Taylor's body had long come accustomed to hangovers, but she still liked to start her mornings with something stronger then coffee. Within seconds of waking up she'd rolled over to the edge of the bed and reached under, groping for her bottle of brandy knowing that it should of been resting next to the box had stored the shoes she wore once to a friends wedding. It wasn't there.
"Maybe I drank it all." she thought out loud, and got out of bed.
She was faintly aware that she was wearing the clothes she had found in the corner of the bedroom yesterday, and the smell of smoke hung around her like a cheap perfume. John was in the kitchen and for the life of her Taylor didn't know why.
"Have you moved my brandy?" she asked.
"Isn't it a little bit to early for brandy?" he replied.
"It's been today for nine whole hours so no, I don't. Now have you moved it?"
"No."
"Liar."
"Coffee's better."
He put a mug down in front of her and Taylor pushed it away. If she wanted it, she would of asked for it. "What are you doing here anyway?" she asked.
"It was your birthday yesterday. Remember?"
She gave a small nod and John sat opposite her, taking the mug. You would think that she had a bad life, maybe she was abused as a child or something. But from what she had told him her life had been fine. Before they severed all contact with her, her parents adored her and her Grandmother insisted on seeing her every week, though John secretly thought this had more to do with checking she was alive then anything else. There was just no solid reason he could come up with for her actions. Taylor put her head on the table and outstretched her bare arm, John noticed a bruise in the bend of her elbow and he contemplated it.
"Taylor, are you using drugs?' he asked, there was no point skirting around the issue.
She pulled her arm off the table and without looking up replied with "And if I was?"
"That's not an answer."
"That isn't a question."
She stood up and rubbed the bruise. "I'm going back to bed, are you coming?"
John wanted to say no because he was angry with her and the fact that there was a big chance she was now on drugs still hadn't sunk it. But John couldn't say no to her, and that was part of the problem.
John didn't realise that he had fallen asleep, but when he opened his eyes Taylor was standing in front of him dressed in her usual mini skirt and chunky boots. She had yet to put on a top and was drinking from a silver hip flask.
"You need to get up and leave." she told him matter-of-factly. "I'm going out." "Where?" "Out and if you needed to know more, I'd tell you." She put the flask down and picked a shirt up off the floor, fastening it quickly. Out meant a bar, with her delinquent friends, which meant that she would roll home at god knows what time in an unimaginable state. She smiled at him, it would have been nice if it hadn't been tinged with alcohol already. "Taylor," She went over to him and John took hold of her hand and pulled her down onto the bed.
"Be careful." Taylor gave a huge burst of giggles and threw her arms around his neck in an over exaggerated manner. "I'm always careful John! I have never ever gotten into an accident. I'll be fine." He pushed her away and held her arm, pointing to the bruise. "And none of this, whatever this is." Another smile. "I'll be fine." That didn't help his worries. But he wasn't her father. John let Taylor go.
"Maybe I drank it all." she thought out loud, and got out of bed.
She was faintly aware that she was wearing the clothes she had found in the corner of the bedroom yesterday, and the smell of smoke hung around her like a cheap perfume. John was in the kitchen and for the life of her Taylor didn't know why.
"Have you moved my brandy?" she asked.
"Isn't it a little bit to early for brandy?" he replied.
"It's been today for nine whole hours so no, I don't. Now have you moved it?"
"No."
"Liar."
"Coffee's better."
He put a mug down in front of her and Taylor pushed it away. If she wanted it, she would of asked for it. "What are you doing here anyway?" she asked.
"It was your birthday yesterday. Remember?"
She gave a small nod and John sat opposite her, taking the mug. You would think that she had a bad life, maybe she was abused as a child or something. But from what she had told him her life had been fine. Before they severed all contact with her, her parents adored her and her Grandmother insisted on seeing her every week, though John secretly thought this had more to do with checking she was alive then anything else. There was just no solid reason he could come up with for her actions. Taylor put her head on the table and outstretched her bare arm, John noticed a bruise in the bend of her elbow and he contemplated it.
"Taylor, are you using drugs?' he asked, there was no point skirting around the issue.
She pulled her arm off the table and without looking up replied with "And if I was?"
"That's not an answer."
"That isn't a question."
She stood up and rubbed the bruise. "I'm going back to bed, are you coming?"
John wanted to say no because he was angry with her and the fact that there was a big chance she was now on drugs still hadn't sunk it. But John couldn't say no to her, and that was part of the problem.
John didn't realise that he had fallen asleep, but when he opened his eyes Taylor was standing in front of him dressed in her usual mini skirt and chunky boots. She had yet to put on a top and was drinking from a silver hip flask.
"You need to get up and leave." she told him matter-of-factly. "I'm going out." "Where?" "Out and if you needed to know more, I'd tell you." She put the flask down and picked a shirt up off the floor, fastening it quickly. Out meant a bar, with her delinquent friends, which meant that she would roll home at god knows what time in an unimaginable state. She smiled at him, it would have been nice if it hadn't been tinged with alcohol already. "Taylor," She went over to him and John took hold of her hand and pulled her down onto the bed.
"Be careful." Taylor gave a huge burst of giggles and threw her arms around his neck in an over exaggerated manner. "I'm always careful John! I have never ever gotten into an accident. I'll be fine." He pushed her away and held her arm, pointing to the bruise. "And none of this, whatever this is." Another smile. "I'll be fine." That didn't help his worries. But he wasn't her father. John let Taylor go.