LISA

James's voice rings in my ear, and his bare foot is rubbing against my cheek. "Dude! Get up. Carla's almost here, and you're hogging the only bathroom."

"Fuck off," I groan, closing my eyes again. If I could move, what I would do is break his toes.

"Manoban, get the fuck up. You can crash on the couch, but you're a fucking giant and I need to piss and at least attempt to brush my teeth."

His toes press against my forehead, and I attempt to sit up. My body feels like a fucking bag of bricks, and my eyes and throat burn.

"She's alive!" James calls.

"Shut the fuck up." I cover my ears and walk past him into the living room. Empty beer bottles and red cups are being tossed into trash bags by a half-naked Janine and an overenthusiastic Mark.

"So, how was the bathroom floor?" Mark lilts through the cigarette between his lips.

"It was ace." I roll my eyes and sit down on the couch.

"You were fucking wrecked," he says quite proudly. 'When was the last time you drank like that?"

"I don't know." I rub my temples, and Janine hands me a cup. I shake my head, but she pushes it closer.

"It's only water."

"I'm fine." I don't mean to be a dick to her, but, fuck, she's annoying.

"You were so fucked-up," Mark says. "I thought that chick . . . what was her name, Jenna?" My heart pounds in my chest at the mention of her

name, even if he got it wrong. "I thought she was going to tear the place down! She was a feisty little thing."

Images of Jennie screaming at me, throwing a bottle against the wall, and walking away from me flood my memory. The weight of the pain in her eyes presses me farther into the couch, and I feel like I'm going to get sick again.

It's for the best.

It is.

Janine rolls her eyes. "Little? I wouldn't say she was little."

"I know you're not insulting her looks," I say coolly, despite the burning urge to throw the cup of water in Janine's face. If Janine thinks she's anywhere near as beautiful as Jennie, she's been snorting more cocaine than I thought.

"She's not as skinny as me."

One more bitchy comment, Janine, and I'll tear your self-confidence to shreds.

"Sis, no offense, but that chick was way hotter than you. That's probably why Lisa is so in loo-ove." Mark draws out the last word.

"In love? Please! She kicked her ass out of here last night." Janine laughs, and the knife twists in my stomach.

"I'm not—" I can't even finish the sentence with a steady voice. "Don't bring her up again. I'm not fucking around," I threaten the pair.

Janine mumbles something under her breath, and Mark chuckles while emptying an ashtray into a trash bag. I lay my head against the cushion behind my back and close my eyes. I'm not going to be able to be sober, ever. Not if I want this pain to go away; not if I have to sit here with a hollowed-out fucking chest.

I feel antsy and impatient, nauseated and exhausted, and it's the worst fucking combination.

"She will be here in twenty minutes!" James says. I open my eyes and find him dressed and walking in circles in the small living room.

"We know. Shut up, already. We go through this once a month." Janine lights a joint, and I reach for it the moment she exhales.

I have to self-medicate; there is no other option for a coward like me, hovering in a corner and hiding from the throbbing ache of having my entire life ripped away from me.

I cough on the first hit. My lungs haven't missed the dry burn from forcing too much pot on them. After the third hit, the ache dims, the numbness taking over. Not completely the way it should, but I'm getting there. I'll be back in form.

"Give me that, too." I reach for the bottle in Janine's hand.

"It's not even noon," she says, screwing the lid on.

"I didn't ask you for the time and temperature. I asked for the vodka." I rip it from her hands, and she huffs in annoyance.

"So you dropped out of uni, then?" Mark asks, blowing circles with the smoke leaving his mouth.

"No . . ." Shit. "I don't know. I haven't gotten that far yet." I take a swig of the liquor, welcoming the burn as it travels down into my empty body. I have no fucking idea what I'll do about school. I only have half a semester left until I graduate. I've already turned in the graduation paperwork and opted out of the damn ceremony. I also have an apartment with all my shit in it and a car parked at the Airport.

"Janine, go make sure the sink is empty of dishes," Mark says.

"No, I always get stuck doing your fucking dishes—"

"I'll buy your lunch. I know you're broke," he says, which works, and she leaves us alone in the living room. I can hear James shuffling around in his bedroom; it sounds like he's redecorating the place.

"What's with this Carla chick?" I ask Mark.

"She's James's girlfriend. She's real cool, actually, but she's a bit of a snob. Not like bitchy or anything, she's just not into all this shit." Mark waves his hands around the dingy apartment. "She's in med school and her parents have money and shit."

I laugh. "Then what the hell is wrong with her that she's with James?"

"I can hear you, cunts!" James yells from his bedroom.

Mark's laughing now, much harder than I am. "I don't know, but he's fucking pussy-whipped and panics every time she comes to visit. She lives in Scotland, so it's only like once a month, but this is how it always is. He's always trying to impress her. That's why he enrolled in uni, even if he already failed two classes."

"And that's why he fucks your sister all the time?" I raise a brow. James was never a one-woman man, that's for damn sure.

James pops his head around the corner to defend himself. "I only see Carla once a month, and I haven't fucked Janine in weeks!" He disappears again. "Now stop talking shit before I kick both your asses out!"

"Fine! Go shave your balls or something," Mark taunts him, and passes the joint to me. He taps the label on the vodka bottle resting between my legs. "Look, Manoban, I'm not into all this relationship-drama bullshit, but you're not fooling anybody here with this whole act."

"It's not an act," I snap.

"Sure, sure. All I'm getting at is that you show up here in Thailand after being gone for three years, not to mention that chick you brought with you." His eyes move from my face to the bottle, to the joint. "And you're bingeing. Plus, I think your hand is broken."

"It's none of your business. Since when do you give a fuck about bingeing? You do it every day." I'm growing more and more annoyed with Mark and his sudden need to pry into my fucking life. I ignore his comment about my hand, which admittedly is turning purple and green.

But that shitty drywall couldn't have broken my hand.

"Don't be a dick; you can indulge all you want. I don't remember you being this sensitive; you were fucking ruthless before."

"I'm not sensitive; you're just making something out of nothing. That chick is some random girl from my college in America. I met her and fucked her. She wanted to see Thailand, so she paid our way here, and I fucked her again in the queen's realm. End of story." I take another drink of vodka to drown the bullshit I'm spewing.

Mark still doesn't look convinced. "Sure." He rolls his eyes—a pesky habit he picked up from his sister.

Annoyed, I turn and face him, but even before I speak, I feel bile rising in my throat. "Look, when I met her, she was a virgin, and I fucked her to win a bet worth a good chunk of fucking change, so, no, I'm not sensitive. She's no one to me—"

This time I can't swallow it down. I cover my mouth and dash past James, who ends up cussing me out for puking all over the bathroom floor.