A/n: Please r&r!
Disclaimer: Disney owns Hannah Montana, well just until my fairy godmother pops up and grants my wishes…And we all know that's never gonna happen!
&&:: Chapter One ::&&
The room sinks of Tag body spray, old sheets, sweat, salvia, body juices, like...
But I continue to stay in this room...Thinking about...Ow! God my head hurts, I clutch it as if maybe that will make it go away...Maybe that's why it's illegal for seventeen year olds to drink...
Everything is fuzzy, like a high, and I can't concentrate. I can't collect my thoughts of what just happened…Did he rape me?
No, HE wouldn't do that...He's not the type of person to...Rape you? Listen to me, Lilly, if anyone knows you like I do-He raped you. He took advantage of you while you were intoxicated by alcohol and forced you to have sexual intercourse with him. He raped you and you know it. The little voice in my head tells me this but the buzz from the beer has somewhat dimmed her usually very annoying, yet very wise tone.
Tears suddenly seemed to appear, trailing down my face. I lick my lips, and taste the tears salty taste, bitter sweet in my mouth.
I lay in the off the wall white sheets for a few more seconds, my eye lids feel so heavy that I have to shut them, if only for a second.
And then I remember that this isn't my room. No this is Josh's house, this is probably his room too. I sit up in the bed gingerly, and a knot in my stomach tightens.
I grab the sheet and cover myself as I search the room for all of my clothes, and pull them on. And I try to make the bed so it seems as if I was never there, but my hands are shaking so hard that I just finally give up, and leave the covers wrinkled on the bed.
My hands flutter over my hair, trying to smooth the messy blonde curls that I had spent two hours earlier curling.
I open the door, slowly, peeking out to see if anyone is in the hallway. But no one's there. The other three bedroom doors are close, and a shiver runs down my spine as I think-Maybe some guy is in each of those rooms raping some innocent girl?
The sounds of the party become clearer as I make my way down the stair case, I Write Sins Not Tragedies by Panic! At the Disco blasting out of the speakers in the living room.
"Lilly! I've been looking all over for you" Oliver's voice is music to my ears, he's sitting on the bottom step of the stairs.
He looks so different now, I find myself thinking, he grown into his huge head that's for sure. His muscles are clear under a black Rolling Stones tee shirt, his hair hasn't changed much-Still long and brown, huge cinnamon colored brown eyes, straight white teeth after a few years of braces and retainers.
I try to smile, but it comes out in more of a grimace and once again a headache overcomes me. I'm shaking slightly as I hold onto the banister.
He looks worried, he jumps up from his sitting position, and his hands are suddenly steadying me.
I push him out of the way as I rush to the nearest bathroom and hurry as the bile arises in my throat. I lean over the toilet, and the urge to throw up is now claiming my entire body as I puke it all out. My body aches, and my head feels like I've just been hit by a train.
Everything that once was in my stomach is now floating idly in the white porcelain toilet, and my hair is damply sticking to the side of my face.
"Lilly?" his voice rings in my ears. And I can't even look at him. He must think I'm disgusting...Or something just as bad...
I brush back the strands of hair from my face, and relax my back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, and look up at him.
He's just a few feet away, the doors closed behind him, and he looks...Damn...I can't think of what his face looks like.
The bitter taste returns, and I'm huddled over the toilet once again. God...Am I dieing? It was just a few drinks.
The sound of water running interrupts my inner pleadings with God, and I look over at the sink where Oliver is now holding a wet display wash cloth, and approaching me. He kneels beside me.
His right hand holds my chin, and the wash cloth gently is placed against my skin. The cold water trailing down my face like tears, but feels so much better. He wipes my forehead, the mascara, and tears from my cheeks, the remnants of the up-chuck from my lips.
The awful after taste is stuck in my mouth, but I manage to utter a thank you to the one person who has known me by entire life.
"Lilly, I'll be right back okay? I'm going to go get my jacket-My keys are in it, and I'll take you home. Okay?" he asked, his voice soft.
I nodded, and he left, closing the door behind me leaving me in the now seemingly empty bathroom. I flushed the toilet, hoping that would be the last of it.
I rose from the floor, thanks to the help of the corner of the sink, and stood in front of the small mirror that was just above the sink. My face looked awful-Eyes bloodshot, lids puffy, nose red, lips chapped. I splashed cold water on my face, and tried to smooth down my hair again with my hands.
Taking in a deep breath, I opened the door. Familiar, yet now vague faces appeared laughing and dancing. I spotted Oliver now coming towards me, a brown leather jacket hung over his arm, and keys in his hand.
I smiled weakly at my savior, and was comforted by him yet again, as his hand held mine. He led me through the sea of people and we got curious stares as we walked out of the house together, fingers entwined.
He opened the passenger door, and I climbed into the large red 2007 Silverado, that Oliver somehow obtained after working every few hour after school that he could.
He closed the door softly, and getting in on the other side, turning on the car with a simple twist of the key. The soft voice of JT Woodruff, singing Saying Sorry, playing off of an old Hawthrone Heights cd. Oliver twisted the volume knob, and the music was turned off. The silence hung in the air like a thick fog, but my headache had disappeared.
He turned off the engine when he pulled into the driveway of my house, in the spot where my yellow beetle usual is.
He looked distant, as he mumbled a good-bye when I had finally made it to the ground from the enormous truck.
"Oliver...Will you stay here with me?" I asked, choking out the words, "I mean...My parents aren't here...And I don't want to be alone..."
