"Clarissa Morgernstern, get back down these stairs right now!"
I shook my head in disgust, listening to the echoes of my mother's voice resonate in my ears.
"Do you hear me?" Jocelyn screeched, and I winced slightly at the sound. I was used to this. It happened the same way every Friday and Saturday night; I'd go out with Simon to god knows where, get drunk, arrive home in the early hours and then get shouted at.
It was a routine that came out of nowhere.
I reached the top of the stairs and made straight for my bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind me, and then instantly thinking of Jonathon asleep in the room opposite. I winced again, afraid I'd woken him up, and flopped on my bed, the mattress sinking slightly under my weight.
Why am I always the one to get the blame? I thought, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose to stop the alcohol from going to my head. It was a feeble attempt.
I didn't do it to spite my Mom and Dad. I loved my family more than anyone in the world, and I had the 18 years to prove it. But I was a teenager, and I just wanted to do what regular, normal teenagers did. Get drunk and party hard.
I sat up, sighed, and slid to the edge of the bed, blood rushing back up to my face. I pulled off my black boots slowly, wiggling my aching toes, and pulled my phone from my pocket. I was surprised to see it was flashing red, considering I'd charged it up before I left the house 4 hours ago. Damn Blackberry's.
I typed a quick text to Simon before crashing back on the bed, holding my phone to my face to wait for his reply. Should've stayed at yours.
Sorry babe. You should've said. – S
I laughed at Simon's text, and then regretted it after my phone slipped through my sweaty fingers and landed on my face.
I felt like such an idiot (even though no one could see me), and aimed to throw my stupid damn phone towards the ceiling, before realising that probably wasn't a good idea and tossed it on my beside table instead. I kicked my jeans off and wrapped myself in the covers, smashing my face into the downy pillow and drifting off almost instantly.
That night, I dreamt of him.