𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 [18+]

- 5 -

Get a fucking grip, Zara.

The last thing I remember is pulling out of his grip harshly and dashing away down the hallway, putting distance between us. I ran, ran and ran. Away from him, towards the people and the crowd, where he can't catch me. A few tears stream down my ruined makeup, and I'm sure my eyes are all blurry and red. I hated him. I hated what I felt. I hated what he made me feel.

The way our noses clashed.

The way his tongue slit inside my mouth.

The way he bit my lip.

The way he pulled me closer.

As I stumbled into the party back, the air was filled with New Year's cheers and champagne pops. People are moving and dancing around with more adrenaline energy and god-knows-what-else. The atmosphere had shifted; make-out sessions became more intense and frequent. Couples engaged in passionate embraces in every corner, some in various states of undress. The cacophony of moans and screams filled the air, creating a charged and electrifying ambience that mirrored the wild festivities surrounding me.

I don't know what was going through my head. Everything was a blur. Cherry and Nick joined me after Eve had left early. I remember drowning bottle after bottle, glass after glass. Cherry was by my side, telling me to "Slow down," but all I was doing was pouring more alcohol down my throat. My eyes were blurry, and my mind was spinning. I didn't feel like myself anymore when I tried to stand up. The effects of the excessive drinking had taken over, leaving me disoriented and unsteady on my feet.

He kissed me as if he owned me.

"Come on, girl! Let's party as we've never before," Nick pulled me into the dance floor, cheering me up. The night stretched ahead, and I had nothing to lose. So I did. I drowned in drinks and jumped up and down all night long. I partied harder than I ever have in my life. After all, I've never had a New Year like this one before. The thrill of the moment and the pulsating energy of the celebration fueled a night that would linger in my memory for a long time to come.

Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

.

"Hold on to my shoulders, baby," Pen groaned, guiding and supporting me into a bedroom. A bedroom I didn't recognize? The confusion lingered as I tried to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. "Fuck, how much did you drink?" she added with concern, her voice filled with worry.

She's worried mom is going to kill her.

"I'm fine," I whispered as she managed to push me onto the bouncy mattress. The softness of the bed provided a momentary respite, but my earlier disorientation still lingered.

"You vomited three times on our way here. You managed to yell at all the people in the way. Hell, you were even going to strip in front of everyone on that dance floor. You're lucky I pulled you off at the right time. So don't fucking tell me you're fine!"