WARNING: This chapter contains self-harm {cutting} and heavy drinking. Please note that I do not support either.
I keep forgetting to say this in the author's notes of my other chapters [I've been planning to say this since we hit 100] but:
THANK YOU!
261 reviews and I'm only a little over half way through the story? That's amazing. Thank you guys, again.
The door kept swinging, seemingly taunting me. Back and forth, back and forth. It just refused to settle down into a closed state. Every time it would open again, I was able to see into the party. Not a good thing. Even though I'm convinced that I immensely hate every single person here, what if somebody was drunk and tripped and landed face-first into the broken glass?
I'll clean it up. Maybe it will be good karma.
The glass lay shattered on the floor. Staring at it, I felt an involuntary shiver ripple down my spine and cascade through my body. I pushed the swinging door open a tiny bit and glanced around, desperate to see if anyone had noticed me. No one was looking at me, all too involved in their own conversations. I swiftly reached down to grab a piece of a single shard, reflecting the blinking lights of the party. I looked up again; James winked smugly at me, Chad was talking to Tawni, and Hayden's angry eyes met mine. His eyes were glaring at me with a fury so intense it sent another shiver through my body, this time out of fear.
I gripped the lone shard. I felt a prick of pain in my right hand. Glancing down, I saw a light stream of blood, trickling from a cut. The room swirled around me, the eyes staying still, continuing to pierce me with their fury.
Another stab of pain. I took a deep breath and released my grip on the tiny piece of broken glass. Finally, I glanced up again. The eyes were gone, James tore his attention away from me, and Chad was immersed in a new conversation, this time with a man. But his words still played in my head.
You are trash. Not only trash, but a trashy slut. And I don't know why I waste my time with you.
The three sentences repeated like a broken record. Not only that, but the look on his face and harsh tone were incredibly vivid in my memory.
And that's what pushed me over the edge.
I sighed, attempting to relax. This couldn't be happening. Not here. Not now. I was doing so good. I was so proud of myself. Why did I have to let even myself down? I glanced fervently around me, my eyes locking on the bathroom door. A safe haven. No one would see me. No one could follow me.
No, I silently cautioned myself. Not here. Not now. Concentrate. Think.
But despite my silent pep-talk my limbs still ached with anticipation. No one would notice if I left for a few minutes, would they? I opened the door again. A brief glance at the busy faces around the room confirmed that my presence would surely not be missed. In five quick paces I was inside the lovely, elegant bathroom that I had discovered on my first day here, breathing a deep sigh of relief. I was safe now. Safe from the critical glances, the condescending glares. Now the only person I had to fear was myself. Sinking to the cold hard floor, I pulled out the broken glass.
Who cared anymore? Why did I care about what was happening? Why should I care about anyone else? People only lead to disappointment. People were just liars and fakes.
I flipped over my left arm and brought the glass to my skin. I winced in pain as the blade pierced it. I dug deeper, pulling it towards me, watching the dark blood pour out of my wrist as if I was finally setting it free. I didn't blame it for not wanting to be inside me. I was a mess. At least the blood could escape me, I was stuck with me forever.
As the physical pain increased, my emotional pain plummeted. I love this part.
But for some reason, it didn't completely sooth me this time like it usually did. I didn't feel at peace any longer. I still wasn't okay.
I roughly pulled my sleeve back down, and abruptly exited the bathroom. I couldn't go on like this any longer. I just couldn't. I'd rather die then go through this torture.
Not exactly yearning to die at such a young age, I did the only thing I could do. I've seen this all of my life. It's the one thing wise that my uncle has taught me, that stuck with me. Alcohol. Alcohol leads to a more relaxed and at ease person, so I've seen.
That's why 80% of the people at this party were currently intoxicated. And look at how much fun they're having. And trust me, their lives aren't perfect. From my eavesdropping evening, I learned that most of their lives are almost as bad off as mine.
I walked out of the living room, and marched over to the bar with a purpose, blocking out everything and everyone except for my final destination. I kept my eyes forward, and tried not to let myself get too caught up in my actions, and the words from others swimming around me.
After a few quickly exchanged words between the friendly looking bartender and I, I finally took a swing from the warm bottle of wine, closing my eyes as I took a gulp. The warm liquid stung at my tongue and throat as I swallowed. I opened my eyes and glanced around the room. No one was looking at me, no one was staring, no one was judging.
Finally, I felt safe.
An hour and a half later
"I want another one." I demanded throatily, cradling my throbbing head.
"I really think you've had enough." Mike, the bartender, urged.
"No, I want another one! Hit me!" I whined like a toddler, and pouted. Suddenly, a poppy beat sprung into my mind.
"Hit me baby one more time!" I yell-sang, and then burst into hysterical laughter.
"But really," I said when I finally sobered. (Get it? Sobered! Like in the sense of my bizarre laughing fit, not my drunkness. If that's a word. Is it a word? I don't think it's a word. It should be a word, you know?)
"Give me another." I told him.
Mike looked like he was thinking for a little bit, and then took out another beverage. I smiled gratefully as I prepared to watch him pour the clear colored alcohol into a cup.
"So, what's got you so down anyway?" he asked, looking adorably concerned. Even though he was twenty-five years old, he still had this whole baby-face thing going on.
I looked down, my hair falling into my face. I smiled at his encouraging face. "Well you seeeeee," I slurred, "I was datin' Chaddy when we were kids. Reaaaaaaal young, you know? We were…we were…" 10...11...12...13…14...15...16...
"Seventeen! We were seventeen!" I announced. "And then, I found out he was only dating me for a bet! A bet that he could have sex with me! Like, who goes out with a girl for a year just for a bet?" I felt my hands flying all over the place with my words. "And then, get this: I bump into this guy Hayden, and he used to date my bff at the time. And he was like, 'Oh! Tell me what's wrong!' and I was like 'okay!' and then he was like 'You should pretend to be cheating on him with me to get him back!' and I was like 'okay!' you know? And then Chad got mad at me and he made me lose my job and I had to move out of Cali and to my home…but no one liked me there. Why didn't anyone like me there?" I asked him.
He gave me a mock-shocked expression that I didn't quite pick up on. "Who wouldn't like you?" he exclaimed.
"I know!" I screeched, slapping my hands down on the counter in front of me.
"And then," I continued, "My mom got sick. Like real sick. And I wanted to help her, I really really did but I couldn't do anything about it 'cuz I didn't have money! Because I lost my job! So I call my ex-bff…oh by the way, all of my old friends hate me because they thought it was my fault that our show got canceled. But anywhoooo…apparently she told Chad that I was having money problems, and he stalked me and found out where I lived and came to my house and told me he would give me the money I needed. That is, if I would be his maid."
"He didn't!" Mike gasped.
"He did!" I confirmed. "Boys are so mean and ridiculous and macho and lame! And they mess with girl's hearts! And they're icky and I hate them all and wish they would just die! You know?" I ranted.
"Yeah, I know what you mean." he agreed.
I squinted at him very carefully, just to make sure I wasn't so intoxicated that I misunderstood his/her/its gender. "I thought you are a guy?"
"I am," he said. "A gay one." he clarified.
"Ooooh." I cooed understandingly. "Anyway, back to me. Sooo now I'm here. And at first it was going bad, then worse, then better, then realllllly good! He was being really sweet to me! But now he thinks that I was doing some sexual favors," it came out like seshual fabors. "For Hayden! And I wasn't! And then he got all sad and mad. And that made me sad and mad. "
"Sounds to me like he's still into you," he said. "And I know you're drunk and everything, but I'm kinda getting the vibe that you're still into him, too."
I thought carefully over that statement. Am I still into him? After everything that happened? I mean yeah, back in Wisconsin, I was under the impression that I was still deeply in love with him, but after a few days here, I realized that maybe it really was just a crush, and I misunderstood my feelings, you know?
But when he was being all nice...I thought I felt something else.
"I don't know." I said honestly. "Oh! And before that," I launched back into our old topic, "Hayden said I was stalking him because he didn't wanna be seen with me now that I'm not famous and I work for Chad as a maid and I'm not…not…what's the word?"
"Successful?" he offered.
"Yeah! That! I'm not successful. I'm not anything. I don't know what I'm going to do when I go back to Wisconsin. I mean, duh, I'm gonna save my mom's life like some freaking super hero, but other than that, then what? You know? Do I keep working for my uncle as a waitress? Do I do anything?"
Mike stared off into space for a few moments, but then looked back at me. "I really don't know, Allison. But hey, if worse comes to worst, I'll help in any way I can." he smiled.
I like this guy. He's nice. I like nice guys.
"Thanks, Mikey." I giggled. "You're a real pal, you know? A real bud. A real…" I took another sip of my drink. "Hey, why does this vodka taste funny?" I asked.
He chuckled. "Because it's water." he winked.
"Hey!" I shouted. "That's not fair!"
He just laughed more. Psh, forget about me liking this guy. He's not nice at all. "You're a big fat meanie!" I accused, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Wow, I wonder what you're like when you're sober…" he wondered aloud. I was about to tell him that I'm a boring, self-destructive loser, but a fuzzy sounding voice broke my concentration.
"Hey, hottie, wanna dance?"
I whimpered as I forced myself to shift a little bit and see who the distorted sounding voice was coming from. I squinted my eyes at the blurry face, but I was only able to distinct a mop of brown hair dancing on the top of the deep voice's head.
I put my hands on the edge of the counter and pushed myself upwards so that my lips were hovering near Mike's ears. "Psst, Mikeypoo, I can't see what he looks like. Is he hot? Like, burnin' up?" I whispered.
"Not my type," Mike answered. "I don't like the pretty boy/bad boy look. But he also has this whole devious smirk thing, which is a turn on. But if I wasn't particular, I'd be all over that." he smiled.
"I'm burnin' up, burnin' up, for you baaaaaabay." I sang loudly into his ears, causing him to wince in pain. I giggled as I leaned back and held out my hand to the stranger. "Sure, sweetie pie honey cakes." the words all mushed together.
He took it, and led me to the dance floor. I threw my head back to take a last look at Mike; something telling me that I wasn't going to be seeing him again for a while. I gave a childish wave goodbye and blew a kiss with my free hand.
The next thing I knew, I was being grinded against in the middle of the room to the beat of a song with a techno sound. Funny how I was just mocking and pitying the people earlier who were doing this exact same "dance", if you could even call it that.
From what I could tell, I was getting as into it as the other people surrounding me and the other guy. My veins were pulsing with excitement, and I could just start to make out his face. I think he realized this, and slightly turned his head. Maybe he's shy or something. That's cute.
"Hey, wanna go somewhere more private?" he asked me seductively.
I giggled. "Sure, sweetie." I agreed. He took my hand and led me to an unknown room. For a split second, I thought of Chad and wondered if he would be even more disappointed in me for this. I was living up…or down, to his expectations of me.
And I hate myself for it.
All the more reason to go with this guy.
But really, what's the worst that could happen? We make out a little, and then we go back to dancing. Hey, maybe I finally met my soul mate.
In which case, I better find out how good of a kisser he is.