Maybellene

4

My vision was jagged.

My head was pounding and when I tried to think about how the hell I got to my current location, it hurt. I built enough strength to look up and around the surprisingly tidy room, and saw a red head on a bean bag. She was sleeping face down.

Then I saw a brunette strewn lazily on a comforter covered chair. Innovative.

Hey, even when I'm drunk I'm smart enough to call the bed.

I reached blindly in the sheets for my phone, and I finally found it. I was at 16% and I'm pretty sure I spent almost half of my battery life just looking at my notifications.

I had several calls from Mother, and I mentally groaned about the heavy harassment I would get from her when I reached home.

I looked towards the heads of hair, and this time I counted 3. Wait no, is that a cat?

The redhead groaned loudly and slid down the bean bag. Her short dress rode up her thighs and exposed several hickeys. My eyes widened and I searched my own body for hickeys: thankfully none were found.

I now recognized the redhead as Valencia, who was now staring strangely at me. Her hair was flat against her face and the stain of red lipstick was rubbed against her whole face.

"What the hell happened last night?" She asked, highly irritable. I winced at how loud her voice sounded in my head.

"I don't know..." I responded, sure to whisper this time.

"What did you say?" Valencia asked, unaware of my sensitivity to any type of sound.

"Can you guys shutup?" The owner of the brown bed hair commanded. Her eyes squinted at Valenica, who got up to close the curtains that were allowing the sun to shine into the room.

I always wondered what it felt to be a vampire.

"I've never been so wasted in my life," Bianca complained. I was shocked. Bianca had gotten drunk many times before. I however, was a light weight.

"Where are we?" I asked, getting up from the bed. I searched for any belongings that I might have dropped last night.

"10 Cloverfield Lane." Valencia answered. I sneered at her.

I collected my heels by the door and started making my way down the stairs, barefooted. I didn't bother to say goodbye; if I said one more word my head would burst.

I closed the front door and walked down the block, looking around for a taxi. I counted $30 in my wallet, just enough to pay for it. It was windy and I was freezing, but all I was focused on was getting home.

The usual Sunday bird chirping calmed my irking
migraine, but I couldn't remember at all what the three of us had partaken in the night-- or rather the morning --before. We'd obviously gotten terribly drunk, and someone had obviously driven us home. But who, exactly? And how did Val get those hickeys on her leg?