Status: I would love feedback!
Battle Scars
Relapse
Ten at night, practically bed time for a fucking seven year old, and she was already trashed out of her mind. It felt good to be back after so long. That first cigarette was the best thing. She took that puff and let the smoke out, and suddenly everything was alright. If Mom and Dad found out she snuck out, it was alright. If all her pity-friends abandoned her, it was alright, because at the moment that feeling, the self-destructive feeling that gave her a better high than any other drug could, that feeling was back.
She was at the point where she could barely think, and she loved it. She could taste the last drink she had in her mouth, and her mind was so hazy from the weed and coke. She was so thrilled.
She didn’t even know whose house she was at, only that it was mostly college kids, and she was probably the youngest person there, but she didn’t care. Wherever she was, there was booze, drugs, and everything else she needed, so life was good.
Loud music pulsed throughout the house, and in the back of her mind she watched a couple dozen of people dancing in a living room. They quickly lost her attention when Jon returns to her side, another drink in his hand. She quickly drains it and drops the red solo cup on the floor.
Between dropping the solo cup on the floor and the next morning, the rest is a haze, as if someone took an eraser to the black-board of her mind and erased it, with a little bit of residue left. She remembered getting into Jon’s car, she remembered telling him to kiss her, she had her first cigarette in four months and it was all because of him, and he better kiss her, dammit. And he did, and she remembered getting pushed into the back seat, and she remembered the casual car sex. The next thing that had clearly processed through her mind was waking up in her bed, her first thought How the fuck did I get home?
The bits of memories slowly slugged back, but it wasn’t enough to piece everything together. Stumbling out of bed, she noticed the time. 11:30. Fuck. She wasn’t going to be able to get to school today, and when Mom and Dad found out, they’d be pissed. She’d have to tell them she was sick, or some other white lie.
She picked her phone up off the dresser and turned it on, shocked to see the twenty texts that took up the screen.
Alli, what happened?
Alli, I heard that you got into some trouble last night, what went down?
We’re going to need to talk, I’m worried about you.
The list went on and on, her pity-friends all so strung up on trying to save her soul or whatever the hell it is they want to do. Snorting in disgust, she quickly deleted all of her messages and threw them onto her bed. Turning around too quickly, she felt a sharp pain in her head and something starting to rise up her throat. She sprinted to the bathroom and made it just in time to spill her stomach’s contents into the toilet.
Once she rinsed the taste of vomit out of her mouth, she crawled into the shower, sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees, letting the water fall onto her back. She sat like that for a half hour, turned off the shower, then crawled back into bed.
BRYCE:
Heading to school, he looked for her all over, and she wasn’t there. He didn’t know why he looked, and he didn’t know why he felt a pit in his stomach when she wasn’t there.
Slumping in his chair in first block, he tapped the back of one of her friends, pretty sure her name was Tara. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow.
“I, uh, I was wondering if you knew where Alli was,” he said as casually as he could, “I have to work on a project with her..”
She raised her eyebrows even higher, as if she knew that he was lying. “Honestly, it beats me. We all know she went out partying last night and got trashed, so hopefully she’s not in the trunk of somebody’s car.” And with that lovely visual image, she turned around back to her work.
He took a deep breath, letting his mind clear itself. So, she went out last night. Got trashed, did God knows what. He tried to tell himself that he shouldn’t have expected less from her, it’s who she was, but the tugging feeling in the back of his mind kept telling him that maybe there was something, anything he could do about it.
She was at the point where she could barely think, and she loved it. She could taste the last drink she had in her mouth, and her mind was so hazy from the weed and coke. She was so thrilled.
She didn’t even know whose house she was at, only that it was mostly college kids, and she was probably the youngest person there, but she didn’t care. Wherever she was, there was booze, drugs, and everything else she needed, so life was good.
Loud music pulsed throughout the house, and in the back of her mind she watched a couple dozen of people dancing in a living room. They quickly lost her attention when Jon returns to her side, another drink in his hand. She quickly drains it and drops the red solo cup on the floor.
Between dropping the solo cup on the floor and the next morning, the rest is a haze, as if someone took an eraser to the black-board of her mind and erased it, with a little bit of residue left. She remembered getting into Jon’s car, she remembered telling him to kiss her, she had her first cigarette in four months and it was all because of him, and he better kiss her, dammit. And he did, and she remembered getting pushed into the back seat, and she remembered the casual car sex. The next thing that had clearly processed through her mind was waking up in her bed, her first thought How the fuck did I get home?
The bits of memories slowly slugged back, but it wasn’t enough to piece everything together. Stumbling out of bed, she noticed the time. 11:30. Fuck. She wasn’t going to be able to get to school today, and when Mom and Dad found out, they’d be pissed. She’d have to tell them she was sick, or some other white lie.
She picked her phone up off the dresser and turned it on, shocked to see the twenty texts that took up the screen.
Alli, what happened?
Alli, I heard that you got into some trouble last night, what went down?
We’re going to need to talk, I’m worried about you.
The list went on and on, her pity-friends all so strung up on trying to save her soul or whatever the hell it is they want to do. Snorting in disgust, she quickly deleted all of her messages and threw them onto her bed. Turning around too quickly, she felt a sharp pain in her head and something starting to rise up her throat. She sprinted to the bathroom and made it just in time to spill her stomach’s contents into the toilet.
Once she rinsed the taste of vomit out of her mouth, she crawled into the shower, sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees, letting the water fall onto her back. She sat like that for a half hour, turned off the shower, then crawled back into bed.
BRYCE:
Heading to school, he looked for her all over, and she wasn’t there. He didn’t know why he looked, and he didn’t know why he felt a pit in his stomach when she wasn’t there.
Slumping in his chair in first block, he tapped the back of one of her friends, pretty sure her name was Tara. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow.
“I, uh, I was wondering if you knew where Alli was,” he said as casually as he could, “I have to work on a project with her..”
She raised her eyebrows even higher, as if she knew that he was lying. “Honestly, it beats me. We all know she went out partying last night and got trashed, so hopefully she’s not in the trunk of somebody’s car.” And with that lovely visual image, she turned around back to her work.
He took a deep breath, letting his mind clear itself. So, she went out last night. Got trashed, did God knows what. He tried to tell himself that he shouldn’t have expected less from her, it’s who she was, but the tugging feeling in the back of his mind kept telling him that maybe there was something, anything he could do about it.
♠ ♠ ♠
Finally finished finals, thank you God, so hopefully more updates. I would love some feedback!