I Am Living With an Idiot

Forty Seven || Hold My Hair

I stumble into my apartment, fumbling to lock to the door behind me. It was awkwardly dark. I couldn't see anything. I feel the wall up and around to find the switch or something. When I finally find it, I flick it on.

I try to take off my shoes, but my balance isn't working. I want to stay up, but I keep falling down. I finally get them off. I try to get to the couch, but I tripped and fell on my face instead.

I hear loud walking. Who is in my house? I can't fight anyone in my state. I'm going to die today. That's it.

It's getting closer and closer. Oh my, God, this is it.

I'll just lay here on the floor and accept my fate.

The footsteps are so close, I'm pretty sure they are right beside my head. I will keep my head down and then they might think I am dead. That is a good idea, Vena.

"What are you doing on the floor," a deep voice asks me. Don't move, Vena.

"Vena," he shakes my shoulder.

I stifle a laugh and he groans. "Vena, get up. That is not funny," the guy tells me.

I turn over, flat on my back and look at him. I recognized him a bit, so he must not be here to kill me, hopefully.

"Hello," I smile.

He shakes him head, "What is wrong with you?" he asks in a not–so–happy tone.

I shrug, although I do know. I stand up, waving a bit back and forth, but gain some balance. I stumble over to the couch. The boy crosses his arms, "Are you drunk, Vena?!" he shouts at me.

Wait a minute, I know who it is... James, the asshole.

I nod at him. I will not talk to him. "Leave me alone," I cross my arms across my chest. I don't have to talk to him.

He sits next to me. At the moment, my stomach didn't feel too good, actually, not at all. I'm going to be sick for sure.

I rush to the bathroom, surprisingly not tripping once.

I get on my knees and lean over the toilet. I could feel it coming up. I start to empty my stomach into the ceramic bowl. A moment later I feel my hair being pulled out of my face. I knew that I wasn't done yet, I drank a lot tonight.

A few minutes later, I was done at last. I felt a little more sober. Dammit, this is going to hurt like a bitch in the morning.

I reach beside myself and grab a piece of paper towel to wipe my mouth off.

I knew that James was behind me still. I stand up and flush the toilet. My legs felt wobbly and shaky. It's like that feeling you get when you haven't eaten in quite awhile.

James helps me into my room and helps me to my bed. I wasn't going to change. He made sure I was on my side. I guess that is smart considering, if I was on my back, I could throw up, choke and die.

He gives my shoulder a little rub and then leaves without saying a word to me. He shuts the door behind him and the room is completely pitch dark.

I may as well sleep and try to sleep some of my coming hangover off.

~

~

Why couldn't I just sleep longer? I wouldn't have to experience this hellish thing for as long. My curtains are open, when they were closed last night. I didn't open them. How nice of James to do for me... Note the sarcasm.

I'd say it's about one in the afternoon. I would look, but I left my phone in the living room... I think. I can hardly remember anything from last night, but I remember going to a party with Ryder. I really hope that my drunk-self didn't say anything to James last night.