Ghosting
sandpaper tongue.
Damn him to the hell he came from. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, a swamp had formed behind my teeth. Breathing came with effort and a hacking cough that sounded as unpleasant as it felt. I had woken up precisely half an hour late for school, tangled up with Noah on a couch I couldn’t remember seeing before. My shirt created a pattern of shadows on the wall from where it lay on the only light source; more rag that wearable outfit somehow. Vicious looking bite marks ran a path down my neck and thighs and I ached something terrible.
Some corner of the room reeked of vomit and the blanket we were under smelled like something that belonged in a history book. One of the clasps on my bra was broken and I slumped back into Noah’s arm. He coiled around me breathing softly, pressing his face into the crook of my neck with a sigh. I ignored the blinking clock across from me and curled into him, fitting my awkward limbs where they pleased.
“Cather, wake up. Cather, hey.”
“What.”
A laugh sounded soft above me, “We need to get back into town. It’s past noon.”
I yawned reaching my hands above my head enjoying the soft pops that came from my back. I was still using Noah’s arm as a pillow and the rest of him as a blanket. He watched me wake up, a grin curling up his lips as his eyes roamed the open expanse of my skin. He laughed when my hand landed across his eyes. Untangling limbs was easier said than done and we tumbled off of each other awkwardly. I accepted his shirt. He gathered our things. We picked out way back out to the front door, nodding our mornings to the groggy people who wandered the hall.
The car ride home was silent. Music was turned too low to really hear, talking left us queasy and unpleasant. We barreled back to town, air slicing through the cracks in our windows. It wasn’t as heavy when you were going this fast. The ink on the back of my hand was smeared, the rest of my arm covered in drawings and phrases. There we so many different styles I couldn’t count how many people had written on me. Noah gave a pleased smile every time he looked at it.
I felt strange, like I had disconnected something in me by losing an entire night. It felt like forgetting something important. Something in my stomach ached and coiled. I had forgotten why but the feeling stayed. Last night had been more than a party in which underage students got to drunk to function. I hadn’t had more than two beers. Hadn’t I? Something in me told me to doubt it, something else told me to trust the instinct. I watched Noah out of the corner of my eye. It occurred to me: he didn’t look like the strange gray ghost he always did after parties. I wished I could remember.
Some corner of the room reeked of vomit and the blanket we were under smelled like something that belonged in a history book. One of the clasps on my bra was broken and I slumped back into Noah’s arm. He coiled around me breathing softly, pressing his face into the crook of my neck with a sigh. I ignored the blinking clock across from me and curled into him, fitting my awkward limbs where they pleased.
“Cather, wake up. Cather, hey.”
“What.”
A laugh sounded soft above me, “We need to get back into town. It’s past noon.”
I yawned reaching my hands above my head enjoying the soft pops that came from my back. I was still using Noah’s arm as a pillow and the rest of him as a blanket. He watched me wake up, a grin curling up his lips as his eyes roamed the open expanse of my skin. He laughed when my hand landed across his eyes. Untangling limbs was easier said than done and we tumbled off of each other awkwardly. I accepted his shirt. He gathered our things. We picked out way back out to the front door, nodding our mornings to the groggy people who wandered the hall.
The car ride home was silent. Music was turned too low to really hear, talking left us queasy and unpleasant. We barreled back to town, air slicing through the cracks in our windows. It wasn’t as heavy when you were going this fast. The ink on the back of my hand was smeared, the rest of my arm covered in drawings and phrases. There we so many different styles I couldn’t count how many people had written on me. Noah gave a pleased smile every time he looked at it.
I felt strange, like I had disconnected something in me by losing an entire night. It felt like forgetting something important. Something in my stomach ached and coiled. I had forgotten why but the feeling stayed. Last night had been more than a party in which underage students got to drunk to function. I hadn’t had more than two beers. Hadn’t I? Something in me told me to doubt it, something else told me to trust the instinct. I watched Noah out of the corner of my eye. It occurred to me: he didn’t look like the strange gray ghost he always did after parties. I wished I could remember.
♠ ♠ ♠
Got an actual PC from my dad working on transfering my files currently -A