Drown For Me//Colson Baker

two

"Why do you always have to ruin everything?"

I felt immediate exhaustion as his rude question left his mouth. Here we go, I thought to myself.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, glaring at him as he looked at the road ahead. He didn't reply to me. Instead, he just rolled his eyes and let out an agitated breath. So I asked, "How do I fucking ruin everything?"

At this point, we had been arguing off and on all day long. I was tired of his stupid comments and of feeling like I had to defend myself constantly. I wanted nothing more than to get away from him. Part of me was actually excited for this party because I knew he'd be on his usual routine and ditch me for his flock of friends. 

"You always bitch about everything, it's annoying." He explains, finally looking at me and seeing the pure irritation on my face, "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything, but it's the truth."

Oh sure, I thought. Peter says it is true, so it must be. I sat there without saying anything and stared through the window for the rest of the car ride. Pete eventually turned the music volume up, and we didn't speak. This was a weekly thing; he would insult me when he was upset, and I would take it. It's an old routine, and it was so annoying to endure all the time. 

It's getting old.

"Fuck you, Pete," I said bluntly, looking over at him as he rolled his eyes.

"Why did you even come? You should've stayed at home." He spat, making me even more upset. He had a way of making me feel so small, smaller than I already felt. I knew I sometimes had the same effect on him. I wasn't happy with this dynamic, but it's just how we worked. I was his punching bag, verbally. And he was mine. 

"Oh, don't worry, Peter, It'll be like I'm not even there, you dickhead."

"Get out. We're here, " he said as he approached a house with what looked like a million cars.

I rolled my eyes and got out of the car, seeing the scene of drunk people stumbling around, hearing loud music with heavy bass, and the abandoned red solo cups scattered around the lawn. It looked like all of Hollywood was at this party, which was typical for an MGK party. 

But I was right; when he got one step into the house, he disappeared into a crowd with his friends, leaving me behind as if I wasn't even there. I sighed, knowing I was alone for the whole night. It was a lonely feeling, but it felt freeing to finally escape the constant jabs Pete had been taking at me all day. I tried to make my way through the crowd to get to a place that wasn't crowded, and eventually, I made it to the kitchen.

It was still rather crowded, but I could breathe better in there. I decided it'd be a good time for a drink, so I poured a cup full of whatever was closest and took small sips, feeling the burn and chemical taste of the liquid run down my throat. After swallowing, I scrunched up my face before someone bumped into me. I groaned as they drunkenly apologized, and people started to pile into the kitchen for refills.

I pushed through the kitchen and tried to be polite to the people bumping into me. But it was hard, and I couldn't help but grow irritated. Then I found the stairs and walked up, hoping fewer people would be there. But, of course, there were still many people up there. As I said, it felt like all of Hollywood was piled in here, making this vast mansion feel so small. 

I hated parties, mostly because I was always alone at them, but it also made my anxiety worse. Without more than five minutes of space does a toll on me, and I was searching for a vacant room to chill out for the remainder of the party. As I walked through the hallway, another person bumped into me yet again, this time spilling their drink all over my dress, causing me to gasp at the sudden cold of the liquid hitting me.