Bite Your Tongue

1:02 P.M.
Brian;;

“Briiiaan!” Zoe’s whiny voice called from the living room. “Is the food ready yet?”

Shut the fuck up, you psycho bitch.

“Almost!” I replied with false cheeriness.

“Well, hurry up! I’m starving!”

With a miserable sigh, I bent to check on the roasted vegetable pizza in the oven. It had been the only thing in the house that looked remotely edible to me, and since Zoe refused to leave the house—even if it was only to go to Taco Bell or something and didn’t require her to get out of the car—because she ‘felt fat’, it was what we were stuck having for lunch.

She’d asked me to come over after I’d accidentally admitted to not having any plans for today, a mistake I was still mentally kicking myself for. I much rather would have gone and spent the day at Zacky’s with the rest of the guys, playing video games or something, but no, I had to be responsible and entertain the girl carrying my child. I wanted to tell her to fuck off and die, that she could take her crazy self and go raise the kid on her own. But no matter how much I hated her, the thing growing inside her was still half mine, and it didn’t deserve the torture she was sure to subject it to if left on her own. I would not let her madness touch and ruin another part of my life. And preventing that meant another five months of ass-kissing.

Sometimes life just sucked.

As I waited for the pizza to finish cooking, I set about fixing drinks for myself and Zoe. I grabbed a Coke for myself and a bottled water for Zoe, fantasizing about spiking her bottled water with poison. Was there a poison that would harm her and not the baby? Did such a blessed substance exist?

“Brian! Christ, does it really take this long to make pizza?!”

I took a deep breath, forcing myself not to scream something incredibly unpleasant at her. The oven timer dinged a second later.

“About damn time,” I muttered. I removed the pizza from the oven, tossed it onto a plate, and fanned it with a potholder, willing it to cool off faster. Zoe, thankfully, was silent for several minutes after that. I assumed that she had heard the oven timer and no longer found it necessary to nag at me. And when I emerged from the kitchen, with drinks and sliced pizza in hand, the last thing I expected was to see her crying.

She was perched on the edge of the couch, staring straight ahead as tears gushed from her eyes. A part of me—a very small part; the part that cared for the cool person she once was—wanted to run over and hug her. But another, much larger part wanted to laugh, to jump up and down, pointing and mocking. I could do neither, though, so I settled for somewhere in the middle.

“Um…”

She turned toward me, and it was then that I realized she had my phone held against her ear. A flash of anger spiked through my body. What the hell was she doing with my phone? Was she spying on me? If she had lowered herself to that level of insanity, she could cry herself a river and drown in it, for all I cared.

“Zoe?”

She sniffled and tossed the phone onto the couch next to her before burying her face in her hands and bursting into noisy sobs. Rolling my eyes, I walked over and set the pizza down. Then I took a seat next to her.

“Is something wrong? Is it…you know, the whole hormonal pregnant woman thing?”

Zoe gave me a dirty look. “No. Of course not….well, maybe it was partly that, but that’s not the point! You had a new voicemail, so I thought it’d be nice and check it for you in case it had something to do with the band, but…” She paused, wiping her eyes. “It’s so mean.”

That didn’t make any sense. Why would she be crying if someone left me a mean voicemail?

“Uh, okay. Who was it from?”

She shoved the phone into my hand. “See for yourself.”

Confused, I did as she’d suggested and accessed my voicemail. The computerized voice told me that I had one new message. As it began to play, Zoe fixed me with a sharp look, her eyes still teary. She seemed to be closely monitoring my reaction. All thoughts of why flew out the window, however, as I heard the voice on the message.

“Hey, Brian!” Korinne’s enthusiastic voice said. There was a pause as she hiccuped and giggled, and when she started speaking again, her words were slurred. “How’s life? Well, life’s great for me…London’s cool…Stevie’s her usual cheerful self…oh, and did I mention that your girlfriend’s a bitch?”

My jaw dropped slightly. Was she drunk?!

Korinne’s uninhibited laughter over the next few seconds answered my question.

“Yep, she’s a bitch. Stupid, whore-y skank skankity slut bitch…” She broke off into another fit of giggling. “She’s such a slut that I bet the baby’s not even yours. Also, she’s going to be a sucky mom. Sluts make sucky moms. Even if she wasn’t a slut she’d make a sucky mom. She’s just gross. She’ll probably fuck up the baby somehow and end up miscarrying or something…hahahah—wait, that’s not funny….never mind, it totally is.” More laughter followed. “You could do so much better, Brian.”

“Korinne? What the hell are you doing?!” Stevie’s voice cried in the background.

Korinne continued like nothing had happened. “Like, seriously. It’s not even funny how much better you could do—”

“Are you talking to Brian?!”

“Not talking, leaving a message! Want to say hi? Stevie says hi!”

“Give me the phone.”

“No!”

There were several noises that suggested a struggle for the phone, followed by several curse words, and a click. I just sat there for a second, disbelieving. Since when had Korinne started drinking? Had I really freaked her out that much with the whole ‘I love you’ thing, or was it because of something else?

I glanced suspiciously at Zoe, who was still sniffling. She’d pulled stupid shit like this before—it wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d tried yet again to upset Korinne.

“What? Don’t give me that look,” she said.

“Are you sure you didn’t do anything to provoke her?”

“I swear.”

“Zoe, she wouldn’t just do that for no reason.”

“Are you kidding me?” Zoe’s lower lip started to tremble. “She called me a bitch! And you automatically assume that I did something? I’m supposed to be your girlfriend, Brian!”

“Don’t get mad at me. You’ve done things like this before. Just tell me what you did so I can call her and apologize for your bat-shit crazy behavior.”

“I didn’t do anything!” she shrieked. She started sobbing again. “Please believe me.”

I looked at her, carefully studying her expression. I knew she was a good liar, but in all the years I’d known her, I couldn’t recall ever having seen her this distressed before. It was clear that Korinne had really upset her, and despite my best efforts not to believe Zoe’s nonsense, I started to think that she might be right. Maybe Korinne wasn’t as nice as she seemed.

“Okay,” I said, moving over so I could wrap an arm around Zoe. She looked shocked, but she quickly relaxed against me and continued to cry. “I’ll take care of it.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, Zoe. She was mean to you for no reason and that’s not okay. I’ll deal with it.”

She moved closer, pressing her slightly round stomach against mine as she reached up to kiss me.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Within minutes, we had devoured the pizza. Zoe fell asleep soon after. And as I headed into the kitchen to clean up, I grabbed my phone, typed in Korinne’s number and hoped like hell that believing Zoe wouldn’t turn out to be a huge mistake.

+++

9:04 A.M.
Korinne;;

After tossing and turning all night, I had finally managed to fall into a restless sleep. It seemed like only minutes later that Stevie’s voice unpleasantly jolted me awake.

“Korinne, your phone’s ringing.”

I ignored her at first, lacking the strength to open my eyes and figure out where she was so I could kill her for talking so loudly. She soon repeated herself, and when I didn’t respond, she grabbed my pillow and gave it a shake. I let out a disgruntled noise and snatched the pillow away.

“Don’t growl at me.”

“Lower the volume,” I grumbled. My tongue felt like sandpaper.

“Of what? The phone, or my voice?” she said cheerily.

“Both.”

Stevie laughed. “Nope. Answer your phone.”

“Fuck off.”

The phone continued ringing.

“I’m not going to pick it up.”

“Errgh.” I pushed myself up on my elbows, trying to ignore the pounding in my head, and reached around for my phone.

“It’s over here.”

I looked toward the source of the noise, squinting through the dark room. Stevie was sitting on the floor in between my bed and a small table near the window. The expression on her face was somewhere between amusement and concern as she gestured to my phone on the table behind her.

“Can you hand it to me?” I asked, rubbing at my eye.

“Nope.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because the longer you stay in bed, the worse you’re going to feel. Get up and get it yourself.”

I frowned and gave her the finger. “Bitch.”

“Love you too.”

Muttering curse words, I forced myself out of bed. My body resisted every movement, and by the time I slid onto the floor, I felt even worse. I reached for the phone just as it stopped ringing.

“Oh, come on!” The tone of even my voice exacerbated my headache, making me clutch at my head. “Ow.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like a herd of angry elephants are trampling my skull.”

“Congrats,” Stevie said. “You’ve got your first hangover.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”

The phone resumed it’s annoying ringing.

“Ugh!” I let myself fall against the bed.

Stevie sighed and handed me the phone. Wearily, I took it from her, narrowing my eyes at the bright screen, and pressed the ‘Accept’ button.

“Hello?”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Korinne?”

It took me a few seconds to realize that it was Brian’s voice angrily meeting my ears.

“Um…what?”

“Oh, did I wake you up? Well, that’s just too damn bad.”

“Brian…what—”

“You made Zoe cry, Korinne. I don’t think I’ve seen her cry more than three times in the entire time I’ve known her.”

“Wait, what?” I was so confused, and my head hurt, and all I wanted to do was go back to bed and sleep for forever. “How did I make her cry? I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did! You left me a voicemail calling her a bitch and a whore and a bunch of other terrible things. I thought you were better than that.”

I thought back to last night. I remembered downing nearly an entire bottle of wine and then going for the mini bottle of champagne in the fridge, only to be stopped by Stevie, who’d taken the it for herself. I remembered lying on the floor with the carton of ice cream tipped upside down over my face, trying to get the last piece of chocolate to fall into my mouth while I giggled hysterically. I remembered ordering room service and making inappropriate suggestions to the super-cute guy who’d delivered the food. The one thing I didn’t remember, though, was calling Brian.

“…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “I really have no idea. Sorry.”

“Don’t lie to me, Korinne! I have my phone right here, and on it is a voice recording of you being mean to Zoe for no reason.”

“I didn’t—”

“I know you don’t like Zoe, but you’re going to have to get over it. I’m dating her. We’re having a baby. That’s not going to change.”

“I know that.” The words seemed to hurt more coming directly from him than they did when I reminded myself of them.

“Then why did you do what you did?”

I ran my hands through my hair, wincing as my fingers pulled at the tangles, and tried not to cry. I already felt bad enough, and I didn’t want to worsen my mood. The fact that I’d gotten drunk enough to forget things made me want to crawl into a hole and die. I’d always told myself that I would never end up like that, that I would never let myself get that pathetic. But those pictures had really fucked up my mental health, and—

Wait, the pictures!

Okay, having another voice inside my head is way too much for me to handle right now.

Deal with it. Brian doesn’t know about the pictures, does he?

…No?

Well, tell him! That would give you an excuse for your rambunctious drunken behavior.

He’s not going to believe me. Not after the voicemail I supposedly left him.

Oh, just tell him anyway!

“She sent me these pictures,” I blurted out suddenly. “Bad pictures. Of you. And her.”

Brian paused. “Define ‘bad’.”

“You guys were practically naked.”

He scoffed. “We never took any pictures like that, Korinne. And besides, she wouldn’t do that.”

“You were completely hammered in every single photo! How do you know whether or not she took them?”

“And how do I know whether or not you’re telling the truth?” he demanded, raising his voice.

The increase in volume, coupled with the unbelievable things he was suggesting, hurt. Tears started to sting at my eyes.

“I wouldn’t make something like that up, Brian. You know that.”

“Yeah, well, I also thought you would never be so deliberately unkind to someone. But you were.”

“Brian—”

“I really thought you were better than that. I really did.”

“She fucking sent me naked pictures of the two of you! How the fuck else am I supposed to react?!”

He was silent for a few seconds.

“I can’t believe I ever loved you,” he said. And then he hung up.

I sat there for a moment, still holding my phone to my ear like a dumbass, before placing the phone on the ground.

“Are you okay?” Stevie asked. From the careful way in which she was watching me, I guessed that she’d heard the whole conversation.

No, I sure as hell am not fucking okay.

“I’m fine.”

I got to my feet, briefly grabbing onto the table as my head swam, and readied myself to walk across the room.

“Korinne—”

“Let’s go shopping.” I navigated my way to the light switch and flipped it on.

Stevie gave me a bewildered look. “Shopping? But…you’re hungover…and Brian just…are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Stevie.” I snatched a few items of clothing that I thought would match out of my suitcase and headed for the bathroom. “I’m just going to take a shower, and then we can go.”

I didn’t wait for a response. Instead, I hurried into the bathroom and shut the door, forcing all thoughts of recent events out of my mind.

+++

1:14 P.M.

“Korinne, slow down. [Jesus. I’m hungry,” Stevie complained, giving the restaurant to her left a longing look.

“We’ll eat later.”

“But—”

“Keep up!”

I continued walking at a frenzied pace through the crowded street, looking for something that caught my attention. After grabbing some much-needed hangover food in the form of the hotel’s gourmet breakfast buffet, we’d taken the concierge’s advice and checked out a few of the most popular markets in town, leaving each with bulging shopping bags full of funky jewelry, clothes, and other cool stuff. Stevie seemed pleased with her purchases and content to leave, but I wasn’t. I felt like shit on toast, and shopping was about the last thing my body wanted to do at the moment, but I knew that I would be a total mess if I went back to the hotel. Every time I even started to think about what had happened, about how I’d humiliated myself and made Brian hate me, I stopped being able to breathe and started shaking. Constant motion was needed to keep me sane.

Occasionally glancing behind me to make sure Stevie was keeping up, I kept walking down the street. I didn’t know exactly what I was searching for. I’d already spent—in my opinion—way too much money, and I didn’t want to risk my mom’s wrath by putting another major purchase on her credit card. I needed a relatively cheap way to keep my mind off of things until Stevie decided that she couldn’t take it anymore and dragged me into a restaurant to eat lunch.

Eventually, I saw one shop in particular that caught my eye. I stood there staring into the building, my heart pounding with anticipation. Stevie caught up with me a moment later, cursing up a storm. She gave me an unpleasant look and leaned against the wall as she tried to catch her breath.

“Why are you stopped here?”

I turned to face her, grinning, and inclined my head in the direction of the building.

“We should get something pierced.”

Her eyes widened as she looked into the building. Several small rooms were visible through the window; one had its door open, revealing a girl about our age who had a needle sticking through her eyebrow.

“Oh, hell no.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” I attempted to pull her towards the door, but she stayed frozen to the spot.

“I don’t like needles.”

I rolled my eyes. “You have your ears pierced.”

“I had it done when I was a baby! I don’t even remember it!”

“You’ll be fine.”

“No!”

“Fine, then. I’ll go by myself.” Before she could stop me, I pushed through the door to the shop. A woman with dark auburn hair piled on top of her head and secured with a clip looked up from the magazine she was reading, giving me a warm smile.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

Stevie soon joined me, glancing around nervously.

“Have you lost your mind?” she hissed.

I ignored her and instead focused on the woman, who had turned her full attention to us.

“Are you girls interested in any piercings?”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

I glared at Stevie. “You can wait outside if you want, Stevie. I’m doing this with or without you.”

Stevie mumbled several curse words, but she didn’t protest as I let the woman direct me towards a list of the piercings they offered and the prices. I quickly looked over the list and turned back to the woman, already digging into my pockets for money.

“I’d like my tongue pierced.”

Oh my God.

Leave me alone.

You are insane.

Yeah, I know. Thanks.

“Okay, you have officially lost your mind!” Stevie screeched. “You can’t get your tongue pierced!”

“Why not?”

“Because your tongue could fall off, that’s why!”

“My tongue won’t fall off, Stevie,” I said, laughing. I looked to the woman for confirmation. “Right?”

“Right.”

“Good.” I handed her the last of the cash I’d been carting around with me for emergencies, and she disappeared into one of the back rooms, saying that she’d return as soon as someone was available.

“You’re not going to get away with this, you know,” Stevie told me. “You’re under eighteen. I’m sure you need parental permission or something.”

“Well, she didn’t ask, so…”

“Korinne.” Her voice was sharp. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I want my tongue pierced.”

“Does this have anything to do with what Brian—”

“No.”

I didn’t want to tell her that it had everything to do with Brian, that it always had and probably always would have everything to do with Brian. No matter what he’d said to me, I had trouble thinking of him any differently. He was always part of my thoughts. He was part of my thoughts as the woman came back for me, as she led me into one of the back rooms, and introduced me to a friendly-looking guy who was covered in tattoos. He was part of my thoughts as the guy secured my tongue with a scary-looking clamp and reached for a needle that made Stevie—who had surprisingly followed me into the room—curse under her breath and cover her eyes.

And even as the needle stabbed through my tongue, Brian was still the first and foremost thing on my mind.