"Lily, you need to come out with us." I do my best to ignore my roommate's loud and painfully cheerful voice and bury my head deeper under the pillow. And when I feel the blanket sliding off me, I can no longer stay silent. I sit up and brush my long blonde hair out of my eyes.

"I'm tired," I tell her. It's true, I'm exhausted—mentally and physically spent. I've been that way for so long now I can't remember what it feels like to be anything other than tired and depressed. I give her my best "leave me alone, or I will kill you" glare.

She is not impressed. No surprise there. Not much fazes Stef. She stands at the foot of my bed. Her long black hair has streaks of blue threaded through it, and the overhead light bounces off a small metal hoop pierced through her right eyebrow. Stef crosses her arms in front of her and tilts her head to the side, waiting.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and run my hands down my bare calves. I'm dressed only in an extra-large, gray, somewhat tattered t-shirt that stops short of the top of my thighs. "I've got nothing to wear." I can tell by her expression she doesn't believe me.

I force myself up and slowly walk over to the closet. There are empty plastic hangers on the wooden rod and on the floor of the closet lies a large pile of dirty clothes. I sweep my arm across the empty hangers. "Like I said, notta to wear." I had planned to do laundry today but, like most of my days off, instead of doing anything productive I spent most of my time in bed. My life has turned into a blur of mindless days at work and miserable nights feeling sorry for myself at home.

"You can wear something of mine," she says.

It's Saturday night, and Stef is dressed to party. I take in her outfit—the black t-shirt shredded artfully from the waist down, the orange and black plaid mini skirt, the black striped tights, and the chunky black boots. I try to imagine myself in that outfit, and I can't help but burst out laughing.

Stef's mouth lifts into a smile. "It's good to hear you laugh again."

"Fine, I will come along if it gets you off my back. But I come tonight, and for the rest of the month, you lay off with the nagging," I insist, finger pointed right at her for emphasis. I mean business. That is, until she picks a fight with me again.

Stef is nodding in excitement. She didn't think she would ever con me into going out with her and her friends. Honestly, I'm as surprised as she is that I agreed to go.

Once she leaves the room, I sit and stare at the wall in front of me. There is a picture hanging of a girl with a wide smile on her face. There's a violin in her left hand, a bow in her right. There's excitement and happiness shining from her eyes that is evident even through the black and white photograph.

I realize tears are welling up behind my lashes, and when a tear slides down my cheek, I'm filled with overwhelming despair. I stalk over to the photo, grab it, toss it across the room, and take great pleasure when it crashes hard against the floor.

I look down at the photo, at the girl whose face is full of happiness, full of excitement, a girl who sees nothing but possibilities in her future. The girl in the photo is me, but I haven't been that girl for a very long time.

Stef comes back into the room, her arms full of clothes. Concern fills her face, and she looks as though she's going to say something, but then she stops and swallows whatever she was going to say.

She forces a smile on her face, walks over and drops the pile of clothes on the bed. "A night out is just what you need." She picks up a bright red dress with a triangle cut out across the middle. "Now let's find you something to wear."

***

I feel ridiculous. I'm wearing the most conservative dress in Stef's wardrobe—it's black, tight, short, and cut extremely low in the front. In an attempt to cover up as much as possible, I've paired it with a large men's gray suit jacket, another one of Stef's treasured thrift store finds. But even with the jacket, I still feel uncomfortable and terribly exposed.

Stef dresses like this every day. She is a girl confident about her curvy figure and sexuality. I'm jealous of her audacious and fearless personality.

I stumble along in a ludicrously high pair of black heels.

Then we are moving down the almost empty street and gliding through a pair of metal doors. A wave of loud music hits me. It is so loud I can feel it vibrating against my skin. The room is full of bodies, a hundred young people all crammed into this space of music and colored flashing lights. For a moment, I feel panic. And then Stef's next to me, a wide grin spread across her face. I can't hear a word she's saying, but she gestures toward her right.

I follow her as best I can through the crowd. I'm bumped and jostled as I go, afraid I may never make it out of this madness in one piece when I suddenly stumble. The music changes tempo, and the lights go off. I wonder if I'm going to completely lose my balance and be trampled to death, when I'm abruptly stopped against a hard body. A pair of strong hands wrap around my arms and pull me close.

The club lights come back on, and I find myself looking into a pair of emerald eyes. I can only see glimpses of him between the flashing blue and white lights. He's taller than I am, and I find myself leaning back to look at him. His broad shoulders exude strength, and I watch the muscles in his neck flex as his hold continues. He's wearing a dark tank top with splashes of color. His bare arms are thick, toned and fit, and one is covered completely in tattoos.

We are the only two standing completely still among a crowd of people jumping and bumping and grinding. He's staring into my eyes, then I watch as his gaze continues down my body. His expression is one I can't make out. Indifference? Boredom? Maybe slight amusement? It couldn't possibly be recognition, although something about his glance makes me wonder...

Stef's next to me again. I turn and motion to her that I'm all right and when I turn back around, my savior is gone.

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