Everything Changed

Ronnie's PoV

The light shined through the blinds of my small bedroom which caused me to groan. Why did the sun always have to be so bright? It probably didn't help that my head was pounding from the night before, but it just adds onto the pounding in my head.

I pulled my duvet over my head in an attempt to block out the outside world. Sadly it was a failure. I sighed and grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen off the night stand beside my bed and poured a few into my hand before I grabbed a water bottle and swallowed them.

My memories of the previous night were fuzzy, but weren't they always? I figured if it was important then it would have stood out in my mind and I would remember. Even if I was hungover.

I was about to go back to sleep when there was a loud pounding on my door.

"Ronnie get your ass up!" My roommate Jackson yelled. When I didn't answer he walked into the room.

"What do you want?" I groaned burying my face into the pillow.

"I want you to get your ass out of bed." He told me. "You have a job interview today remember? Luckily it's not until 5:30."

"Do I have to go?" I asked.

"Yes. Now get up." He commanded. When I didn't move he sighed. "Don't make me do this Veronica." He said in a threatening tone.

In a way Jackson was like an older brother to me. He was always looking out for me. Helping me with whatever I needed help with. We met back when I was sent to a group home when I was 16. He was nineteen, and was staying at the group home until he made enough money to rent an apartment.

He and I became really close. I told him everything. He was the one person I trusted. He still is. When I turned 18 I left the group home and went to live with him. Ever since he has been supporting the both of us.

"You really need to get up Ronnie." He said softly. I felt bad for mooching off of him, so every time he came to me saying he had a job interview to go to I went with it, even though I knew I would never get hired.

"Fine. Fine. I'm getting up." I said in defeat.

"That's my girl." He smiled. "Now get dressed. You have to leave in 2 hours. Your interview is in 3." I nodded and he left the room.

I showered and got dressed. I straightened my hair and put on some makeup. Not so much that I looked like a whore, but just enough to make my eyes pop. I grabbed a pair of sunglasses off the bathroom counter and went into the living room where Jackson was watching The Kardashians.

"Why are you watching a bunch of fakes on tv?" I laughed.

"Their lives are interesting." He shrugged and looked at me before he raised his eyebrows. "Really Ron? Ripped jeans and combat boots to a job interview?"

"You forgot about the shirt." I said gesturing to the Sex Pistols shirt I was wearing.

"What am I going to do with you?" He asked.

"Figure out how to make me immune to hangovers because I feel like death." I groaned holding my head.

"You have it easy. If I get hungover I puke my brains out." He told me.

"I still feel like death." I complained.

"Maybe if you didn't go out drinking every night you wouldn't get hungover." He pointed out.

"I'm not having this conversation right now." I said. "I drink. So what. I'm over 21. It's legal."

"It changes you Ron, you become a whole different person."

"Or I become who I really am." I argued. "Drinking brings out the real me."

"If that's the real you then that's fucked up." He said. "You become the easiest girl to fuck around. You'll do anything anyone tells you. You make rash decisions. It's not safe. I'm getting worried."

"Don't Jackson. I can take care of myself. I've done it before." I sighed.

"Can you Ron? 'Cause you sure as hell haven't the past five years. You only have had a place to stay, clothes, and food because of me. I'm the one working, while you go out every night and drink. I wouldn't call that 'taking care of yourself'. " he was yelling now, and that definitely wasn't helping my head.

"Fine. Do you want me to leave?" I asked coldly. His expression softened.

"No. Never. But I'm worried about you. You're drinking your life away. You're 23 years old. When's the last time you went on a real date. Or even went out, Without any alcohol I mean."

"I'm partying. Isn't that what 23 year olds do?"

"Yeah. On Friday nights and on weekends. Most 23 year olds work." He said. I rolled my eyes.

"I'll work on getting a fucking job okay?" I yelled. "Not everything works itself out easily. Just because you were able to figure yourself out after being in a mess doesn't mean everyone else can." I ranted before walking out of the apartment. I heard him yell my name but ignored it and just kept walking down the hallway of the apartment building until I was outside. I then got a taxi to the one place I was always welcomed.

My favorite bar.