Reckless

Reckless - Chapter Twelve

Please remember to vote, comment and give me feedback. I didn’t get anything on my last chapter. ):

R E C K L E S S . . . 

CHAPTER TWELVE-

The moment I woke up I knew something was wrong.

Maybe it was due to the fact that I had a pounding headache, or maybe because I had no idea where I actually was. Either way, I wasn’t a particularly happy person when I sat up in the white double bed with crumpled, smudged sheets.

I looked around the room, which was illuminated by a clinically bright light that was stuck on the wall. That was the only light since what I could only assume was the window was covered by a pair of purple curtains. Except for the bed I was sat on right now, there was a purple couch with plush, garish green pillows, a dark wooden desk and set of draws, and an abstract painting whose purple and green splodges made no sense at all. The floor was the same dark purple as everything else in the room, with garish green spots placed at precise intervals. I was beginning to see a theme here.

It struck me that I had to be in a hotel room. What else could have such a terrifying colour scheme and glue everything to the walls as if it was normal? There was only one hotel in the small town by the school, so I had to draw the conclusion that I was there. It still didn’t fill in the gaping hole about how I’d got here, though. Or what had happened once I had.

The sound of a shower starting up from behind the bathroom door startled me. My head swung around to face the dark wooden door and I promptly cursed as the pounding in my head increased with the sudden movement.

I flopped back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, which thankfully was not the same design as the floor – I didn’t think that I could’ve faced staring up at that sick inducing pattern for more than two seconds.

I tried to think of what had happened the night before to bring me to this place but all that I could remember was going to Craig’s party and the rest was a hazy black blur. I hated the fact that I couldn’t remember more than anything in the world. Okay, maybe not. I probably hated a lot of things more. Like Chris.

Chris. Maybe he was there last night? There was a little nagging thought at the back of my mind that seemed to think so, but it was obscured in a heavy fog. How much had I drunk last night? I didn’t want to know.

A sudden thought struck me. What if it was Chris in the shower?

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath.

My eyes scanned the room, desperately seeking any sign of what was happening. The room didn’t have any personal details but I saw that everything looked slightly out of place and ruffled.

When I leaned over the side of the bed I saw a ragged bundle of cloth on the floor. I picked it up between my thumb and my forefinger as if it were something deadly, and then slowly held it up to see. It was my dress from the night before and it looked like it had seen better days. Several of the sequins were missing and what were left were dull and had lost their gleaming quality. The black fabric underneath the sequins had endured so many rips and tears that I was surprised it hadn’t disintegrated at my touch.

My stomach dropped as I realised that I must have been present when this had happened and whatever had happened to the dress had in some way affected me. I wondered what I could’ve done to make the dress so tattered but I didn’t want to linger on that thought for too long.

The fact that my dress was on the floor led me to look down at my body and I noticed that I was only wearing my lacy black underwear. I groaned. What had I done now?