Don't Fall Apart On Me Tonight

I watched Killian drive away and I felt a rush of emotions, most of which I never could have imagined. 

I felt happy because I had gotten my way.

I felt relieved because I wouldn't have to listen to his lecture.

I felt better knowing that he'd be able to do whatever he wanted to do tonight instead of talking care of his sorry excuse of a best friend. 

I felt incomplete as if a shark had risen from the hurricane that is my life and bitten off the biggest and best part of me. 

I felt the worst kind of guilt for yelling at him like I had. 

I felt lonely and, as cheesy as it sounds, I felt misunderstood. 

I felt pissed beyond belief. 

How could my own mother say that? How could my dad pretend I didn't exist? How could I possibly expect anything from them?

How could Killian just leave me? I mean, I know I yelled at him and I told him to leave me alone but I didn't mean it. I wanted him to force me into his car and take me back to his house where we would climb into the safe haven of his bed. He would hold me and just let me cry and it wouldn't be weird because that's just how we are. And while we were laying there I might have, just maybe, let myself be carried away in a daydream where I wasn't me and I actually deserved to have a boyfriend as good as him. 

But that didn't happen and it wasn't going to and it was all my fault. 

Like I said, I'm fucked up and I'm not jaded enough to believe that I haven't done it to myself. 

My fists clench and I shove them deep into my pockets, brainstorming on what to do next. If I were smart I'd go to Killians house and beg for forgiveness.....again. 

But that's only if I were smart and I think we both know I'm not. 

Instead I settle on heading to Jordan's house. He's notorious for his parties and as far as I know, not a weekend has passed where there's not a party at his house. Thank god it's Saturday. 

By the time I get there it's dark and I can feel the bass pumping through my veins as I let myself in. 

Few people look at me and none of them recognize me. I shove my way through half naked sweating bodies to the den where Jordan keeps his private stash of Moonshine. 

Technically, it's for VIP's only and, according to him, after that life-changing blow job I gave him last month, I'm a very important person.

I grab the jar from behind his precious XBox 360 and open it, instantly rethinking my decision because this stuff smells disgusting.

I've honestly never had Moonshine before but I hear it's the absolute strongest kind of alcohol. So strong that they don't sell it anywhere. So strong it's illegal. So strong that you have to make it yourself. 

Strong is what I need so I decide to stop being such a little bitch and just drink it already. 

My throat burns in protest and honestly, I think it might have felt better to drink bleach but I know that the affect of the torture is euphoria so I ignore the searing pain and gulp down some more until I absolutely can't anymore. 

By the time I'm actually done with it I don't have enough motor skills to screw the top back on so I just set it back down where I got it and walk out of the room. 

Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Grab door knob. Twist. Open door. Left. Right. Left. Close door. Right. Left.

I'm hit by a wall of beats and sound and all I can do is move by body with it. Hands touch me all over and I feel them and I don't care. They pull me with them to a place with even more hands. Someone pulls at me from behind and someone presses against me from the front and I don't care. 

Lips graze over my ear and my jaw an my neck and I'm being attacked but I don't care. 

My shirt comes off and my belt slides off and I'm being felt all over but I don't care. 

But then a hand slides past the waistband and I do care. I care because I know it's not the hand I want. But I can't bring myself to stop it so I make myself not care. 

More hands. More lips. More touching. 

But.
      I.
         Just.
                Don't.
                        Care.