Sequel: Pretty Bird ›
People Got A Lotta Nerve
Paint's Peeling; Rilo Kiley
“You’re a proper bitch, you know that, Christian?!” Her voice was screeching in my ears, just like nails on a chalkboard.
The vodka was messing with my equilibrium, the only reason I was still on my two feet was because of Oliver’s grip on my hip, never faltering. It had felt like 10 years, but in reality, it was probably only a few seconds. Emma had walked in, alcohol sloshing out of her cup and onto the carpet and the bedspreads, her face right in mine, her rum tinged breath hot on my face.
“I did shit to you!” I yelled back, setting the blue bottle of vodka down on a nearby table, my posture suddenly changing from fearful and timid to assertive. I guess they call alcohol ‘liquid courage’ for a reason.
“You fucking ruined my life for years! Years and years I wasted my time on you, trying to get you to have a fucking life, to be normal, and what did you do for me, bitch? You’re right, you did shit!”
“Yeah? You sold me out to the first guy to come your way who didn’t have a police record and had money in his pocket! Whose the user here?!” My words were slurred and full of hate, yet my voice had not reached maximum volume yet. I may appear harmless, but I could scream.
“Jamie loves me, but you wouldn’t fucking know, would you? You were too busy with your own shit to even pay attention to me!”
“Okay Emma, play the victim, you drunk slut.” I grabbed my Hypnotiq again, and turned away from her, facing Oliver. Oliver was silent, just staring wide eyed at me, clearly inebriated and on the brink of being incoherent. I took a huge drink of the vodka, letting the alcohol slip down my throat like a professional, and slipped my free hand into the pocket of Oliver’s jeans, my balance still wobbly, at best. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, slut?” I smirked at her, cocking my head slightly.
Before I could even register what was happening, I felt sharp, long nails digging into my shoulders and my light grip on Oliver quickly disappear, his fingers loosening from my side instantly. My balance was shot, and before I knew it, I had crashed back into the table, the corner painfully digging into my back. Emma stood over me, the alcohol still sloshing around, this time right over me. “Fucking bitch!” She screamed again, like a banshee, before dropping to her knees, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
She had straddled me, pouring her alcohol on my shirt, her nails drawing blood. Due to my drunken state, it took me a second to realize what exactly was happening, before I instantly dropped the bottle and let it roll a few inches away from my hand. I instantly pushed her back, my own nails digging into her shoulders, her face grimacing in between her screams. An open handed slap found its way onto my face, my skin burning hot before I returned the favor, my hand curling up into a fist before striking her right in the lip. The blood soon began to mix with her bright red lipstick, dribbling down her chin slowly. She brought her hand up to her lip, and I took the opportunity to hit her again, this time missing and hitting her right in the jawbone, my finger cracking at the knuckle. She still had me straddled though, her hands smacking my face, her punches missing my nose and lips though, keeping me striking her back twice as hard.
In a stroke of genius, my hand reached out, and gripped the bottle of vodka I had conveniently dropped there earlier. With one swing, I brought the glass bottle into her face with all the strength I had, the alcohol and the glass flying everywhere as it struck her in the cheek.
She instantly rolled back off of me, the glass cutting up the entire side of her face, her screams dying, silence filling the room. I sat up, my hand full of glass just as her face was.
“Don’t you ever touch me again, you fucking bitch.” I spat, brushing the glass off of my hands as I stood up, leaning on the table for balance. Matt was only a few feet away, mouth agape as his vodka and coke sat untouched in his hand. I grabbed it from him, and downed it in one try, before setting back on the table. “Go cry to your fucking husband, bitch, or did you come here alone?!”
Tears came out of Emma’s eyes, as she stared up at me, the blood now dripping down her face, reaching her neck and shoulder. All of a sudden, Jamie rushed in, cradling Emma in his arms as glass crunched under his vans.
The scene was completely silent, Oliver’s eyes still wide, his stare fixed on me, as I stood there, a triumphant smile plastered onto my face. As Jamie got Emma to her feet and led her out of the room quietly, I walked into the hotel room bathroom, washing the blood off of my face and the glass out of my hands. The adrenaline pumping in my veins still preventing the pain from setting in just yet.
---
My eyes were closed when the handle to the bathroom door jiggled, and clicked open; I was splashing water on my face, bent over the sink. I only realized it was Oliver when I managed to look up and dry my eyes, our eyes locking together as he sat on the edge of the bath tub.
I honestly didn’t know what to say, or what he was feeling, so I just looked away, and splashed water on my face again; the water running in the drain was pink from blood.
“That wasn’t cool, Christian…” He finally whispered, his voice barely audible over the water faucet. “She was your friend.”
“Do your friends say that shit to you?” I asked, the mood in the room instantly sobering both of us up.
He sighed, and got up from his seat on the tub, turning me around from the faucet. “Some of these need more than water.”
I shook my head. “They don’t hurt.”
His hands reached up to my face, his thumb running lightly over one of my cuts. “That one is bad.”
I shook my head, this time with more resolve, and wiggled out of his reach. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
“Do you want me to take you home?” He was looking at me from sad eyes, his hands stuffed in his pockets, clearly feeling the sting from me rejecting his touch.
I nodded, drying my hands and face with a towel, before flattening out my skirt and turning back to him.
He opened the door, and motioned with his eyes for me to exit, as he shut the door behind me. Outside, The Matts, Curtis and Lee were all sitting on one of the beds, the mood somber and no longer happy, like it had been earlier. I noticed the glass had been picked up off the floor; the only evidence of a fight happening was a huge puddle of vodka and a few drops of blood on the hotel carpet. I couldn’t make eye contact with them, just shuffled out of the door and into the hallway. Once Oliver and I exited out through the lobby, he removed his hoodie, and placed it on my shoulders. I instantly put my arms through it and put the hood up, trying to shield myself from the world.
---
The morning after that fight, the sun did wake me up, not Oliver. In fact, the bed was empty, except for my body tangled in the sheets, a pillow thrown on the floor. My hangover was manageable, and not needing any aspirin, so I just got out of bed, anticipating Oliver waiting for me in the living room or even the kitchen. My hopes were dashed though, when I walked into empty rooms, my house feeling empty and void of life all over again. Leaning against the door frame, I slid down it, my head in my hands. Here I was, a crumpled pathetic heap all over again, thanks to Emma….and thanks to myself. My phone had no new messages or calls on it; for all I knew, the boys could have left San Diego that morning, or even the night before.
I had ruined everything.
---
It was noon when I woke up, and now it was 3, with no sign of Oliver, or anyone. I had managed to pick myself off the floor, and throw myself on the couch again, the memories of Oliver pinning me into the cracked leather flooding my mind, no matter how hard I protested. I was full on wallowing in self pity, when my phone finally did ring. However, it wasn’t quite who I expected.
“Hello?” I groaned into the phone, a pillow covering my face.
“Hey there, Sparrow.”
“….Blake!?” I instantly shot up from the laying position, the pillow flying onto the floor. “How did you get my number?! Did I give it to you?!”
“It’s posted on your facebook…” He laughed; I could feel the ease in his voice. “The wonders of modern technologies these days.”
“Oh….” I breathed in the phone, exasperated. “What’s up?!”
“Well, the bookstore closed down. I am currently unemployed, and have no reason to be in Vegas anymore.”
“Damn….Well, have you ever thought about San Diego?” I smiled, Oliver’s words echoing in my head over and over:
“Everything is going to be alright, Christian…You just need a new roommate. Can’t be hard to find, right?”
The vodka was messing with my equilibrium, the only reason I was still on my two feet was because of Oliver’s grip on my hip, never faltering. It had felt like 10 years, but in reality, it was probably only a few seconds. Emma had walked in, alcohol sloshing out of her cup and onto the carpet and the bedspreads, her face right in mine, her rum tinged breath hot on my face.
“I did shit to you!” I yelled back, setting the blue bottle of vodka down on a nearby table, my posture suddenly changing from fearful and timid to assertive. I guess they call alcohol ‘liquid courage’ for a reason.
“You fucking ruined my life for years! Years and years I wasted my time on you, trying to get you to have a fucking life, to be normal, and what did you do for me, bitch? You’re right, you did shit!”
“Yeah? You sold me out to the first guy to come your way who didn’t have a police record and had money in his pocket! Whose the user here?!” My words were slurred and full of hate, yet my voice had not reached maximum volume yet. I may appear harmless, but I could scream.
“Jamie loves me, but you wouldn’t fucking know, would you? You were too busy with your own shit to even pay attention to me!”
“Okay Emma, play the victim, you drunk slut.” I grabbed my Hypnotiq again, and turned away from her, facing Oliver. Oliver was silent, just staring wide eyed at me, clearly inebriated and on the brink of being incoherent. I took a huge drink of the vodka, letting the alcohol slip down my throat like a professional, and slipped my free hand into the pocket of Oliver’s jeans, my balance still wobbly, at best. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, slut?” I smirked at her, cocking my head slightly.
Before I could even register what was happening, I felt sharp, long nails digging into my shoulders and my light grip on Oliver quickly disappear, his fingers loosening from my side instantly. My balance was shot, and before I knew it, I had crashed back into the table, the corner painfully digging into my back. Emma stood over me, the alcohol still sloshing around, this time right over me. “Fucking bitch!” She screamed again, like a banshee, before dropping to her knees, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
She had straddled me, pouring her alcohol on my shirt, her nails drawing blood. Due to my drunken state, it took me a second to realize what exactly was happening, before I instantly dropped the bottle and let it roll a few inches away from my hand. I instantly pushed her back, my own nails digging into her shoulders, her face grimacing in between her screams. An open handed slap found its way onto my face, my skin burning hot before I returned the favor, my hand curling up into a fist before striking her right in the lip. The blood soon began to mix with her bright red lipstick, dribbling down her chin slowly. She brought her hand up to her lip, and I took the opportunity to hit her again, this time missing and hitting her right in the jawbone, my finger cracking at the knuckle. She still had me straddled though, her hands smacking my face, her punches missing my nose and lips though, keeping me striking her back twice as hard.
In a stroke of genius, my hand reached out, and gripped the bottle of vodka I had conveniently dropped there earlier. With one swing, I brought the glass bottle into her face with all the strength I had, the alcohol and the glass flying everywhere as it struck her in the cheek.
She instantly rolled back off of me, the glass cutting up the entire side of her face, her screams dying, silence filling the room. I sat up, my hand full of glass just as her face was.
“Don’t you ever touch me again, you fucking bitch.” I spat, brushing the glass off of my hands as I stood up, leaning on the table for balance. Matt was only a few feet away, mouth agape as his vodka and coke sat untouched in his hand. I grabbed it from him, and downed it in one try, before setting back on the table. “Go cry to your fucking husband, bitch, or did you come here alone?!”
Tears came out of Emma’s eyes, as she stared up at me, the blood now dripping down her face, reaching her neck and shoulder. All of a sudden, Jamie rushed in, cradling Emma in his arms as glass crunched under his vans.
The scene was completely silent, Oliver’s eyes still wide, his stare fixed on me, as I stood there, a triumphant smile plastered onto my face. As Jamie got Emma to her feet and led her out of the room quietly, I walked into the hotel room bathroom, washing the blood off of my face and the glass out of my hands. The adrenaline pumping in my veins still preventing the pain from setting in just yet.
---
My eyes were closed when the handle to the bathroom door jiggled, and clicked open; I was splashing water on my face, bent over the sink. I only realized it was Oliver when I managed to look up and dry my eyes, our eyes locking together as he sat on the edge of the bath tub.
I honestly didn’t know what to say, or what he was feeling, so I just looked away, and splashed water on my face again; the water running in the drain was pink from blood.
“That wasn’t cool, Christian…” He finally whispered, his voice barely audible over the water faucet. “She was your friend.”
“Do your friends say that shit to you?” I asked, the mood in the room instantly sobering both of us up.
He sighed, and got up from his seat on the tub, turning me around from the faucet. “Some of these need more than water.”
I shook my head. “They don’t hurt.”
His hands reached up to my face, his thumb running lightly over one of my cuts. “That one is bad.”
I shook my head, this time with more resolve, and wiggled out of his reach. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
“Do you want me to take you home?” He was looking at me from sad eyes, his hands stuffed in his pockets, clearly feeling the sting from me rejecting his touch.
I nodded, drying my hands and face with a towel, before flattening out my skirt and turning back to him.
He opened the door, and motioned with his eyes for me to exit, as he shut the door behind me. Outside, The Matts, Curtis and Lee were all sitting on one of the beds, the mood somber and no longer happy, like it had been earlier. I noticed the glass had been picked up off the floor; the only evidence of a fight happening was a huge puddle of vodka and a few drops of blood on the hotel carpet. I couldn’t make eye contact with them, just shuffled out of the door and into the hallway. Once Oliver and I exited out through the lobby, he removed his hoodie, and placed it on my shoulders. I instantly put my arms through it and put the hood up, trying to shield myself from the world.
---
The morning after that fight, the sun did wake me up, not Oliver. In fact, the bed was empty, except for my body tangled in the sheets, a pillow thrown on the floor. My hangover was manageable, and not needing any aspirin, so I just got out of bed, anticipating Oliver waiting for me in the living room or even the kitchen. My hopes were dashed though, when I walked into empty rooms, my house feeling empty and void of life all over again. Leaning against the door frame, I slid down it, my head in my hands. Here I was, a crumpled pathetic heap all over again, thanks to Emma….and thanks to myself. My phone had no new messages or calls on it; for all I knew, the boys could have left San Diego that morning, or even the night before.
I had ruined everything.
---
It was noon when I woke up, and now it was 3, with no sign of Oliver, or anyone. I had managed to pick myself off the floor, and throw myself on the couch again, the memories of Oliver pinning me into the cracked leather flooding my mind, no matter how hard I protested. I was full on wallowing in self pity, when my phone finally did ring. However, it wasn’t quite who I expected.
“Hello?” I groaned into the phone, a pillow covering my face.
“Hey there, Sparrow.”
“….Blake!?” I instantly shot up from the laying position, the pillow flying onto the floor. “How did you get my number?! Did I give it to you?!”
“It’s posted on your facebook…” He laughed; I could feel the ease in his voice. “The wonders of modern technologies these days.”
“Oh….” I breathed in the phone, exasperated. “What’s up?!”
“Well, the bookstore closed down. I am currently unemployed, and have no reason to be in Vegas anymore.”
“Damn….Well, have you ever thought about San Diego?” I smiled, Oliver’s words echoing in my head over and over:
“Everything is going to be alright, Christian…You just need a new roommate. Can’t be hard to find, right?”
♠ ♠ ♠
---probably really shitty.
Sorry. haha D: