Falling for the Mailman

nine//Clash

Hello!
Sometimes I just need a simple visual to fully imagine scenes from books, so I just wanted to share this with you guys. I imagine Monique's apartment to have a view like this. Gorgeous!

Sophia Mattson
Saturday

If looks could kill, the ceiling fan I see when I open my eyes would burst into flames.

A huge, ugly groan escapes my mouth when my mind registers just how much pain I'm in.

But that's what vodka goes to you, I guess. And there's an empty bottle next to my head so...

"Shut up, will you? My head hurts." I freeze when I hear her voice. She mumbles other things, interesting choices of words.

My head falls back on the pillow.

"Ow," I moan quietly.

When will I learn? I need to stop drinking... so much.

My head feels like it's been slammed into a brick wall fifty times.

I shuffle along wherever it is I'm lying, but soon a bright light is everything I see.

I cower away from the light and mutter cuss words under my breath as I slowly get to my feet.

Looking around, I figure out we must have passed out on the couch, but I'm the only one still there. She must've fallen off sometime during the night, but whenever it was, she certainly doesn't show any signs of discomfort.

Eyeing Monique suspiciously, I wonder what she'll think of me still being here.

She obviously isn't in the right mind set at the moment, unlike me, whose mind is racing.

Do I leave without telling her, wake her up, talk to her maybe?

I see her face is half buried in a cushion; the other half is covered in smeared mascara and lipstick.

Sighing to myself, I turn and walk toward where I think the bathroom is. I look over my shoulder at Monique. She's totally out.

Deciding my clothes don't smell that bad, I take a quick shower and change back into my old clothes.

When I come out, Monique is in the kitchen. Her face is clean, at least, but her eyes are drooped, her movements slow.

I sit on a hardwood bar stool with a black leather cushion and find a crystal glass sitting next to a white pill.

On closer inspection, I figure out there's a banana smoothie in the glass and the pill is for the headache.

I'm a bit skeptical to consume the pill, though. Call me crazy, but pills, Monique and I do not mix.

But that's a story for another day.

She suddenly looks expectantly between the pill and me. Gulping, I take a sip of the smoothie and swallow the pill.

"So listen," I'm slightly startled when she speaks.

Breathing out, she continues, "about last night. You needed a favour and had no one else to turn to, so I helped you out with the guns. But this does not mean we're all good. And I can't have you going around thinking we're suddenly best friends."

I nod my head and open my mouth to say something, but she interrupts.

"And if you ever tell anyone about my armoury, you'll be sorry."

I know better than to say anything, it'll only aggravate her further. She's clearly rethinking her hospitality towards me.

With one final menacing stare, I assume it's my cue to leave.