Chapter 326: Mary’s New Routine

The next morning, Mary planted herself in front of the bathroom mirror and tried, without much success, to fix herself up a little.

She combed her hair as best she could, washed her face, straightened her glasses, and even dug through her clothes looking for something that wasn’t wrinkled or dirty.

But no matter how hard she tried, no matter what angle she tried it from, the person staring back at her from the mirror was still a complete mess.

Tired, neglected, unremarkable.

Mary let out a sigh of frustration, because the hour was approaching when, by her calculations, Mark would be coming back from work.

And for some reason she couldn’t quite explain to herself, she wanted to look presentable when she saw him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Her mother’s voice, right behind her, made her jump.

Mary spun around, her whole body tensing up as she found her mother leaning against the doorframe, watching her with narrowed eyes.

"N-nothing," she answered, hurrying away from the mirror. "I’m not doing anything. I was just... just washing my face."

But her mother didn’t buy it for a second.

She walked toward her slowly, and before Mary could react, grabbed her face with one hand, squeezing her cheeks hard, forcing her to look at her.

"You know full well how much it pisses me off when people lie to me," she said, her breath reeking of alcohol. "So spit it out."

"M-mom, ple-please, calm down."

She looked Mary up and down with disgust.

"Fixing your hair, prettying yourself up, staring at yourself in the mirror like an idiot. So it’s true... You finally turned into a little slut, huh? Out there spreading your legs for a few coins."

"It’s not what you think—"

"Shut up, bitch." She squeezed her face harder. "You really think anyone’s going to want anything to do with you?"

She let out a cruel laugh.

"Take a good look at yourself, idiot. No man in his right mind is ever going to love a worthless piece of shit like you."

"..."

"You’ve got nothing. No ass or even decent thighs... not to mention you’re flatter than a damn board. The only thing you’ve got to offer a man is your body, and you can’t even brag about that."

Every word her mother said stabbed into her like a knife.

Mary kept her eyes down and pressed her lips together, fighting to hold back the tears. She could take the pain, but she refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Finally, her mother shoved her aside.

"Bah. Do whatever the hell you want," she spat, turning toward the door. "Sell yourself, sleep around with whoever you want, I don’t care. I gave up on you a long time ago."

Mary said nothing.

"Just make sure you keep bringing liquor home. As long as you keep that up, you can do whatever you want with your life. I don’t give a shit what you turn it into."

And with that, she walked out of the room, leaving Mary alone in front of the mirror.

She stood frozen for a few seconds, her face burning from the marks her mother’s fingers had left on her skin.

But even that pain couldn’t compare to the emptiness her mother’s words had left behind.

Mary took a deep breath, wiped her eyes before the tears could fall, and decided she wasn’t going to let this ruin the one thing that had actually excited her in a long time.

Then she left the apartment to wait for Mark on the stairs.

Luckily she didn’t have to wait long.

Before too much time had passed, Mark’s figure appeared at the bottom of the stairs, climbing clumsily toward his floor.

Mary took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and planted herself in front of him before he could walk past.

"H-hi," she said, nervous, unable to hold his gaze. "I don’t know if you remember me, probably not, but... I’m the girl from yesterday. From the hallway."

She swallowed.

"I just wanted to thank you for last night, you know, for patching me up and everything. I really, really appreciate it... Not a lot of people would’ve—"

But then she stopped short, catching a strong smell of alcohol.

Mary looked up and quickly realized Mark barely seemed capable of standing, let alone listening to her.

He was drunk. Again.

And from the smell coming off him, probably even worse than the night before.

If the previous night he’d at least managed to hold a somewhat coherent conversation, now he could barely keep himself upright.

Mark’s eyes were unfocused and distant, his words slurring together into near gibberish.

"Uh... hey..." he mumbled, squinting as if trying to place her. "Do we... know each other...?"

Mary felt a small pang of disappointment, but decided not to dwell on it.

With a resigned sigh, she walked over and, just as she’d done the night before, slung an arm around his back to hold him up and help him climb the last stretch of stairs to his apartment.

Once inside, she guided him to the bed and laid him down carefully.

’Well... guess I won’t get to thank him today either,’ she thought, watching him settle in and start snoring. ’Maybe tomorrow, when he’s more clear-headed, we can actually talk.’

But the same thing happened again the next day.

And the day after that.

And the one after that.

An entire week went by that way.

Every night, Mary would go down to wait for him, and Mark would come back too drunk to even hold a conversation.

She’d help him up to his apartment, get him into bed, and tuck him in before heading back down to her own place, where the same hell she’d tried to escape for a few hours was still waiting for her.

Far from getting discouraged, Mary decided to use those nights to get to know him a little better.

Every time Mark came home drunk, he’d end up letting slip a few things between mumbles and disjointed sentences.

Day by day, Mary pieced those little details together until she’d formed a picture of who he really was.

His name was Mark. He worked as an office clerk at a company he hated, and from what she’d managed to gather, he was convinced it wouldn’t be long before they fired him.

One night, she even went a step further.

While Mark slept off the alcohol, Mary turned on his computer and looked up his Eternal Conquest Online account.

She found his username, and after glancing at Mark for a few seconds to make sure he was still asleep, added herself to his friends list.

That way, even if it was only within the game, she’d at least have a chance to run into him someday.

But above all, Mary eventually discovered the reason Mark got drunk every single night after work.

His girlfriend had left him.

It had shattered him. Ever since, every night, he turned to alcohol to drown out the loneliness and fill, even if just for a moment, the emptiness that woman had left behind in his life.

On the eighth day, Mary was getting ready to head out and wait for Mark, as had already become routine.

She was putting on her sneakers by the door when her mother’s voice stopped her from the couch.

"Hey."

Mary turned around, her stomach clenching on reflex.

Her mother watched her from across the room, bottle in hand, a malicious smile on her lips.

"That little boyfriend of yours," her mother said, taking a swig from the bottle without taking her eyes off her. "The one upstairs... what’s his name?"

Mary froze completely, her hand still on the doorknob.