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Chapter Six
There’s a thumping inside my head that wakes me up with a groan. Disoriented, I open my eyes to greet the white ceiling on top of me, and it takes me more than a minute to process that I’m lying on the floor of the bathroom. A thin sunray filters through the small window, and it’s enough to hurt my sensitive eyes. The floor is cold, hard, and uncomfortable underneath my body. How I ended up sleeping here is beyond my reasoning. I guess it’s a part of the chronicles of a drunk girl.
Wasted.Last night I was utterly wasted.
My muscles ache as I try to sit up to carefully observe my surroundings, registering how I’m feeling by segments. Instead of feeling better than I thought I would, I feel awful. There’s a terrible sour and bitter taste in my mouth, probably because I threw up at some point during the night. My eyes burn as the light continues to hit my face, making me wince. I’m sure that my heart moved to my head because it’s pounding inside my skull.
A moan escapes from my lips, and it only makes my discomfort grow as it drills my brain. Mentally, I make a note to my future self, reminding me not to pronounce any loud noises when I have a hell of a hangover. No, this isn’t a normal hangover. This is pure hell. I probably died during the night, and I’m resurrecting because this is pure torture.
My stomach is a disaster; a mix of nausea, pain, and a strange feeling of uncertainty has taken home in there. I don’t remember a lot of what I did. I’m confused and lost. However, I’m grateful that I woke up in my bathroom and not in the corner of a random street, which is a relief. Not because I’ve gotten through that before, but I’m afraid that something like that can happen to me.
I let my hands caress my temples for a minute, trying to ease the constant hammering in my head, wanting to break it in half.
The door slams open, and the grating sounds three times louder than it is. My senses are more susceptible thanks to the hangover.
I don’t want to drink again.
“Thank God you’re awake. I thought that you would never wake up.” Cora ventures inside the room only dressed in a long-sleeved black leotard and white ballet thighs that adjust to her lithe legs. Her blonde hair is tied in a tight and perfect bun. Not even a single hair is out of place. She’s exhibiting the perfection of what she is, a ballerina. “You don’t know how strange it was to shower with you being half-dead at the other side of the curtain.”
“What?”
I turn my head and notice that the shower curtain is dry. There aren’t any residues of recent water. How long ago did she shower? Because I’m confident that it must’ve been hours ago. Hell, the fact that she’s back from the academy lets me know that it has to be past noon.
I was passed out forhours.
“How much did you drink last night?” she interrogates, sounding like a mother taking care of her irresponsible daughters. “Karma is in another dimension, and the only reason why Ash woke up is that her phone wouldn’t stop ringing.”
And I’m sitting on the bathroom floor,I add in my mind because I know that she thought it. Her creased brows let me know that.
I’m aware that our current situation is not the best one, but it could’ve been worse and weirder. Ash and I have lived stranger events in the past. I can’t rememberone, but I’m sure of my statement.
“I—I don’t remember,” I admit in a low mumble.
My memories are a knot of confusing and blurry pictures that I can’t completely decipher. Putting them together is almost impossible. There’s a void every time that I try to remember everything that happened.
“That’s worrisome.”
I frown, not because I disagree because I do find it unsettling being in the shadows, but because it sounds like she doesn’t trust us.
What’s that supposed to mean?
“Explain yourself,” I ask, struggling to get up.
The mirror greets me, and I try not to look at my reflection, but it’s inevitable when I notice that my hair looks like a nest. There are huge knots on top, and my waves have turned into a weird mix between straight and curly that look like I was electrocuted. I have dark eye bags that mark my face over my cheekbones.
I look sick, and I feel like that too.
“Bree, I barely trust your sober judgment.”
I gasp, putting a hand on my chest, offended by her comment.
“How dare you say such a thing?” The question leaves my mouth in a skeptical scoff.
I avoid my reflection as I approach the sink to brush my teeth. The awful taste gets replaced with a minty one; my mouth feeling fresh and renewed after last night.
“It’s the truth, Bree. I just hope that you didn’t screw up a lot because I don’t think we have any contingency plan left.”
Yeah, I don’t think I have a plan for any more screw-ups. I’ve had enough to last a lifetime. We probably just listened to some bangers and kept joking around.I hope.I don’t have many chances to get myself into trouble when I’m with the girls. Mainly because Ash needs to watch her back in case her mom finds out of the stuff she does.
