HYSTERIA

FORTY ONE - BAD REPUTATION

BAD REPUTATION - JOAN JETT & THE BLACKHEARTS

"It never gets better, anyway, so why should I care about a bad reputation?"

ARIEL CALLAWAY

I lean against the cool bar countertop, wiping it clean. You know, it's funny, I spent all day pouring drinks for other people, laughing with them, pretending I'm okay... but all I can think about is escaping. Just one night to forget.

It's like clockwork. I finish my shift, and the only thing on my mind is hitting a bar down the street. It feels safer there– like if I drown out the noise and the lights, I can forget about Louis– Harry... everything.

Growing up, it was always chaos at home. My dad's anger, his disappointment... his alcoholism. I know things like that can run in families, but I never thought I would be susceptible to something so severe.

I remember hiding in my room, trying to drown out the shouting with music, wishing I could just disappear. Now, it's like I'm doing the opposite. I'm chasing that numbness, thinking a few drinks will wash everything away. But it just makes it worse. I see them in every goddamn reflection, every glass– Harry's face twisted in anger, disappointment, and hurt.

I don't want to end up like him. I don't want to be a ghost in my own life. But when I'm standing here, surrounded by laughter and clinking glasses, it's hard to remember why I shouldn't.

I just want a break. Just one night where I don't have to think about the past or what I'm running from. But deep down, I know it's a trap. It's like I'm reaching for a quick fix, and it's only pulling me deeper into darkness.

Then there's Louis. His texts are relentless, and honestly, they're driving me mad. I don't remember that night with him. I just woke up with this awful realization that I'd crossed a line I never thought I would. I never would've cheated on Harry if I was thinking straight. Fuck, is that even cheating? We were exclusive, but not official. Fuck. I'm so confused.

Every time my phone buzzes, it's like he's twisting the knife. I want to scream at him to stop, to just leave me alone. Can't he see how much I'm struggling? Instead, I just keep ignoring him, hoping he'll take the hint, but the guilt is suffocating.

The scent of spilled liquor and old wood fills the air as I clean up the mess made today. There's a familiar, comforting, buzz in my veins from the drinks I've been spiking all day, a mix of adrenaline and that gnawing need to escape.

Finally free from work, I don't even bother going home to change out of my work clothes, I just need to forget. My hair is still frizzy and messy from my shift, and my black top has spots of alcohol, my ripped jeans damp from something unknown.

Miles gives me a concerned look as I grab my bag, but I brush it off. I just want to lose myself in the chaos, drown out the thoughts of Louis and Harry, the guilt twisting like a knot in my stomach.

Stepping outside, the night air hits me like a splash of cold water– refreshing, invigorating, the weight of everything pressing down on me like a lead blanket.

As I walk towards one of the next bars, the neon lights flicker, casting a warm glow that feels almost magical. I can hear the laughter and music spilling out onto the street, an intoxicating invitation. I'm ready to dive in to lose myself in the noise and warmth. No questions, no consequences– just me and the night ahead.

☆ ☆ ☆

The bar is alive with energy, and I can feel the pulse of the music vibrating through the floor. I sit at the bar with a drink in front of me—something tequila-based, sharp and citrusy. Honestly, I don't even care what it is. It's just a way to wash away the day.