I decided that the time has come for me to regain my identity, the one that I forced myself to leave behind.

I may be broken but that does not mean that I could not be fixed. Although cracks would be visible, they would no longer hurt as much.

I stood in front of a closet that barely held clothes fit for an eighteen-year-old girl. I rummaged through all the rags and finally came across one fit for a day out. I grabbed my clothes and took a bath.

I looked at myself in front of the mirror and there I saw a girl, so fragile, yet screaming to be let out.

The longer I looked the longer I felt self-pity. I never thought I could sink this low.

I made sure that I looked presentable enough, once I was satisfied I ran out the door.

The sun shone bright up in the sky, welcoming me back after years of unending obscurity. I forgot how the rays of light felt on ones skin, the smell of fresh air and newly baked bread.

As I kept walking every little piece of memories I thought I have forgotten began to flash back through my mind. The happiness one would feel and the warmth and care one could give.

I know nothing of that. Not anymore.

Memories are but memories, stored only in your mind as a foolish reminder of what has been...

It was all too much and I had to escape. I was foolish to think that I was ready for such a dramatic change.

I came across a sort of pub, drinking has been a bit of a hobby of mine after the past events.

I walked in and embraced the hint of darkness; I was back where I started.

I asked for a beer, the young man could not help but stare at someone so young and so innocent looking in a pub asking for alcoholic drinks.

I ignored his stare and decided to observe.

The pub was old and bit rustic, wooden planks and wooden beams were everywhere. There were only a few people and they were ones that are both completely mental and lost the lives they had or people with drinking problems.

At the corner of my eye I noticed a blonde sitting a few stools away from me. She seemed a bit distracted and looked a few years over thirty. She looks so tired and worn out that it scared me. Would I look like that one day if I didn't get my acts together?

I shuddered at the thought of sitting alone in a pub, looking like there's no more life to live.

I will admit that the past years I have been living in such arrangement but I don't want to be that pathetic girl anymore.

I got my drink and chugged it down my throat.

I felt so refreshed and calm. Maybe a few drinks was what I needed.

I can feel the looks the blonde was giving me, it was burning.

After minutes of deliberation she finally sat next to me.

"You look a bit young to have a drinking problem."

Her voice was so melodious and sweet that I was shocked. I never expected a voice like that to come from someone who looked so lost.

I chuckled. It felt so out of place and so wrong to hear that sound coming from me. The sound was so forced and bitter.

"Age is just a number and how are you so sure that I have a drinking problem?"

A long lost trait sent shocks through my body, curiosity came over me.

"Well it isn't exactly everyday you see a young well dressed, high-class lady in a pub chugging down a beer."

"Well that's a bit of an observation. Clothes are usually used to judge another person. How judgmental, ever heard of the phrase "Don't judge a book by its cover"?"

I couldn't help it, I had to snap a bit. I absolutely abhor people who think they know people when they obviously do not have a clue.

It was now her turn to laugh, same as me, hints of sadness yet still melodious.

"Right, so what's your name then? I assume that we'll be staying here a long while. Don't I need something to call you?"

"Call me, Elle."

The blonde grinned.

"Why, hello Elle!"

She kept grinning. She took her mug and drank her beer looking a bit smug.

"What about you? Don't I have to call you something as well?"

She looked at me. Her eyes suddenly shone with brilliance. I was so confused and yet so intrigued. Does this woman know me?

"Call me… Tink"