Wake Me Up

Chapter Six: A Hopeless Place

"Where were you?" Holly asked as soon as I stepped through the door of the hotel room, kicking my shoes off. I shrugged, settling down into one of the cushioned chairs besides her and massaging my sore feet.

"Out." I retorted, smirking at her. She scoffed, shaking her head and taking a sip from the glass I hadn't noticed. Of course I should have expected this- I didn't want to be confronted by a drunk friend, though. "How many of those have you had?"

"A few?" She responded snarkily, swishing the thick, red liquid around in the wide glass. I rolled my eyes, picking my hair up and slipping it into a messy bun.

"How many?"

"7." She yelled, standing up. "But that's besides the point! You went out again without telling me, and you didn't even bring your phone! What am I supposed to make of that?! You could have been kidnapped! What would I have done then?" She exclaimed, flailing her arms about. I smirked, shaking my head and standing up.

"You could have gotten drunk and ended up on the side of the road, drunk and lost," I replied, frowning. "For fuck's sake, Holly! I haven't got my whole life set on taking care of you, okay? My life is about me. I don't need to tell you everything damn thing about it, okay? It's not about you! It's never been about you!" I screamed, kicking the chair leg. Ow.... I watched as her eyes began to water; her lip begin to tremble; her jaw begin to clench as she balled her hands into fists, finally registering my words.

"You've never been a friend to me," She said adamantly, her jaw tensing. I scoffed, shaking my head, a jarring look falling over my features as a blanket would over a mattress.

"What?" I asked, my oddly discolored eyebrows raising high on my forehead, lines of disbelief forming. "You have the nerve to say that to me? You think I've never been a friend to you?" I asked, livid with anger as I slowly advanced towards her. She couldn't say that to me. She couldn't possibly be that moronic, that she would believe I am not a friend to her. I have been nothing but a friend to her! If what I have been doing isn't what a friend does, then I don't know the definition of the word, but I sure as hell believe I do.

"I bet you don't even know my favorite color," She stated indignantly, her arms crossing over her chest, a glare looming across the room.

"Yellow." Her eyes widened in shock, her body losing posture for a moment before she regained her confidence.

"How about my birthday?"

"January 7th. We went to a bar where you didn't neglect to get drunk and get taken home by a man whom neither of us knew, without me knowing."

"Get out," She demanded suddenly, pointing at the door.

"What?"

"You heard me. I said get out. I want you out. I don't ever want to see your fat ass again. Get out of my hotel room. Get out of my fucking life! I hate you, Cara Marie Rowan!" She screamed, picking up my dufflebag and whipping it at me. I caught in a swift movement. It drooped in my arms. I nodded, slowly, picking up my suitcase and walking away, looking back at her once more with raised eyebrows.

"Out." She commanded, her finger still pointed. I nodded once, sucking in a breath as I walked out the door, shutting it behind me and leaning against it. Sinking to the floor slowly, I slipped my phone out of my coat pocket. I dialed the one; the only person I knew in Spain that might just understand my dilemma.

"Hello? Cara?" Their voice croaked out. I sighed, my eyes watering as I let out a shaky breath. At least they answered.

"Sorry for calling so late... But could you- could I come over? I mean... I know we just met, but I've got nowhere else to go and... I just don't know what to do." I cried, pulling my knees to my chest. I don't know how this happened. This was the first fight Holland and I have ever had- we've never fought. No matter how many times I've felt like slapping her until her eyes caved in, we've never fought.