He carries the pipe wrapped in black socks to the bathroom. I hear the click of the lock. He thinks I don’t know, but I found the clear little crystals in his underwear drawer. But he’s just fine.
She avoided my gaze as she walked into the bathroom. I heard the click of the lock. She thought I didn’t know, but I could still make out the sounds over the repeated flushing. Goodbye lunch. But she’s just fine.
I hold the blade in my hand as I walk into the bathroom. I lock the door. Click. Nobody knows as the blade slides across my skin, leaving red track lines. But I’m just fine.
At least we have the decency to lock the door. We are all just fine.