Degradation

REALISATION

I open my eyes. I look at the cold ceiling above me.

I feel like 'cold' isn't the way to put it. I describe every single part of my life as 'cold'.

My hands feel cold, but you don't have to feel things to know what they are.

I mean, my father looks like the perfect human being, with the warmest face and the thick soft, dark hair that surrounds his skull.

But he's got the coldest heart. Freezing, in fact.

And I spent my life, my whole entire life, thinking it would thaw.

I wince in pain, as my back feels like its being stabbed with a blunt knife. I don't remember passing out on the floor.

I turn my neck. My blurred vision subsides and clears.

I let out a groan as I force myself upwards.

As soon as I get up, I feel a heaviness in my stomach forcing its way up.

I scramble on my knees, looking around for a bathroom. But I can't wait any longer.

I reach for the nearest shoe and feel vomit push itself out of my mouth. Lucky for me that this shoe was big enough.

I grimace my eyes in disgust as the shoe becomes soggy. I place it beside me, and I check my watch.

I place my head in my hands as nausea weighs down on my stomach. I check my jeans for anything, but all I found was one single piece of gum.

I undo the wrapper and toss it a couple of meters away from me. I throw it into my mouth and look over at the wrapper slowly rolling to a double-sized bed.

My eyes squint against the scorching light coming through the cheap dorm curtains as I slowly get up. I run my hands over my bare chest as my goosebumps start to raise.

Suddenly, I hear shuffling over in the bed as dark long hair begins to emerge from under the bedsheets.

I scratch my head slightly and walk over, not taking my eyes off this person.

"Who are you?"

A body jumped under the bed and her face emerged. Taylor's.

She had lovely skin, her freckles dotted on her nose and cheeks. Her lips were a shade of rosy red, but it clearly looked as if she had seen better days.

Her eyeliner was smudged all over her eyes and some lipstick was smudged on her neck.

"What are you doing here, Taylor?" I hissed quickly at her.

She slowly sat up, drawing the bedsheet covers so tightly up to her neck.

She looked deeply into my eyes, but her face quickly darted to the door.

"This isn't your dorm, Damon."

I looked up and over to the door. It was true. My dorm was about five dorms down.

I scanned my eyes around the room, looking for some sort of top to put on me.

A blue and orange T-shirt lay on the bed. It was mine.

I walked over to the empty side of the bed and slowly picked up the shirt.

"Did we--"

"No, Damon. We just- just kissed, that's all."

My eyes dropped to the floor in disgust.

"Fucking hell, Taylor. Me and you..." I croaked, almost wrenching again.