Sitting Duck

The tip of my tongue touches the top of my beer bottle , as my eyes are cast outside the car window. The air is strained, as I know I'm not supposed to be here, I'm not supposed to intrude. Glen is darting his eyes back and forth between me and the road, as if unsure if bringing me along to this party was that clever after all. The taste of beer is making me want to cringe, but I manage to stay stoic, forcing my attention on the passing cars.

Spencer is in the backseat, along with Brendan. Needless to day, she was drunk before she even left the house, and she sure isn't wasting any time in 'trying him out'. They barely exchanged a word before they were all over each other. The sounds from the backseat is thankfully muted as Glen is listening to some hip-hop song at full volume.

I feel sorry for him, he's not supposed to see what is happening between his sister and his teammate, he's not supposed to hear his sister moan some random guy's name, he's not supposed to have to even imagine the scenario happening in the backseat.

Still, he doesn't say anything, doesn't do anything. He lets her get away with it, and I can't help but feel he's letting her down. He's not defending her, not telling her off, not stopping her destructive ways of living.

I can't help but think he's not being the brother she deserves.

Spencer and Brendan is gone, along with Glen.

I look around the room, it's filled with so many people, still I feel like I have no one to talk to. I don't know anyone here, and sadly, I don't feel like getting to know any of them either.

I know I'm stereotyping when calling all of the participants in this party losers, along with being a hypocrite, but I've never been a fan of drunk people. I don't know if it's their wild behavior, their drunken slurring, or the fact that I've just never been wasted before that makes me despise them, but I have a feeling tonight will help me find out. Because I'm heading in the same direction as everyone else; the drunken state of mind.

Someone bumps into me, and I spill my beer over my pants, making sure I will reek of beer when I get home to the Carlin's tonight. The girl doesn't even apologize, as she stumbles further into the room, throwing herself at a random jock who happily gropes her back. That's the fourth guy she's been necking with, and it's barely past 10pm. I look behind me to see if Glen is somewhere around, but I can't seem to locate him. At least I thought he would make this night better, but he's nowhere to be found.

5th beer residing on my pants, I make my way to the kegger, hoping to find something a bit more tasteful, a bit more strong, 'cause I know being sober at this party is the last thing I wanna be. The drink being shoved into my hand by a short Puerto Rican guy is looking mighty suspicious when there's a pill innocently laying in the bottom of the plastic cup, and I carefully slip the drink into the soil of a plant nearby. Maybe I'm not used to the party scene, but I sure as hell ain't stupid.

Having wandered the house for the last hour, I'm starting to know my way around, and I faintly remember something along the lines of a liquor cabinet down the hall.

God.

I am soooo dizzy.

It's like it's boiling up there, in my head, I guess that last sip wasn't needed after all.

It still burns down my throat, as I make my way into the kitchen, pushing a guy out of my way as I desperately get myself a glass of water. And this people intentionally get themselves into?

Someone's talking to me, and I'm somehow talking back. It's not my head though, talking, it's just my mouth spouting out meaningless and stupid stuff, but I can't seem to stop it. My hair is sticking to my forehead, I'm hot as hell, and my previously perfect hair is just a mess.

Have I been dancing? I think I have.

There's more people milling around me, and everyone's looking at
me. Why are they looking at me? Oh, I'm talking, that's right. What am I talking about? Something about Glen's incident with the-.. Oh no, I'm talking about Glen's incident with the curling iron!

Some guy is touching my side, but the only evidence of it is me seeing it, I can't feel its touch. People are talking again, and I have no idea about what, until I hear the infamous name uttered from a tall, blond girl.

"...Spencer's new sister, aren't you?"

I know I'm answering yes, but the words following are blurry, I hope
it's nothing bad being told from my lips, I would never intentionally
say anything bad about Spencer. So she's a bitch, I can't blame her, she's not the one intruding my family, I'm the one messing up hers. Oh no, I'm not saying this aloud, am I?

An arm gently tugging at my upper arm is starting to increase it's force, and I at last give my attention to the owner of the arm. Glen. Aaaw, Glen, I haven't seen him in ages! I love Glen! Glen is the best brother in the whole wide world! Why is he tugging so hard? I don't want him to touch me, don't touch me Glen, I can touch myself! Huh? I'm suddenly giggling, and someone's arms are around me, leading me into the hallway. Something blue is in front of me, and the eyes owning the blueness is looking at me with concern.

"Ashley, how much have you been drinking?"

I haven't been drinking! ...Maybe a weeee bit? Tiny weeny weeee bit? Thiiis little! Glen, your eyes are so blue, why are they so blue? Mine are brown, but I like your blue ones better, can I borrow them? 'Cause then they will match Spencer's ones, and Spencer's ones are gorgeous! What's with the harsh look Glen is giving me, what have I done?

"Ash, please, just... Just please stop drinking, okey?"

What the hell happened, why am I cold? I touch my head, and it's wet. Wet! Why is it wet! I look up to my side, and see some girl laughing hysterically, she did this, she made me wet! And cold! She's so not getting away with this, I stand up and give her the best glare known to man, before an arm is suddenly ripping at her hair, hmm, wonder who's arm that is? Muaha, it's so mine, she's so getting her own medicine!

Someone is pushing my face in front of theirs, who is this person, I don't wanna face anyone! Oh, it's Glen, why is he so close to me, why is he holding me so hard?

"ASHLEY! You need to stop now, or I'll drive you home in this state, and mom and dad are gonna kill you!"

There's no hair in my hand anymore, the loose strands have been tossed to the ground, and my cheeks have gotten wet. My eyes sting, Glen's mad at me! I don't want Glen to be mad at me, I'm a bad sister, he's not gonna want me anymore...! He's gonna stop caring about me like he's stopped caring about his real sister!

He's not touching me anymore, not holding me up. Instead, his face is filled with disappointment, sadness, and it's making my head clear up a little. Why is Glen so sad? I search my memory, and can't think of anyth-... Oh no, I did NOT say that out loud! Please say I didn't tell him he doesn't care about his sister, please please please!

"Let's just get you to the bathroom upstairs, no one really knows it's there, so you'll get time to clean up, okey?"

I'm being helped up the stairs, and when I'm sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Glen gently closes the door, and I'm suddenly left with just myself.

The bathroom is so warm and nice, and I can't help but feel drowsy, as I lean slowly backwards-... OUCH! I hit my head in the bathtub, stupid bathtub! Hmmm, it sure is comfortable though..

There's someone opening the door, I'm half dead in the tub, but I still hear it opening as the sounds from outside invades the bathroom. I'm not as drunk anymore, I must've slept some of it off, thank God for that, the few glimpses I remember is enough to make me wanna die.

I slowly open my eyes, adjusting to the lightness of the room, before I make out the figure in front of the door.

Oh no.

I hurriedly try to stand up, knocking down various shampoo bottles as I step out of the tub and clutch at side of the wall. I still haven't averted my gaze, as this is the first time in a week that she's looking into my eyes.

Her body looks tired, lifeless, where she's slumped against the door, but her eyes is speaking something entirely different. They're intense, boring into me, much like the last time I encountered her in a drunken state. While I just one day prior would've done anything to make her took at me, I now regret it. Because I still can't read her. Her eyes doesn't give me the slightest clue as to what she's feeling, what she's thinking. They're blocking my attempt to read them, while still reading my eyes perfectly. She can see the worry, the fear, emanating from within me, and I get this eerie feeling that she's storing it, reading my thoughts just to use them against me.

She's no longer against the door, as she's shuffling closer to me, stopping right in front of me. My arms hang lifelessly down my sides, and however much I want to hold them up to protect me, I can't. I'm paralyzed by her stare, and she's loving it.

A hand is being pressed against the wall on one side of my face.

Another hand is being pressed against the wall on the other side of my face.

I'm caught. Unable to move. Unable to escape.

I'm trembling, literally shaking, as sweat is threatening to appear on my forehead from the intensity of her stare.

She suddenly swiftly moves her body closer to me, and as a reflex, my arms move in front of me, protecting me from the blow I'm awaiting.

She chuckles low in her throat, a small smirk appearing on her lips, and she's so close to me that I can't see both her eyes and lips at the same time.

She doesn't seem to like that I broke her stare.

Before I've got time to comprehend what's happening, she's got my wrists in a grip against the wall, and a leg pressed between my own. She's got me securely locked.

And not just literally.

Why is she doing this? What's happening? Oh God, I can feel her breath on my ear, she's brought her head so close to me that we're practically cheek to cheek, and my breathing quickens.

"How does it feel to have someone so close to you, huh? Have someone invading your personal space without your consent, trapping you in a compromising position? It's not so funny now, is it?"

She roughly releases her grip on me, and the lips almost touching my ear have been removed as far away from me as possible, as Spencer walks backwards toward the door.

"Your little joke on me a week ago doesn't seem so clever anymore, does it? Just don't think you'll ever get away with doing something like that again, are we clear?"

She's by the door now, grabbing at the door handle, not yet opening the door.

The menace in her voice, the ice cold glare directed my way, her previous mind-trick, it all is too much for me, as I slowly sink down the wall. I can't help but let out a small whimper, a sad, frightened whimper, and as I chance one final look at her, I finally see something.

Something I've been searching for.

Something I never thought I would ever see in this moment, after what she just made me go through.

An opening.

The door inside her eyes is momentarily unlocked, and although I can only see through the keyhole, I still see something.

Something unmistakably resembling regret.