When the Masarati pulls into the curb beside my house, I stumble out and vomit in the hedges.
It tastes worse coming up than it did going down. Why did I take so many shots?
"Jesus," Trevor switches off the engine and hurries to my side. I almost catch him on saying the name of the Lord on vain, but I'm sure it wouldn't go down well. Acrid saliva drips from my lips.
He helps me up, looping an arm under my arm pits and around my shoulder blades. The cold air is still, yet makes me shiver. I feel my entire centre of gravity swaying back and forth as I lean on my boyfriend for support. Eventually, we reach the front door.
"Key?" Trevor asks and I groan in response. At this, he leans down to lift the doormat, almost causing me to fall over. I stare at the mat, trying to make sense of the words – or pictures – on it. I can't remember what it says. I've forgotten how to read.
The lock clicks and the door swings open a little too hard, thumping into the wall with a noise that bounces off the dark hallway. Darkness seems to make everything louder.
Everything is fading in and out of focus and my mouth tastes like bile and Trevor smells like cologne which may just be alcohol. Which may just be me.
More than once, I clutter into picture frames along the stairwell. That, and I continue to shush the two of us, well aware that there is no one else in the house.
I think the carpet is trying to wrap around my feet and pull me down. But finally, finally, finally, the lamp on my desk is switched on, and the carpet catches up to me. I fall down into a swaddle of covers and sigh deeply.
"Sam," Someone says. I grunt in response. My eyelids are being weighed down by my blood alcohol level, and I cannot bring myself to exist outside of my own swirling head.
That is, until, I feel a hot breath on the side of my face. Trevor kisses me sloppily on the cheek, before retreating his head into the crook of my neck. He mumbles something into my ear, hands dragging over my dress.
I arch my back to somehow ward of his touch, but he takes it as an invitation to roam his fingers over my bare skin. His lips touch my throat. "Trevor, stop it." I giggle, "I want to go to bed." The last words come out slurred.
He hesitates. Pulls away.
"Goodnight." I mutter, throwing an arm out to brush his face. I'm trying to blink, but the night is catching up with me. My body is becoming weak with sleep.
So, he gets up. He walks toward the door. Pauses to look back at me, sprawled on the bedsheets, barely conscious.
something
in his
eyes
His head flickers to the door, and he leaves. reaches out and twists the lock
YOU ARE READING
clementine
Fiksi RemajaLet's get this clear; I am not Clementine Ross. I was not her sister, or her best friend in the world, or even a person that she opened up to completely when she was devastatingly drunk one night. And every time someone solemnly asks (and this happe...
