what happened?

The dots appear again. Colours disintergrate. Purple and yellows entwined together. Bruise like. Focus. What happened?
Clanking - glass against glass. Plastic handles straining. Squelching trainers. One foot trudes along. The other shortly follows. The wind scrapes her face. It whistles loudly. No light emits above. Black clouds battle. Eagle eyed. Her feet quicken. Thump. Thump. Her fingers twirled round her keys. Don't. Look. Back. "Sorry", she mumbles; darting inbetween a couple. The bag bangs into her leg. The handles twist; trapping her fingers together. A deep voice swears. Ignoring all voices. Run. RUN! Even her own. Her feet stumble along. Music blares from the pub. Susies peers in. Laughter. Gossiping. She lingers. Soaking up the atmosphere. She drops her keys; rooting in the pocket. Nothing. Her feet begrudingly move away. Susies thoughts drift as she heads home.

* I dreamt of you again. I still can't picture your face. But its you. Walking as the sky lights golden. I'm heading in the wrong direction. Not lost. Letting the hands of time slip away. Brown houses one after the other. A zebra crossing. Waitrose. At the roundabout I go round it as if I am a car. I steadily walk back the way I came. Past a pub garden. The chairs pushed neatly under the tables. It is too quiet. Even the birds do not twitter. As usual my phone disrupts everything. I know its from you. Your name lights up. Carrying on the conversation from yesterday. My fingers linger over the buttons. I close my eyes. Blank. I sigh. I detour back onto the main road, eyes down, feet racing. I stop. I refuse to look to see when the next bus is due. I blink at the empty round. Then I am awake. No new messages. And still I'm waiting. *

Susie pours herself another glass of wine. She must stop thinking. Her hand cranks up the music. She jigs around her living room, head banging, fist in the air, "I'M MR BRIGHTSIDE". Her hands swing around as she plays air guitar. "Ouch!," Susie groans as her arm colides with a chair. She swears and staggers onto the sofa. "Bloody idiot," she mutters to herself. Her hand rubs her arm. Purple colouring is beginning to form. Her head rolls back, her eyes trying to shut. Suddenly she bolts upright. I need more drink she thinks. She knocks back her wine; her face shudders at the sharpness. Grapping the bottle she decides to change over the cd. Thats better, she thinks as she swigs from the bottle, much better.

Susie snaps out of her daydream. She peers at her left arm. It has doubled in size, purple with hints of sickly yellow and green. Rubbing it hurts too much. She leans her head against the toilet. She has a feeling she is going to need it. Spinning and spinning. She slowly breathes in and out. Her eyes avoid her reflection. What happened? She tries to refocus but her thoughts blurr past. Bang bang in her ears. Her throat is ablaze.