How Samantha Deewas met MCR and Became Their Little Sister

Lights.

Women.

Jumping.

Water.

Booze.

Nothing.

I suddenly woke up, eyes still closed,sunlight shining through an unknown window onto my eyelids, my mind swirling sluggishly with what happened last night, very aware of the pounding in my head, announcing the arrival of a massive hangover. Last night was confusing.

I relaxed on my back, shutting my eyes once more, trying to quell the drumbeats in my head. The blankets were really good quality.

I was wearing no clothes.

I patted myself down quickly and desperately. Nope, not a thing, except for...

I took it out from beneath the blankets, and dreaded what I saw. Guess what it was.
a) Ray Toro’s afro
b) Bob Bryar’s lip ring
c) A used condom

“Oh My God.” I muttered to myself. I dragged myself up, bare buttocks sliding across the cotton sheets, and stuffed it beneath the mattress, before looking around for the person who I ‘did’ it with.

The person next to me had the sheets covering his/her legs, but chest-wise, it was definitely a woman. Young, smooth. Rough love-bites everywhere.

A pillow covered her face, but she had long black hair. Familar hair.

Please, let it be one of the sexy Asian beauties, please, Frank with hair extensions. Hell, even Brian with hair extensions. Please, anyone or thing. Just not who I thought it was.

But as corny as this sounds, in my heart I knew it was her

I lifted the fluffy pillow with one pale trembling hand.

High cheekbones, smooth pale skin, closed eyes, pretty nose, ruffled hair. A smile on her face.

Samantha.

I quite literally leapt out of the bed, before my right foot caught on the sheet, and I fell backwards off.

I awkwardly landed on my back, wincing as the wooden floor jarred a sensitive bone. I desperately slid my hands around the timber, searching for any piece of clothing or shelter for my modesty. A few more contraceptives littered the floor.

Air rushed through Samantha’s nose, as she breathed in dusty bedroom air, and started to whir back into life.

If she was like me, then she would be up and running in about 2 minutes.

I stood up, still nude, and stumbled slightly as the headache I had earned from too much drink flared briefly from the sudden movement.

Red flashed across my eyes, and I reached out to grip a nearby object.

A chair that was covered in some sort of fabric, which I quickly checked and discovered they were clothes.

I randomly pulled out a pair of pants and a shirt which I couldn’t even bother to check if they were for female or male.

I soon found out, they were both female. I winced when I trudged towards the door and the tight crotch dug into my unprotected bits. Female denim jeans were not the way to go.

I slowly looked back with bloodshot eyes at the sleeping...girl who was now blinking the sleep out of her eyes, and trying to identify the figure at the door.

As I opened the wooden and glass door, and stepped through, I heard a weary voice ring out tiredly out behind me. From the bed.

“Ge...Gerard? Why are yo-“ She broke off in a loud yawn, then continued. I needed to go now, seriously, but was dangerously curious for what she wanted to say.

“Why are you wearing my –yawn!- pants?”

I hurriedly shut the door behind me, and quite literally ran away.

I was trying to argue with myself as I tried to navigate my way out of the house which I finally realised was Green Days’.

-Gerard, she’ll never know. Don’t mention it to her My conscience whispered to me.

My heart beat in my ears as my feet mercilessly pounded the wooden floor. I frantically beat down the massive ache in my head, and spotted a door which led to outside.

I was running away from the physical evidence of my sins, I was running away from Samantha’s loathing gaze.

But mostly, I was running away from myself. My true desires, and who I really wanted to love.

*~~~~~~*

I emerged into a familiar grassy yard, with all the glass bottles thrown away. I collapsed onto the floor, ready to kill for an aspirin.

“And look at Gerard’s face. He was totally stoned. Samantha looks like she’s having fun.” Ray pointed at the video camera Billie was playing through with a drunken pinkie, and giggled. A little bit manically. His eyes were barely opened, and he looked terrible

Everyone else had passed out on the lawn, except for a missing Frank. Judging from his lack of girlfriend, he'd probably taken the prostitutes Brian had hired.

Bob was calmly perched on the edge of a wooden deckchair, baby-blue eyes cold and disapproving. I think he was the only one of us who wasn't drunk half to death. He threw me a bottle of white pills, and I gratefully dry-swallowed 3.

Thank god for aspirin.

I staggered over to Ray and Billie's little laughing fest. Billie handed me the camera, and I rewinded the captured footage.

I pressed PLAY