Nirvana gets her head out of the toilet, puts both arms on the toilet seat and tries to stand up. Her feet still shaking she stumbles on empty bottles and beer cans and falls back on her knees. A rattling sound follows as she screams in despair. She hates herself so much right now, what was she thinking? But she must persevere. So she hugs the bathroom wall, grabs a towel rack and pushes upwards. Oh what a headache, her feet feel like toothpicks, trembling under the huge weight of her seemingly oversized head. But at least she’s standing. So she turns around and faces the mirror: oh, the horror! Disgusted, she carefully removes the glued toilet paper off her cheeks, tries do scrub dried puke off her chin and runs her fingers under her nose to remove those white powder marks. But what’s the use, her hair looks like a muddy rainforest after a flood, her mascara has run all over her face and one of her cheeks is turning blue. No amount of scrubbing can fix this.
Never again she says, shaking her head in front of the mirror. Never again. She then turns on the hot water and lets it fill the bathtub. Still dizzy, her head spinning, she opens the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, grabs a couple of pills and gobbles them down. She also picks up some oils, creams and some tissues and places them at the edge of the sink. The bathtub almost half full now she gets undressed, throws her clothes next to the washing machine and cautiously gets in. There’s nothing like a hot bath to get you through a hangover. Waiting for the hot water to cover her up like a blanket of tranquillity, she falls asleep again.
Steam slowly rises from the bathtub, filling the entire room; it reaches the mirror and quickly condenses. And then, the foggy mirror reveals a dark message from the night before: “REDRUM” is written in the center, with crooked capital letters. There’s some more writings underneath: