Taste of Ms. Alexander (On Hold)

Chapter 14 - Still Tasting Last Night

Amanda Alexander
Wednesday | 8:26 am

A relentless ache hammered against my skull as I forced myself upright from the cold bathroom floor. The disorienting blur of last night still clouded my memory. I couldn't remember when I'd fallen asleep, or the number of times I'd emptied my stomach into the toilet. All I knew was that I was a mess. My clothes were stained with evidence of my reckless night, streaked across my chest and down to my jeans.

I slumped back down onto the floor, desperate for a moment of relief, but each movement caused my head to split open even further. I cursed myself again for mixing white and dark liquor like an amateur. Last night my mind was still tangled in the mess that was Spragga, refusing to let me forget any of it. He wasn't worth it, never was, but somehow, I let him drag me back down into his chaos. I should've known better. I always should, but like an idiot, I let myself get swept up in it. Looks like I've been digging this hole my whole life.

Somehow, I found the strength to pull myself up, grabbing onto the face basin for support. The woman in the mirror was unrecognizable, a mere ghost of myself. My wig was gone and my hair a tangled mess of stale cornrows, a painful reminder of the night's disaster. Maybe it was time to change, to move on, and to just let it go.

Right now, though, I just wanted to feel human again.

I gripped the edge of the sink as the pain in my head intensified, threatening to pull me right back into the darkness. Closing my eyes, I pressed my fingers to my temples and massaged them in slow circles, hoping for even the slightest relief.

For a moment, it worked.

Then the pain returned just as hard, like it had never left.

I turned on the faucet and splashed some cold water over my face, hoping it would help clear the fog in my head. Brown streaks of makeup ran from my skin, swirling around the basin before disappearing down the drain.

I stared at the mess for a second, almost laughing at how fitting it was. Somehow, even trying to clean myself up, I was only adding to the chaos around me.

I opened the mirrored cabinet and rummaged around until I found the makeup remover wipes. Pulling one from the pack, I wiped away what was left of last night from my face.

I had no idea what time it was, and honestly, I didn't care. I just needed to pull myself together enough to function.

Once my skin felt cleaner, I dragged myself into the shower. The warmth of the steam filled the small space, wrapping me in a momentary sense of comfort. However, even the simple act of scrubbing my skin felt harsh. My movements were more aggressive than usual as I tried to get rid of every trace of last night.

Every thought of what happened made me cringe and my stomach turn. The scent of vomit was still there, clinging to me, and I couldn't scrub it away fast enough. The disgust twisted in my gut, but somehow, I held it together. I brushed my teeth furiously, trying to scrub the sour taste from my mouth, as if from my very being.

When I finally stepped out of the shower, my body felt like it had been beaten, but at least I smelled like shea butter and warm vanilla. It was a small victory in the middle of a larger storm.

I staggered to my bedroom, the headache still pounding away like a drum in my skull. My feet felt so heavy, each step a struggle to hold myself together. I knew there were ibuprofen pills in the bedside table. So I reached for the bottle, but when I shook it, nothing rattled inside.

"Ughhh...FUCK," I groaned in frustration and tossed the bottle across the room in anger.

The pain wasn't easing. It was only getting worse. My head was on fire, and I needed relief, any kind of release. My only hope now was the shop across the road. If it was open, maybe I could find something to stop the madness.