Numb.

It was fairly late, but luckily my parents weren't home yet. I let the wind shut the front door as I wandered down the hallway in a haze. I went straight to the bathroom, mindlessly pulling the door behind me, my hand unconsciously twisting the lock like I had done so many times while home alone. I took a deep breath and looked in the mirror. My skin was a bit paler than usual, but other than that I looked the same as I always did. I watched as a look of pure disgust grew across my relfection's face. I should look different. I didn't understand. After all that just happened, why don't I look different? After all, I certainly felt different, but for some reason beyond my comprehension, my face didn't show it. At all.
This scared me. Had all that really happened? Was I imagining it? I smiled slightly as I contemplated the idea that it had all just been a bad dream. I immediately wished that I hadn't. My face in the mirror looked contorted, twisted into an unknown expression. My mouth curved up at the corners in a sad attempt at a smile, but my eyes showed something much different. My eyes were dark, cold, empty; evidence that I wasn't dreaming. It had all been real.
I shuddered, trying to tear my eyes away from the mirror. As a distraction, I quickly stripped my clothes, throwing them haphazardly into a pile on the floor, and turned on the shower faucet. I cranked it to the highest temperature, letting the steam fog the mirror, rapidly obscuring the image that had shown itself there just seconds before. Taking one last look at my blurred reflection, I stepped over the edge of the tub, moving myself to the spot directly beneath the steady stream of water.
The water was soothing at first, and I hoped that the warm pressure coming down on my shoulders would somehow relieve the pressure inside of me. I didn't. In fact, it had just the opposite effect. I moved half an inch forward and the water cascaded over my face. I closed my eyes, hoping to forget, but instead playing over ever seeminly insignificant detail of the day. The coolness of his face as he had spoken; the way his intensely green eyes had turned that sullen shade of gray as they stared past me, never quite meeting mine; even the way his hand had reached out, as if on its own accord, to lightly brush my cheek before he turned to walk away. I shuddered again.
This can't be happening, I thought, terrified. I turned my back to the stream of heat and crouched down to the floor of the tub, hugging my knees to my chest. The water beat down on my bare back as I stayed in my little ball, grasping my rib cage with both arms in order to hold myself together. I was hurt, devastated, but I refused to cry. No. Crying would make it all too real, and I couldn't yet accept that this was final. No, there was still hope. This was just a bad dream. I would have to wake up eventually, right?
I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it must have been hours. The water beating against me was no longer warm, but it had turned ice cold. I stood, steadying myself carefully against the wall of the shower, and turned off the freezing water. My hand still on the faucet handle, I reached for the shower curtain, trying to hold back a shiver that had nothing to do with cold water. I carefully pulled open the translucent curtain and stepped onto the icy bathroom floor. It didn't bother me though. I was already numb, from the inside out.