'tis the damn season

Twenty-Three: Death By A Thousand Cuts

"Flashbacks waking me up, I get drunk but it's not enough"

Johnathan and Nancy decided that they weren't going to go to the memorial, however I realized when Steve, Robin and I walked into the house it looked anything but a respectful wake. It was a full blown house party. Half the people there were already drunk and it was only eight thirty. I knew Billy and Heather were both partiers, so I guess in a way it made sense for this to be the way their friends honoured them.

The whole room smelled like alcohol, and everywhere I turned there were people bumping into my shoulders. I did however notice that there was a heaviness to the atmosphere. Even though the people here were absolutely wasted, they still understood what it was about.

As we walked further into the house and looked a little harder at people, I noticed that nobody seemed truly happy to be there. I even noticed a couple of girls in the living room, almost in tears as they talked to their group of friends.

Naturally we made our way into the kitchen where the drinks were. Steve told us he wasn't going to be drinking so that Robin and I would have a ride home, and I knew Robin wasn't much of a drinker either. I wasn't typically a partier or even really liked the taste of alcohol, but tonight I felt like I just needed a break. I wanted to be able to loosen up a little bit.

So I grabbed the first thing I saw— vodka. I mixed it with some orange juice, and immediately took a sip. Even with the juice it burned my throat, but I drank it anyway.

I hardly realized how quickly I drank it until Steve spoke up. "Woah Laur, slow down, we just got here," he laughs, as I start pouring myself another.

"I'll be fine," I answer quickly. "Robin do you want one?"

"Sure," she shrugs.

I make two more cups of vodka and orange juice and hand one to Robin. She takes a sip and immediately her face sours. "Jesus Lauren," she practically coughs. "Are you trying to give me alcohol poisoning?"

"Sorry," I laugh. "I'm not much of a bartender."

We spend most of the night together in the backyard. There was a swing set that looked like it had been there for the past fifty years based on how rusty it was. There were three swings so we each took one, falling into easy conversation as the night grew cooler, and the party louder.

It felt like we could talk about everything, and nothing all at the same time. But today I was quieter then I normally was. While I listened to Steve and Robin talk a million words a minute, I was sipping on my drink, and people watching for the most part.

I hadn't been to a party since that one Steve, Robin and I went to a month ago, when things seemed so different to how they are now. I remember Tommy and Carol approaching us, and the fight Steve and I had later. I remember Billy practically throwing himself at me. In a weird way, I wish he was pestering me here, at this party; because at least he'd be alive.

I couldn't imagine what Max was feeling if I was this guilty about his death. I didn't find out until a day later, that Billy and Max were step siblings. It had been her horrified scream I heard after Billy ultimately fell to the floor.

It didn't seem to matter what I did, I couldn't make those images go away. I was at a party for fucks sake, I should be having fun— not wallowing in my traumatic experiences.

"I'll be right back," I tell Steve and Robin, getting up from the swing.

I don't hear their response before I've walked away, my destination back in the kitchen. Walking through the grass of the huge backyard, I realized I didn't even know whose house this was. Steve had just driven us here, and we walked in.