Ch. 3 Return of the Alcohol

The next few days were pretty routine for a grounded girl. I carry on with usual business and every once in awhile my happiness bubble is popped when I remember I'm grounded (Buffy, if you already have punished me, DON'T REMIND ME OF IT EVERY OTHER DAY. K THANKS). I stole another necklace from the magic box today. The retail price was $56.00 dollars so I feel kinda bad about it. I'm out of hot water (for the most part) as long as Buffy never finds out. I've also had a tough time covering up my 'accident'. Yes, I call cutting myself an accident.. it's not like it was a thought out thing. Like I said, it just happened. Anyways, I live in California AKA somedays it's hot as satan's balls and I would rather not wear an oversized sweater. Buffy was kinda suspicious today when I came home from school wearing a sweatshirt. I panicked and said I was cold (yeah, not a smart thing to say when the forecast is 90 degrees). We don't have a thermometer so Buffy felt my forehead and naturally I was burning (sweater + 90 degrees = hot and sweaty as fuck). So now it's a Friday and I'm forced to stay in bed. The first night that I had a chance of freedom and now I'm stuck at home. Buffy also won't let me stay at home by myself since I'm 'sick'. She keeps checking up on me every half hour and just brought me soup. I acted like I was too weak and tired to lift up the spoon and made her feed me. If I'm gonna stay home on a Friday, I might as well play it up. It's 12 o'clock and she just went to bed. She said if I started to feel really bad that I could go sleep with her, which is actually pretty nice. But, yeahhhh, I feel like sneaking out would make me feel a lot better.

I place a few pillows under the covers and crawl out the bedroom window. I told Kit I'd meet her at the Bronze in 30 minutes. I arrive at 12:35, near perfect timing.

"Hey, Dawn." Kit taps me from behind the shoulder. I'm wearing jeans and a tee while she has on black leather pants and a crop top. I've realized recently that I'm more attracted to girls than I am guys. I think for now I will keep this to myself, though. If I ever came out to anyone it would be to Willow. It's not like I've fallen in love or anyhing, so I don't see the big rush in announcing it to the world. Also, before anyone gets ooked out, I'm not attracted to Kit in that way. We are best friends (and Kit is totally straight).

"Wanna try and score some drinks?" I look over towards the bartender. It's not like I'm an alcoholic, but I like to have a good time when I go out with friends.

Kit smirks, "Be right back with a round of shots."

I watch as Kit goes over to the bartender and flirts it up. They are both laughing when Kit finally leans in to ask him a question. He smiles and hands her an entire bottle of Bacardi 151. Damn. Is he trying to get us fucked up or what? I'm not complaining, though. I see Kit strut herself back over to where I'm sitting. She holds the bottle like it's a trophy and continues to model it.

"I would like to thank my parents, my manager, and most importantly, the alcohol Gods!" Kit and I both start laughing.

"Wanna take the first shot?" Kit hands the bottle to me. And with that, I take the cap off and take my first drink of hard liquor. Yep, I nearly died. I instantly start gagging and my throat feels like fire.

"UGHH. How the hell do people drink this shit?" Kit and I once again start laughing. I hand the bottle to Kit and can see the fear in her eyes.

"Ehhh, I'm kinda nervous about taking a drink!" She closed her eyes as she knocked back her first drink. Her nose flared up and she looks like she is about to spit it back up. "Not as bad as I thought it would be," Kit says as she struggles to recover her voice. Three drinks later and we are fairly gone. I look at my watch to see it's 1:30. I also look over to the restrooms and notice I have to piss.

"I'm.. I'm gunna go piss."

"Ok, I'm gunna go.. I'm gunna go dance."

Yep, don't sound drunk at all! I head over to the restroom and proceed to the back of line of many others who are waiting to use the facilities.

"Hey!" The girl in front of me yells. She appears to be with other friends.

I laugh, "Hey!" She then holds up her hand for a high-five and I gladly accept.

"Ya having a good time?"

"Yeah," I smile, "just took a few drinks of Bacardi 151, so I'd say I'm doing pretty well."

The darkish brown haired girl looks like she had just recieved the best news on the fucking planet. "No way! If I gave you a drink of my Captain, could I try some Bacardi?"

Sure, why not? I've never tried Captain before. "Sure, why not!" We have a pretty good conversation until I finally get to pee. I learned that her name is Tessa and she's Native American, which explains her light brown skin tone. She's in the same grade as me (11th) and just turned 17, and we go to the same school! She also doesn't think I can hold my liquor. She is probably right but I won't let her know that. She has short hair, nice brown eyes, and long eyelashes. She has style too, that's a major plus. She's also insanely funny and I can tell she isn't just a party animal. You meet so many people at the Bronx who just seem one dimensial. She actually seems like a real person. A real, nice, funny person. Let's just say she doesn't seem like the kind of person who would text, "lol ttyl c u soon".

"How was taking a shit?" Tessa nudges my arm on our way back to my table.

"I had tuh' pee I already told you!" Our laughter shortly ceases as I see my phone ringing. Shit, Buffy is calling me.

"I uh.. gotta go," Tessa looks pretty confused, "Look, see my table over there? Tell my friend that I had to go."

"What? Why?" I can tell that she looks pretty bummed.

"I snuck out and now my sister is calling me. I'm dead."

"Well if you're already caught, why don't you just stay out?" I can tell she really wants me to stay. I mean, so do I.

"I wish I could. But the longer I stay out, the more dead I will be when I get home. Plus, she will probably go looking for me. I don't feel like making her worry. I hope you understand."

"Nah, it's okay. Will I see you at school?" She looks at me eagerly.

"I hope so. Gotta go!" I yell as I run towards the exit. Once I make it outside I realize that I'm pretty wobbly. The hard part will be making it home. The long journey home was a blur. I fell over quite a few times but finally made it back to my street. I see the living room lights are on; not a good sign. I get up to the door and see it's already unlocked; NOT A GOOD SIGN. I step inside and the silence doesn't last for long.

"Dawn!" I hear a distant sounding voice. I know Buffy is standing right next to me but she sounds like she is standing on the other side of the room. I hear her say something but my mind doesn't register it. I can tell where this is going. This is the part where I can't remember what happens next. I remember thinking how bad the situation was and that I should've lsitened to Tessa. I should've just stayed out and sobered up. All I remember is seeing vomit on my shirt.

I wake up to the bright ass sun and instantly feel like dying. I know why I'm in different clothing and I know that I fucked up bad. I honestly feel like ending my life for a split second. I'd hate me if I was Buffy. I already hate me for screwing up this bad. I start crying. I can't stop, either. I get up and throw things around while pacing back and forth again. I know what I'm gonna do next. I grab the damn scissors and cut below my old one. I cut back and forth with my scissors and yell out in pain. I don't care who hears me because this shit hurts. It feels so good, though. I feel like a piece of shit who deserves this. Finally, I throw the scissors down after making three fresh cuts. Wait, why isn't there a bandaid on my old one?

Buffy must've saw the bandaid while changing my clothes last night. I hope she didn't think it was self inflicted. I calm down and lean against my wall. I stay sitting on the floor and try to calm myself down for the next hour. I put a couple bandaids over my cuts and throw on a sweatshirt. I slowly get up and leave my bedroom. I head down the stairs and prepare myself to recieve the death penalty.