Another Crazy

I wake up, looking around me at the red-stained sheets and the broken glass and the scattered clothing—I know something had happened here. I look to my right and see him there, sprawled out with his face smashed against the pillow, that smile of brainless sleep that comes with a night of getting trashed plastered across his face. I pull the covers off me, trying to get up to go take a piss, and as I push myself off the bed, I feel it. The pain riddling my body sends shock waves through me like a raging fire.
I look down and see bruises and red etchings of teeth scattered across my
skin.
“What the fuck!? How the fuck did this happen?” I half scream, half
whisper, not wanting to wake the naked body on the bed. “Oh my god.”
I roll my eyes, knowing I’d done it again. I’d found another crazy that seemed so impeccably sane. “Fuck shit.” I half limp to the bathroom, the bruises and bite marks on my legs still smarting, still discovering themselves. “God damn it.”
As I move to sit on the toilet seat, I discovered where the real problem would be. My ass felt so bruised and scratched that even grazing the seat sent pain so intense surging through my body that I thought my knees might buckle beneath me.
That was too much. I hurriedly limp back to the bedroom, delicately pulling on my pants and shirt, grabbing my purse then heading for the door. As I open it I hear a faint “Hey, where you goin’ baby?”
And I slam the door shut behind me.