There was this terribly inconvenient thing about being stabbed: it hurt like a motherfucker and it took forever to heal. Granted, it had yet to be even a week since Eileen had proven to be a real psychotic bitch, so Emyli's side was still bruised all to hell and her stitches were still holding her skin together while her body patched itself up. She felt like she was some fragile porcelain doll or something; the slightest movement made her feel as though she was going to just shatter there on the spot. Thank god for Toby and his access to pretty much anything that dulled the pain. She didn't remember which pills were responsible for what side effect, but all she knew was the combination was working wonders on her. The past few days had gone by in a haze; she was sure the only reason she hadn't starved to death was because Toby kept making sure she ate something. Emyli was ready to be back to normal. She was sick and tired of seeing these intense flashes of Eileen's face and a vial of blood every single time she tried to close her eyes and grab a few minutes of sleep.
What was worse than actually living with the injury and the nightmares? Seeing the worry that was perpetually frozen onto Toby's face. She had yet to leave his place and go home -- she was sure that Eileen would somehow know where she lived and would come back for Round Two at some point -- so every time a dream woke her, she found Toby there watching her, concern etched into his features. She tried everything to convince him that she was just fine, but she knew he didn't believe her. Even if his face didn't betray his feelings, she could see his dreams and knew that he was almost obsessed with her state of being. She adored Toby and his friendship, but damn she felt like she was being smothered. That was why she had decided it was far past time to return to work. Of course, there was an ulterior motive to her going to work. She was scared shitless that Eileen was going to track her down and finish what she started on Sunday and Emyli did not do well being scared. She was half hoping, half terrified that Eileen would walk into the bar.
Fortunately, she had a few things to distract her as the night wore on. A shot here, a flirtation there, another shot, a pill in the bathroom, a quick smoke break, and oh yeah. The customers who were starting to get a little rowdy. She stared over at a kid -- yes, kid, because she was sure he may have turned twenty-one about half an hour ago -- as he ordered another beer. His eyes were already red-rimmed and his woven hat was a little crooked on his head. Emyli didn't even consider cutting him off; everyone deserved to get shitfaced at least once, so she passed another beer his way before she turned to look at Aiden, rolling her sleeves up. The shirt she wore over her tank top wasn't hers. To be honest, she didn't know if it was Toby's or if it was T.J.'s. All she knew was it was loose and didn't put any extra pressure onto her bandage.
"I think I need a shot of that tequila to get over the smell of bullshit in here." She half-joked.