What have I done? What have I done? What have I done?
What are you doing? You have to go back!
"I can't go back!" Zara jumped the short flight of stairs that led to the entrance of the apartment building, having tripped over her own feet. She careened onto the edge of the sidewalk, but managed to use the weight of the backpack to balance herself. Power-walking away, her heart screamed at her to go back, to help her injured grandfather, while her mind told her to run.
Out of control. Zara was out of control.
Her outbursts were becoming more and more violent. She tried to hold back, but it was like trying to subdue a beast inside her; the more it was got restrained, the more furious it became, and once unleashed it caused death and destruction in its path.
You have seriously crossed the line this time.
He will probably report you to the police for assault, and you'll have to go to juvie.
Then you can say good-bye to your dreams of being an architect, or being an anything.
You have no future now.
She needed something to erase the guilt, to numb the voices and the turmoil of her emotions.
Zara slipped into a 24-hour convenience store, and exited a couple of minutes later with a bottle of stolen Absolut vodka and a Snickers hidden underneath her hoodie. Once she was a couple of blocks away, she pulled both goods out. Zara all but ripped the packaging off the chocolate bar and wolfed down on it, swallowing entire chunks without batting an eyelid.
She licked her lips, tossed the wrapping onto the ground, and unscrewed the bottle.
A swig later, and she already felt better. The alcohol pooled at the bottom of her stomach in a warm puddle, spreading tingles through the entirety of her nervous system.
I'll go back now.
She took a step forwards and brought the bottle up to her lips again, to give her strength. Head a little fuzzy, first step a little uncertain, Zara began to make her way home.
An ambulance scurried by, sirens blaring, horn honking.
Zara spun on her heel, and began to walk away from her home.
Where are you going? Home is the other way.
"But I'm not going home," Zara slurred, a drunken smile on her face, "Grandpa is okay. Simon is okay."
She had drained a quarter of the bottle now, and it was really starting to get to her.
Zara couldn't walk in a straight line without tripping over, but bizarrely enough, it was great
Much better now. Much much better now.
Who needed friends when you have a bottle of vodka? He won't talk badly about you behind your back. On the contrary, he will make you feel good about yourself, make you feel invincible.
Zara raised the bottle in the air and tossed her head back. "A toast! To being... a complete reject!"
She stumbled sideways into a wall, her legs folding underneath her as she gracefully slid to the ground.
A sip later, and her head was lolling to one side, a block of lead on her thin neck. She focused her gaze on a crack in the sidewalk, while her hands patted around for her cellphone. "Eureka," she whispered, bringing it right up to her face so she could see the tiny green screen better.
YOU ARE READING
Deadly Secrets
General Fiction[NOW FEATURED IN GENERAL FICTION!!!] Everybody has secrets, something to hide. Some say your secrets are your blood; when you shed too much of it, you die. For Zara DeRealis, nothing is as heavy a burden as her tempestuous past. Orphaned as a young...
