"I don't want to see the world that way anymore
I don't want to feel that weak and insecure
As if you were my fucking pimp
As if I was your fucking whore."
The words echo through me, soothing me, understanding my fury; reflecting my hatred back at myself. Its funny how music can be the only thing that comes close to touching how fucking shitty you really feel.
I take another sip. Then another. Then another. And I try to forget. But how can you let go of the only thing that makes you feel in control? My anger is all I have right now and I will make fucking sure it doesn't leave me anytime soon.
The rage tore through me, a shameful fury penetrating my thoughts.
I closed my eyes, trying to block out the image of their sweaty, writhing bodies…
It was too much. The bottle touched my lips again as I threw back my head and felt the cool liquid run down my throat, soothing me inside.
Ugly.
Fat.
I'll never be enough.
Where did my pathetic struggle to try and hold onto what I loved get me? Alone. Unwanted. Replaced.
I try to smooth down my mini skirt, attempting to look at least half respectable. My thighs are on full display. Maybe wearing heels wasn't the best idea; I feel myself overbalancing, and next thing I know I'm on the floor on my hands and knees. Sobbing, I try to stand up and pull myself together. If he could see what a fucking state I am right now. Drinking in the street after getting kicked out of the club for bringing my own bottle in. Mascara running down my blotchy face as I try to make sense of my surroundings. This was definitely not how I had planned for tonight to go. Minus getting absolutely fucking wasted, that is. That was certainly my intention.
I try to ignore the judgemental and pitying glances being thrown my way. Right now I don't give a shit what they think. A wave of nausea courses through me as I close my eyes to stop the world from spinning.
"Fucking state of her. Jesus, I thought she was an 8 but I wouldn't want her near me now!"
Some fucking arsehole laughs loudly to his scumbag small dicked friends.
"Take a picture, it'll fucking-"
Last longer, was what I aimed to say. But I find my words cut short as I double over, retching and gagging. The clear liquid splashed the street in front of me again and again, as I try to avoid it from covering me. It is never ending, my throat is raw from the effort. Tears stream down my face, as my body convulses, getting rid of at least some of the poison inside me.
I allow my mind to wander as I sink down again, my head falling into my hands. I need time to think; I need peace and quiet... I just need to stop…
I am drowning in self-pity, lost in my disfiguring self-hatred. How did I get here?
But I am actually drowning. Struggling to breathe. I can't scream; I can't move.
"For fuck's sake! What are you doing to yourself!"
I hear a voice in the distance. They sound angry, as if this is my fault.
They shake me, jolting me back to life.
"For Christ's sake. Wake up."
Fuck's sake, I don't need this. My head is pounding. I peel open an eye, slowly, not wanting to face the situation. I make out a figure standing by me.
It's Emily.
How did she find me? I guess she eventually figured out I'd been kicked out. I look up, then realize I'm no more than a few metres away from the club anyway, Guess I didn't make it very far.
Reality begins to creep up on me as I realise once again I've drank myself to oblivion.
Through my blurred vision I can make out an empty vodka bottle; the beautiful Irregular Choice high heels that I kicked off in my drunken haze next to it. And of course, the street, covered in my vodka induced vomit. How classy.
And, oh God, I think I've hit a new low.
"What's that smell? Jesus."
"What? I don't…" I start, but then I realise. I know exactly what it is. I've passed out, nothing new there. But this time I've pissed myself.
"I'm getting us a fucking taxi." She sighs, helping me up.
I could do with a bit more sympathy. I mean Jesus, it's not my fault my life has been ruined by those bastards. It's my heart that's breaking here. I don't understand why everyone just seems to be frustrated with me. I feel fresh tears fall down my face. Alcohol always makes me loud, aggressive… and emotional. I just want him.
"I love you, Katie." She says, suddenly, as if she read my thoughts. Which to be fair, she probably did. We know each other so well we rarely need to tell one another what we're thinking.
"I wish you'd stop." She says quietly. "I wish you'd stop destroying yourself over them."
We climb into the cab together, sitting next to each other in the back as Emily direct him where to go, and I try my best to look only very drunk as opposed to paralytic and covered in my own urine.
I close my eyes finally, as we start to move. I feel Emily hold my hand. We sit in silence on the way back to hers, but she doesn't let go.