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ISABELLA
Relief overcameme as the guy’s hands were forcibly removed from my body. He had one hell of a grip, holding onto me as if I was his property, or worse. I felt the stinging pain of a friction burn on my side. Never in my life had I allowed myself to get so wasted. I was usually the prim and proper one at parties. That’s not to say that I didn’t know how to cut loose, but those moments were few and far and between, and even then, I knew my limits. If it hadn’t been for the help of strangers, who knows what would have happened.
Two girls helped me into the hallway, whispering in my ear to take it easy as we made the short journey to my bedroom. My hands gripped the wall as I steadied myself, instantly regretting my choice of shoes that evening. I’d always been a bit clumsy, so choosing high heels and alcohol was a dumb idea. Just goes to show that I hadn’t planned on binge drinking until I could hardly stand. All I needed to do was make it to my bedroom, lock the door, and everything would be fine. I could sleep away my stupid decisions and deal with the repercussions in the morning, namely the embarrassment.
The overhead light nearly blinded me as I stumbled onto my bed as the door opened. Too inebriated to even kick off my shoes, I felt my way onto the small, twin-sized bed. One of my breasts nearly popped out of my dress as I rolled over, allowing the cold, concrete wall behind me to cool me down. The bass from the music downstairs shook the walls, but I was far too drunk for it to bother me too much, especially because I was about two minutes away from passing out.
The two girls sat on the edge of the bed as I watched the bedroom door, waiting for it to close. It’d help drown out the music, but I wasn’t about to find the strength to climb out of bed and my sisters were still concerned about my safety.
“It only locks from the inside, so should one of us stay up here?”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I mean, the guy’s gone, so I think she’s safe.”
“Who the hell was he, anyway?”
That’s what I wanted to know.
When the guy first started dancing with me, it felt good, fantastic even. As though I were finally free from Jason, if only for a night. The cruel grasp of reality dragged me right back into my own personal hell. I was stuck with a boyfriend who refused to dance out of fear he’d look foolish, so why not indulge myself? Besides, it’s not like he’d ever find out about an innocent dance. People loved to gossip, but there was nothing to gossip about without the ulterior motive of starting drama. Who was I kidding? College girls loved to stir the pot.
I thought about the way the guy gripped my waist, as though I’d run away at any moment, and it raised the hair on the back of my neck. There was something in the grit in his voice, something about the way his alcohol-laced breath promised to take care of me for the night. He wasn’t a knight in shining armor, ready to whisk me away from the castle. He was a predator in the wide open, not caring one bit that he was attempting to commit the crime in front of a crowd of onlookers.
The concrete wall wasn’t cooling me down fast enough for my liking, so I reached for the shoulder strap on my dress and began peeling it downward. I was stopped by the hand of one of the girls, urging me to stop.
“Keep your clothes on,” she said before standing up to open the window a crack.
A cool, autumn breeze entered the bedroom, cooling me down. I finally felt good enough to kick off my shoes and throw myself backwards onto the bed, my body resting above the covers. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the girls watching me as I laid there motionless.
“Let’s go downstairs, you guys. She’ll be fine,” one girl said as they both headed for the door. She flipped off the light and pulled the door to a close, stopping just short of latching the door.
A thin veneer of light slipped through the cracks, lighting the foot of my bed in a billowed pale yellow. The faintest hint of dust particles danced in the tiny beam of light as the door pushed open, the silhouette of a man casting a long shadow over my bed.
Just as I dozed off, I heard him say, “Don’t worry gorgeous, that guy won’t be coming back tonight.”
* * *
I awokethe next day to a raging headache. The alcohol definitely contributes the most to the rock band playing inside my head. Although the flock of birds chirping incessantly outside the window certainly didn’t help. Wild animals weren’t known for their manners, but I wished under my breath that they would fly somewhere far away.
My body felt like it’d been to hell and back, hit by a truck, and then abandoned in a coal mine to wither and die. Every muscle hurt, even my arm, as I lifted it to rub my forehead, desperately trying to remember what’d happened last night. A failed attempt at sitting up resulted in me plopping back down in bed, still wearing my red dress. That was a first and a new low.
It wasn’t until a breeze blew my curtains open a bit that things started coming back to me.
Remembering that someone had left me a glass of water, I rolled over and fumbled through my nightstand. It was full of sticky notes, pens, and feminine products. I reached in further until the distinct sound of a bottle of aspirin rattled in my hand.
I reached up with my other hand and groggily pulled back the curtains, covering my eyes as sunlight poured into my bedroom. With my fake eyelashes starting to fall off, I swallowed two pills and leaned up against the concrete wall.
I ripped off the eyelashes as the medicine went to work, although I knew that relief would be at least an hour away. I tossed the bottle onto the nightstand before guzzling the rest of my water. I rubbed my forehead once more, hoping that I would be able to massage the pain away enough so that I could fully open my eyes.
Something odd stole my attention from the other side of the room, and suddenly I didn’t have a problem opening my eyes. Sprawled across Emily’s bed was Blade Eggleston.
AKA, The Bedroom King.
He was shirtless, but somehow managed to sleep in his jeans.
My high-pitched scream could have woken up the dead, although there were no cemeteries nearby to be able to test my hypothesis. I could practically hear the zombies clawing at the doors. I screamed again as my fingers clawed at the sheets beneath me, as if they would magically save me.
My screams startled Blade. He rolled off the side of the bed, falling face-first onto the floor and crying out in pain. “Jesus fucking Christ!”
“Why the hell are you in my room?”
