Everything I Used to be is Coming Back to Torture Me
Clover, Meet Alcohol; Alcohol, Meet Clover
After playing A Little Piece of Heaven as their encore, Avenged Sevenfold left the stage. Clover just followed them, not entirely sure where to go. One of the roadies handed her a water bottle as she stepped down off the stage and she gratefully accepted it. By the time the band ended up at their destination—the room where they’d been before the concert—Clover had drunk the entire bottle. Only when Clover sat down and had a chance to think about her physical condition did she notice her heart beating at a million miles an hour in her chest. She’d never felt so exhilarated in her life, or so close to completely collapsing.
Zacky walked over, his shirt stuck to his skin from sweat—Clover couldn’t judge, hers was the exact same way—and patted Clover on the back. She smiled tiredly up at him and he grinned back, looking about to burst apart from energy. Clover envied him for his energy despite the concert.
“You did fucking fabulous,” Zacky told her. The other men quickly concurred. Although Clover’s skin felt like it was on fire, she felt her face heat up even more as she blushed deeply.
“This calls for celebration!” Brian announced.
“By celebration, you mean drinking, right?” Matt asked, turning to face his friend.
“Is there any other type of celebration?” Brian answered, making it sound like it was the most obvious fact ever.
“Please, whatever you do, don’t come back so drunk that you forget I’m on the couch and proceed to sit on me,” Clover requested, her adrenaline draining away until she felt like just curling up in her chair and falling asleep for about a week. Clover slept on the couch because she still wasn’t comfortable sleeping in the same room as the rest of them. They were her brothers, basically, but they were men and she wasn’t entirely sure she liked the idea of sleeping in the same room as them. A lot of the things Patricia and Stephen preached to Clover went in one ear and out the other, but not everything; for instance, the separation between man and woman who aren’t romantically attached.
“Whoa, hold up, sister,” Johnny exclaimed. “You’re not getting out of this that easy.”
“What?” Clover asked, not entirely sure what he meant.
“You heard him. You’re coming with us. You deserve to celebrate more than the rest of us! You rocked the house tonight,” Matt said matter-of-factly.
“I’m underage, though,” Clover replied. “And I’m exhausted. Can’t I sleep?”
“Sleep! Sleep! No, you’re coming to party with us,” Zacky answered without even thinking it over a little bit.
“Oh, bleh, goody two-shoes,” Brian teased. “We can get you in, no problem. Now, c’mon, no more arguments!”
He walked over and grabbed Clover’s arm, easily pulling her to her feet. He allowed her to stand on her own two feet before leading her towards the doorway. Clover sighed and just went along with it; maybe if she agreed to go with them, they’d be more lenient later about letting her sleep.
@!@!@
Thirty minutes later, they sat in a private room in a nearby bar. The five of them sat around a circular table, in the middle of which sat several bottles of various alcohols and about seven shot glasses. With a dramatic flourish, Zacky poured some of the liquid from one of the bottles into a glass before passing it across the table to Clover. She reluctantly accepted it, swishing the liquid around inside the glass and staring dubiously at it.
“C’mon, Clover,” Johnny wheedled. The other band members quickly joined in, attempting to convince Clover to drink the shot.
“I’ve never drank any alcohol ever,” Clover countered. “Cut me some slack, will ya?”
“Take it!” Brian snapped. “You’ll like it, I promise!”
The others continued with their teasing and urgings. Clover sighed, knowing she’d never hear the end of it if she didn’t drink at least one shot. She probably wouldn’t even like it. No harm, no foul.
She brought the shot to her lips and tossed it back. Her band mates cheered as she put the shot glass back down on the table. She gasped as the alcohol slid down her throat, burning throughout the journey to her stomach. Clover coughed, her eyes watering and smearing the minimal makeup she wore. All of the men watched her expectantly as the alcohol settled in her stomach and she stopped coughing. The heat died to a calming warmth in the pit of her stomach. It was actually pretty pleasant and soothing, like a kiss on the forehead from one’s mother.
“Not so bad, I guess,” Clover commented with a shrug.
“Here, try a beer,” Zacky said, opening a bottle and handing it to her. Feeling slightly braver now, Clover took a drink of the alcohol. She grimaced and swallowed.
“Ugh, that’s terrible,” Clover said, putting the bottle down. “It doesn’t have the kick the stronger stuff does.”
“She’s my kind of girl,” Matt exclaimed happily. “Here, have another shot.”
And so it began.
@!@!@
Clover woke up slowly the following morning. Usually, she woke up in a pretty snappy fashion, switching from sleep to wakefulness within a few seconds, ready to take on the day and jump out of bed and get going. This morning, however, it took her several minutes to just drag herself out of the half-sleeping, half-waking stage. She felt like she was climbing slowly up a set of stairs towards a square of bright light above her. And no matter how many steps she took, the square of light didn’t seem to be getting any brighter or bigger.
Clover’s brain took a few minutes to click on even after she was awake. Once it did though, Clover noticed that her head was throbbing something terrible at both temples, but she didn’t feel sick to her stomach as she had expected. Next, Clover focused on maybe opening her eyes. It felt like a titanic task all of a sudden. She finally urged her eyes open; however, the burst of bright light exploded into sharp pain inside her skull. Clover groaned and clenched her eyes shut again, feeling all that effort to open her eyes had been wasted.
Clover knew she’d have to sit up and then eventually get off of the couch sometime today. Now seemed as good a time as ever. She pulled her arms out from underneath her comforter and braced her hands on the cushions underneath her, slowly shoving herself into an upright position. She felt like an old person with cranky joints, only her immobility was caused by a hangover rather than old age. Clover felt some vertigo from being upright but it quickly passed. She experimentally opened her eyes again; this time it hurt less so she kept them open.
Patricia and Stephen had always told Clover that alcohol was bad and it always was bad, no exceptions. Clover had concurred, never having seen anything good come from alcohol. Now, however, Clover felt that maybe alcohol wasn’t so bad, if you were smart about it. The previous night, she had felt included and accepted as she drank with the others. They included and accepted her already, of course, but drinking with them was a different level of that. It was a higher, better level.
Even better, once Clover got enough alcohol in her system, she couldn’t even remember any of the things that made her feel bad. Her past seemed to disappear into some dark, blurry abyss and she lived completely in the moment. It was absolutely beautiful.
Sure, Clover felt terrible now, but sometimes you had to put in some pain to gain something back. No pain, no gain, right? Alcohol had opened a whole new realm of happiness for Clover, a realm she couldn’t wait to get back inside, no matter what the cost.
Zacky walked over, his shirt stuck to his skin from sweat—Clover couldn’t judge, hers was the exact same way—and patted Clover on the back. She smiled tiredly up at him and he grinned back, looking about to burst apart from energy. Clover envied him for his energy despite the concert.
“You did fucking fabulous,” Zacky told her. The other men quickly concurred. Although Clover’s skin felt like it was on fire, she felt her face heat up even more as she blushed deeply.
“This calls for celebration!” Brian announced.
“By celebration, you mean drinking, right?” Matt asked, turning to face his friend.
“Is there any other type of celebration?” Brian answered, making it sound like it was the most obvious fact ever.
“Please, whatever you do, don’t come back so drunk that you forget I’m on the couch and proceed to sit on me,” Clover requested, her adrenaline draining away until she felt like just curling up in her chair and falling asleep for about a week. Clover slept on the couch because she still wasn’t comfortable sleeping in the same room as the rest of them. They were her brothers, basically, but they were men and she wasn’t entirely sure she liked the idea of sleeping in the same room as them. A lot of the things Patricia and Stephen preached to Clover went in one ear and out the other, but not everything; for instance, the separation between man and woman who aren’t romantically attached.
“Whoa, hold up, sister,” Johnny exclaimed. “You’re not getting out of this that easy.”
“What?” Clover asked, not entirely sure what he meant.
“You heard him. You’re coming with us. You deserve to celebrate more than the rest of us! You rocked the house tonight,” Matt said matter-of-factly.
“I’m underage, though,” Clover replied. “And I’m exhausted. Can’t I sleep?”
“Sleep! Sleep! No, you’re coming to party with us,” Zacky answered without even thinking it over a little bit.
“Oh, bleh, goody two-shoes,” Brian teased. “We can get you in, no problem. Now, c’mon, no more arguments!”
He walked over and grabbed Clover’s arm, easily pulling her to her feet. He allowed her to stand on her own two feet before leading her towards the doorway. Clover sighed and just went along with it; maybe if she agreed to go with them, they’d be more lenient later about letting her sleep.
@!@!@
Thirty minutes later, they sat in a private room in a nearby bar. The five of them sat around a circular table, in the middle of which sat several bottles of various alcohols and about seven shot glasses. With a dramatic flourish, Zacky poured some of the liquid from one of the bottles into a glass before passing it across the table to Clover. She reluctantly accepted it, swishing the liquid around inside the glass and staring dubiously at it.
“C’mon, Clover,” Johnny wheedled. The other band members quickly joined in, attempting to convince Clover to drink the shot.
“I’ve never drank any alcohol ever,” Clover countered. “Cut me some slack, will ya?”
“Take it!” Brian snapped. “You’ll like it, I promise!”
The others continued with their teasing and urgings. Clover sighed, knowing she’d never hear the end of it if she didn’t drink at least one shot. She probably wouldn’t even like it. No harm, no foul.
She brought the shot to her lips and tossed it back. Her band mates cheered as she put the shot glass back down on the table. She gasped as the alcohol slid down her throat, burning throughout the journey to her stomach. Clover coughed, her eyes watering and smearing the minimal makeup she wore. All of the men watched her expectantly as the alcohol settled in her stomach and she stopped coughing. The heat died to a calming warmth in the pit of her stomach. It was actually pretty pleasant and soothing, like a kiss on the forehead from one’s mother.
“Not so bad, I guess,” Clover commented with a shrug.
“Here, try a beer,” Zacky said, opening a bottle and handing it to her. Feeling slightly braver now, Clover took a drink of the alcohol. She grimaced and swallowed.
“Ugh, that’s terrible,” Clover said, putting the bottle down. “It doesn’t have the kick the stronger stuff does.”
“She’s my kind of girl,” Matt exclaimed happily. “Here, have another shot.”
And so it began.
@!@!@
Clover woke up slowly the following morning. Usually, she woke up in a pretty snappy fashion, switching from sleep to wakefulness within a few seconds, ready to take on the day and jump out of bed and get going. This morning, however, it took her several minutes to just drag herself out of the half-sleeping, half-waking stage. She felt like she was climbing slowly up a set of stairs towards a square of bright light above her. And no matter how many steps she took, the square of light didn’t seem to be getting any brighter or bigger.
Clover’s brain took a few minutes to click on even after she was awake. Once it did though, Clover noticed that her head was throbbing something terrible at both temples, but she didn’t feel sick to her stomach as she had expected. Next, Clover focused on maybe opening her eyes. It felt like a titanic task all of a sudden. She finally urged her eyes open; however, the burst of bright light exploded into sharp pain inside her skull. Clover groaned and clenched her eyes shut again, feeling all that effort to open her eyes had been wasted.
Clover knew she’d have to sit up and then eventually get off of the couch sometime today. Now seemed as good a time as ever. She pulled her arms out from underneath her comforter and braced her hands on the cushions underneath her, slowly shoving herself into an upright position. She felt like an old person with cranky joints, only her immobility was caused by a hangover rather than old age. Clover felt some vertigo from being upright but it quickly passed. She experimentally opened her eyes again; this time it hurt less so she kept them open.
Patricia and Stephen had always told Clover that alcohol was bad and it always was bad, no exceptions. Clover had concurred, never having seen anything good come from alcohol. Now, however, Clover felt that maybe alcohol wasn’t so bad, if you were smart about it. The previous night, she had felt included and accepted as she drank with the others. They included and accepted her already, of course, but drinking with them was a different level of that. It was a higher, better level.
Even better, once Clover got enough alcohol in her system, she couldn’t even remember any of the things that made her feel bad. Her past seemed to disappear into some dark, blurry abyss and she lived completely in the moment. It was absolutely beautiful.
Sure, Clover felt terrible now, but sometimes you had to put in some pain to gain something back. No pain, no gain, right? Alcohol had opened a whole new realm of happiness for Clover, a realm she couldn’t wait to get back inside, no matter what the cost.
♠ ♠ ♠
You know, I kinda like the dynamic of this story. I like the contrast between the past, seeing Clover's regression, and the present, seeing Clover's progression and recovery. =}NOW COMMENT! C'mon! It can't be that hard, can it?