," she adds with despise.

An all too familiar pain, like a freezing hand is slowly gripping my heart and soul, and crushing everything. Sizzling hurt is invading me and suddenly I feel like I was being bled dry

"How could…why wouldn't…" the lump in my throat forbids me to speak any further. I sigh and instinctively hold my head up high, forcing myself to put my neutral mask on. I sigh and turn around, walking to my bedroom as fast as I can without actually running. "Let yourself out," I shout over my shoulder before slamming the door of my room shut.

I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not…

I'm sitting on my bed, my legs are moving nervously and I'm slightly rocking myself. I'm trying to gain the control of my breathing back. My eyes are burning and the tears are begging to be shed but I close my eyes and shake my head furiously.

The last person who hurt me that bad was Eddie – that was years ago and since that day I've swore myself I'd never let that happen again.

Damn you Sidle!

I stand and look at the full length mirror. I shed my clothes and stand there in my birthday suit. My gaze is frozen on my face first, my eyes are probably the only thing I got left to be proud about, even if when you look at it closely some of the sparkle that used to be shining in them is gone – I guess time doesn't spare anything. Hesitantly my eyes scrutinize my face spotting with an absolute clarity the traces left by the time.

I turn my head away to compose myself again. Once again face my reflection, holding my head up with a pride I don't feel. I take a deep breath and finally let my eyes look down at my body.

My god…

I suck in my stomach and pull my shoulders back in a vain attempt to make my breasts stand out. This is pathetic, I am pathetic. I take back my natural stand and force myself to face that image that I hate so much. This is me, the real me, a heap of flaws and scars of the time.

I snort with despise before turning away from the mirror and putting my pants back on. I can feel the hot trail left by the single tear going down my face. "Now I see why she doesn't want me," I mutter to myself picking my shirt from the floor.

That thought makes me angry at myself beyond belief. I let my shirt fall on the floor as I grab the first thing I see on my dresser and throw it against the mirror which shatters into pieces.

Fuck you Sidle.


Thank you for reading