Another Power of the Pen story...but I forgot what the prompt was sooo....enjoy, check out my other stuff, fan, vote, comment. THANKYOUVERYMUCHHAVEAGOODLIFE!
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The faint light from the old lamp penetrated your cool, mahogony depths and cast a blood-red shadow onto the table. There you sat in that glass. Not touched by anyone's greedy lips, not tasted by any longing tongue. You sat in that glass, untouched, but wanted so badly.
Peering into your mysterious depths, I lost focus and was brought to the first time I ever felt your cruel happiness slide down my throat.
Music was booming from the speakers, but everyone was too self-concious to dance. Instead, they were all in little packs scattered around his basement, talking about who was dating who, the outfit that creepy girl wore on Thursday, who turned out to be gay, and so many other pointless topics.
I stood alone in the corner. People came over to talk to me, but I pushed them away, only to regret it moments later. I pretended to be texting someone too important to come to this party, but I was really just typing random things, erasing them, standing around for a minute, and repeating the process. Andrea was somewhere upstairs with this week's boyfriend. A dorky boy with big ambitions that doesn't quite understand the cruelty of the world we live in. The boy was probably meeting the people he had always laughed with in class, but never could talk to. But because of his V. I. P. girlfriend, he was able to for this night only. Leaving me alone in a dark basement with no one I really wanted to talk to.
I felt someone tap my shoulder, "Hey, Alicia," it was James, from math class, "You doin' alright?"
The smell of putrid alchohol radiated off of him. At that moment in my life I was repulsed by it. But now I found it inviting. "Oh, y-yeah I"m fine," I remembered saying to him, not looking into his eyes.
He stared at me for a few moments, while I pretended to send another text. When quite suddenly, he shouted over his shoulder, "HEY! DEREK! Hook this fine young woman up with some of the goods!"
"The what?" I asked, slightly worried
But before he could answer, a beer bottle was thrusted into my hands and Derek walked away with a wink.
I looked up at James, "No, no I don't want it. Here..." I tried to hand it back, but he wouldn't take it.
"Trust me. It helps." And with that, he too departed
I stared at the bottle for a few seconds. Then, after checking to see if anyone was looking, I turned away and took a long swig.
But now, as I stare at the glass of wine, I wish I were back at that party, taking my first sip, back when I could really drink my problems away. But after 10 long years of alchohol abuse, I've been told to never do it again.
In an instant, I felt his fist connect with my cheek, even though it had happened hours before. The memory being almost as painful as the event its self.
Becoming aware of the bruise forming on my face, I raised the glass to my lips.
