I don't even know who is real me anymore, I just know that one shitty thing happens after the next and I have learned to accept defeat and move on. Nothing is worth the fight anymore when life just uses you as a relative punching bag.

My home peaks out over the snow and I am sure my entire body is blue from the chill that has over taken me. The red door that leads into my house has a beautiful piece of paper stuck to the door and I groan knowing what this is. I always get these.

Nicely on the bottom of the page is a handwritten note by my landlord, Sultana if you can't pay rent this month you will be evicted. I'm sorry.

My landlord has been nothing but understanding, but in the end the economy is what matters most, so I accept the note and walk into the living room dropping the letter on the chair as I walk past it.

Knowing I have promised to eat dinner with my neighbor I let out a light sigh and walk to my closet to grab a black tee and a pair of dark jeans. I leave my hair in the pony from earlier and leave the makeup not wanting to have to explain the bruise across my cheek. I slip on converse checking through my fridge for something to bring over, so it doesn't seem like I am using her for warm food. Even though that is exactly what I am doing. Grabbing a can of whip cream, I move to grab my jacket leaving the note in the chair, I'll send an email to my landlord later.

Carefully walking to my neighbors my knuckles roll over the old door sending a loud noise through the home alerting her of my presence.

She opens the door a second later, "Oh my! Purple! You are home early? Where is your car?"

When I first moved in, she came to greet me, and I had tears running down my face as I threw the little number of things that I owned into the apartment. She came over and hugged me till I stopped crying. When she asked for my name, I shook my head, I didn't want anyone to know who I was if I could avoid it and she respected that with saying, 'fine no name, I'll call you purple, because of your eyes.'

She didn't tell me her name either and I never asked. I call her Lady. She was running from something long ago from what I can tell. She has no pictures around her home and deep scars run down her arms that she usually covers with a long-sleeved shirt. The only thing she can't cover most of the time is the one that travels from her temple down to her collar bone. I haven't asked about that either and she doesn't ask about my bruises. We understand each other.

To answer her question, I shrug my shoulders and she purses her lips not saying anything. I hold up the can of whip cream and she laughs lightly, "I tell you that you don't have to bring anything, but I always get a little excited to see what you bring. It never goes with anything that I make."

One time I brought her a bottle of dish soap and then I used it to do our dishes. That made her almost fall on the floor in laughter.

We walk into the house and move to the kitchen where the smell of food exits the kitchen. Usually I get here when it is cold and needs to be heated, it will be new to really have it warm.

"So why are you home so early?" Lady turns to me and looks me up and down in worry.

"Fired." I reply, and she sucks in a breath and releases it slowly.

"I have the right mind to go in there and scream my head off until they give you that job back, but I won't you were too good for them anyways." She mumbles and stirs the broth sitting on the stove, "Oh I made chicken noodle by the way and some fresh bread, it seemed like the perfect winter dinner."

That sound's amazing thank you so much. Is what I wanted to say, but I simply watch her cook and stand at the doorway to the kitchen.

"And where is your car young lady?" Lady grabs two bowls from the cabinet.

"Lit on fire." She doesn't even seemed surprise that I would have that kind of luck.

"Well if you need to borrow my car purple to go to classes please do. You know I don't drive that thing." She ladles the soup into the bowls and sets it on the counter for me to grab. I try not to seem like I am starving, but I almost jump for the food. I barely remember there is bread and start to guzzle down the soup.

"We have spoons young lady." The woman tsks and pulls her hair more over her scar. My cheeks turn a little red and she hands me a silver spoon taking the bowl from my hands at the same time. She ladles me another bowl and I almost jump out of my skin with how thankful I am.

"Here. Now sit and eat with me." I sit immediately, and she sets a plate of bread on the table letting me go for that as well.

We eat in silence and enjoy each other's company not knowing what tomorrow will bring.