Open Your Eyes Pt. I

"Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Open your eyes." I need to get rid of this thing. It really is starting to annoy me. I sat up in my bed and peered out the window, another gorgeous New York day. I let out a yawn and slowly climbed out of my bed. This day felt different for some reason. As I made my way to the bathroom, I turned off the TV that was in front of my bed that I had been watching last night. I got in at around four in the morning; Brian and I had been out late, throwing back shots of bacardi and orange juice. Who knows how many drinks I had, but I woke up feeling like someone just caught me in the side of the head with a metal baseball bat. I walked into the bathroom and the cool, tiled floor met my feet with a surprise that sent chills throughout both legs, with the coldness ending at my thigh. Why isn't the heat on? Goddamn furnace never works; I'll have to call up Omar to see if he can fix it, again. I turned on the hot water faucet on the sink and cupped a handful of water and splashed on my face. Staring at the mirror, watching the droplets of liquid slide off my face and into the marble sink, a memory of last night made its way into my head. How I remember it, I have no clue. The part of last night that was in my mind was Brian and I sitting at the bar in some swanky, New York City nightclub. We were both conversing with these two beautiful women about ourselves and our hobbies and useless shit like that, when one of them, I can't remember her name, handed me a small card with W 57th Street & 8th printed on it. I darted back into my bedroom. My pants were lying on the floor next to my bed, all wrinkly and still wet from last night's thunderstorm. I found the card in my front, left pocket and started to study it. But all that was on it was the street address. Interesting, I thought to myself. I'll give Brian a call. I threw on some sweatpants that were sprawled across my dresser and walked downstairs. The rest of the house was freezing too. As I made my way down the stairs, I heard some noise coming from the kitchen. It couldn't be Amelia; I gave her the day off. Could it be Julie? No, it couldn't be her either. We didn't sleep together again last night. I think. "Hello?" I called out, no response. "Is someone there?" Silence. I crept through the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible. I snatched a candleholder that was standing on a wooden set of draws and held it close to my chest. "If you don't leave now, I'll call the police. They'll be here in five minutes." Not a sound. Suddenly, a person jumped out from the kitchen holding one of my cooking knives. I stumbled back in shock and fell on my wrist. "Hahaha," the person started to laugh. "Brian! You fucking dick. I fell on my wrist; I think I might have sprained it. That wasn't cool man." "Oh, sorry Mr. Big Executive, I'll call 911 immediately," he said. "Yeah laugh it up, than you'll be out of a job," I responded, "I was just about to call you. Remember those two lovely ladies we were talking with last night-" "You mean, who you were talking with? I was just there to make sure you didn't drink too much and make a complete jackass out of yourself in front of them. Do you know how much you had to drink last night anyway?" "A lot," I said. "Yes, a lot. You're lucky you didn't choke on your own puke," Brian said. "Anyway, do you remember either one of their names?" "I do not recall, why? Let me guess, you got a number or something and were too wasted to remember her name like usual?" "Close, but not exactly. Take a look at this," and I handed him the card. "And this is." "That's what I'm trying to find out. You got nothing to do today right? You want to take a ride down there and see what's up?" I said. "Sure, what the hell. I was planning on sitting home all day watching a Kung-Fu marathon anyway."