I was curled up by the side of the bed, buried in a corner like some broken thing someone had tossed aside. My arms were wrapped tightly around my knees, my breath shallow and shaky. Tears had dried into sticky tracks on my cheeks, but the sobs kept coming in waves that racked through my chest. My nose was clogged, and phlegm dripped without grace onto the cold tiled floor. I didn’t care if it made a mess of my body. Antonio had already made the greatest mess of me. My eyes stung like some soap particles had found their way to it. They were as red as crimson and raw from too much crying out of too much pain that I felt.I couldn't call anyone, not even Marietta. Oh, goodness, Marietta was the only one I used to run to, back when I still danced and stripped at the club for money, when my life was nothing more than neon lights, loud music, and the slap of heels against the stage. She had been my manager then. She was tough, sharp-tongued, but strangely tender beneath all that steel
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