Paradise City

My head was pounding.

It felt like someone was taking an axe to my skull, splitting it open like a piece of wood. I had no recollection of the night before. All that I knew was that there was a party, a big one. After the first round of beer pong, things weren't piecing themselves together. My stomach churned and the room was spinning. I had definitely seen better mornings.

I woke up in my bed, that was a good thing. However, I was only wearing my stockings and that alarmed me. Sure, there was a possibility that I could have decided to take off all of my clothes and go to sleep. I'm sure unlacing a corset by myself and also very drunk, was a piece of cake. At least, I hoped it was. I hoped that I didn't sleep with anyone, especially anyone random or worse, anyone that I knew, like Kyle. He was the last person I remember being with. Oh God, what if I slept with Kyle.

My eyes searched my room landing first on the costume dress that had been folded and placed delicately on my dresser. The second thing that I saw was the empty condom wrapper that laid on the floor next to the bed. I sighed. For a second there I had faith in my ability to be able to undress myself while drunk.

My reflection made me jump as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I pulled a t-shirt out of the drawer and slipped in over my head. Fake blood was smeared all over my face, chest, and stomach and my hair was sticking out in every direction. Greyish facepaint and black mascara was smeared all over my eyes and cheeks. I really did look dead, only this time I didn't have a cute princess costume to make it any better. I leaned forward, noticing what looked like black makeup on my neck. I rubbed at it, and when it didn't come off, I realized that the marks were hickies instead.

Again, my stomach churned, only this time I felt a wave of nausea come over me. I made a beeline for the bathroom, flipping up the lid to the commode and emptied the contents of my stomach. With each heave of yellow bile, I felt myself becoming more sick. The rotten taste in my mouth didn't help. Seconds later Violet was at my side, holding my hair and rubbing my back. As I began dry heaving, I noticed someone else standing in the doorway, leaning up against the threshold.

"Don't look at me," I yelled at Dean as I hugged the toilet. I could hear him chuckling. When my stomach was empty, Violet handed me a tissue so that I could wipe my mouth. "What are you laughing at?" I asked him as I leaned up against the bathtub. Violet excused herself, scurrying back down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Dean shrugged. "You look like you just climbed out of your grave and you're throwing up. It's actually cute. Your other boyfriends don't get to see you like this, so I feel special." He was handed a glass of water by whom I assume was Violet and handed it to me.

"My other boyfriends, yeah. I don't even have one boyfriend, let alone multiple ones." I said as I sipped on the water.

"You have me." He said nonchalantly like he was the coolest guy in the world, leaning up against the door in his beater and jeans; hair all slicked back like he was in some greaser movie, suggesting that he's my boyfriend like that's not a big deal whatsoever.

"You're not my boyfriend," I said to him as I stood up, brushing past him to grab a fresh pair of clothes from my room.

He stayed on my heels the entire time, watching me as I gathered my things for a shower. "I could be," he said with a twinge of hope in his voice. "I want to be."

My shoulders dropped instinctively. I felt cornered and I hated that feeling. I slept with him last night. If his 'all of the sudden boyfriend' demeanor didn't give it away, then the red stain on his lips did- unless he was wearing lipstick, he had to have been the one sucking the cherry syrup from my boussom. I didn't regret it, but it shouldn't have happened. I didn't want to be with him anymore. I just wanted to be alone.

He opened his mouth to say something else; most likely go off on another tangent about how he wasn't going to leave. I was sick of that speech. The whole 'I'm not going anywhere' thing was getting old.

"Dean," I said to him. I probably looked real menacing right now with my zombie makeup and sex hair. How was I supposed to get my point across when I looked like roadkill. "Get out." His eyebrows came together in confusion. "Just leave. I asked you for space and you're clearly not respecting that, so please just get the fuck out and leave me alone. You're not my boyfriend, and just to make things perfectly clear for you since you don't understand, you're never going to be my boyfriend. I'm sick and tired of being down all the time because of you. How many times do I have to say it? Please, just go."

He didn't say anything after that, just stomped off down the hallway and stormed out the front door. I flinched as the door slammed shut behind him. I let out a heavy sigh and made my way back into the bathroom to take a shower, stalling as long as I could before I had to face Violet. I knew she heard that entire conversation, and I knew she would be sitting at the kitchen table, newspaper in hand and eyebrows raised, ready to barrage me with questions.

"Don't." I told her when I walked into the kitchen, running a towel through my hair. Just as I suspected, Violet was waiting for me. "I know you're a hardcore believer of true love and all that 'fate' bullshit, my parents were too, and I do not want some cliche speech about how we are supposed to be together. We aren't."

Violet didn't say anything as I took a bite out of one of the caramel apples that was left over from last night. The look on her face screamed that she had something to say that was just on the tip of her tongue. I held my hands up in the air, motioning for her to spit it out.

"Do you think that maybe you're being a little too stubborn? I know that's who you are and all, but come on, Cal. It wasn't just you who lost that baby. It isn't just you who feels like they're getting the short end of the stick. He hurt you a few times, I get it. You two either need a long break from each other, or you need to sit down and actually talk face to face without fucking each other. The guy's irresistible, clearly, but if that's all you guys do or if that's how you fix your problems, then you're right. You aren't meant to be together."

"Tell me how to fix it, Vi." My voice was weak. She was right. Everyone was always right instead of me. It was like they all knew me and what was best for me better than I did. I'm my own worst enemy.

Violet stood up and moved to stand in front of me. She placed her hands on my shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. "No one can tell you how to fix it. You have to do that yourself." She said softly. "But give it a few weeks, okay?"

I nodded as she gave me a soft smile.

"Now, I have to go pick up Sam from the airport." Her tone changed from reassuring to flat in a split second.

"You're not happy about that?" I asked confused. She was always so happy about Sam coming home, but this time things seemed different. She gave me a side smile and grabbed her keys from the counter. I didn't press the issue, figuring that if she wanted to talk about it, she'd say something sooner or later. "Okay, well I'll see you when I get off then."

She waved as she backed out of the front door, leaving me by myself in an empty house. I picked up my phone to call James and tell him about what had just transpired between Dean and I, but then I remembered that he didn't care, and that I had spoken to him since the day I told him I was pregnant. I hadn't even told him that I had lost the baby, yet. He tried hard to get into contact with me; calling, texting, Facebook messaging. But every time he tried, I was either working or helping Violet bake or some other excuse that really wasn't an excuse.

I felt bad for not talking to him, but even if I did decided to pick up the phone the next time he called, what was I going to say to him? I didn't want to have to tell that story all over again. I didn't want to hear from yet another person on how I need to get over myself and fix things with Dean. I knew I needed to fix things, but I wasn't the only one. I couldn't do it all by myself! That's what being with Dean felt like. Like it was just me, all alone, while he gallivants around the country with his travelling circus. I didn't want to have to tell someone that, because he'd say just what everyone else says, 'communication'.

As the days passed into weeks, I found myself on a lather, rinse, repeat kind of schedule. I'd wake up, go to work, come home, and get in bed. Sam found a permanent job in Vegas, and was no long required to travel back and forth from Nevada to California. That only shined the light on what Violet and Sam's relationship was really like. Here I was thinking they were the happiest couple you'd ever meet, yet every night that I came home they'd be fighting about something else. He thought she was cheating on him, the house was never clean enough, they didn't have enough money to pay the bills. It was always something with Sam.

Violet never told me how he really was. I stayed in my room away from it, because if I dared to step out he'd have something to say. There were a few nights that I stayed over at Kyle's. I missed my own apartment and Dean was out on the road again. Kyle told me all about Sam, the 'abusive, cheating, son of a bitch' as he liked to call him. Told me about the time Violet was late going out with the group because her make up couldn't cover her bruises. It was safe to say that Kyle hated Sam, and may have even loved Violet at one point. He refused to talk about it, which led me to believe he might actually still have those feelings.

One night after I came home from work, I was ready to head straight back to my bedroom in order to avoid that wrath of Sam. However, when I stepped through the front door there was no yelling, no screaming, no remotes being thrown across the room. Instead, Violet was sitting quietly at the kitchen table, reading the latest issue of Cosmopolitan.

"Where's Sam?" I asked her as I tossed my keys in the bowl by the door.

"Sam's gone." She stated. Just like that, as if it didn't matter to her.

"Gone?" I repeated her words, wondering what she meant. Was he gone to the store or gone for good as in he moved out. I prayed that it was the latter.

She simply nodded her head. "He left." Her tone didn't match the smile on her lips. "He said that he could find someone prettier and smarter and skinnier than me. I didn't argue with him, I let him go."

"Good!" I breathed out. "Violet, what I'm about to say to you, I'm not only saying it because you're my best friend. But you're way too good for that piece of shit. He does not deserve you, okay? You'll find someone ten times better than him, and he might be closer than you think." I added, hinting to Kyle. I wouldn't mind seeing the two of them get together. "You and Sam were together for seven years and that's a long time. You're not going to get over it in the blink of an eye, but please promise me that you will try and see that he was a genuine asshole."

"I will," she replied as she wiped a tear from her cheek. "But you have to try to work on your relationships. Not just with Dean but with James, too."

I held my pinky finger out to her and she wrapped hers around mine. "I promise," we said in unison.

"Netflix?" Violet asked as she stood up from the table. She moved over to the cupboard and pulled out a bag of microwavable popcorn and held it up in the air for me to see.

"Netflix." I confirmed, scooting the chair out from underneath me.

I pulled the blanket off of the back of the couch and curled up in a ball against the arm of the couch. Once Violet was done making the popcorn, she joined me, grabbing her own blanket and settling down in the recliner. It was nice to have the living room back. I pulled out my phone and sent James a quick text, hoping to hear back from him before he had gone to sleep.

It wasn't much, but at least I was going to try.