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ILLUMINATE Shawn Mendes Chapter-5
I wake up on this morning to hear loud music thumping onto the ceiling downstairs. "Can you keep it down?" I yell, shoving my flat, uncomfortable pillow on my face and around to my ears to block out the sound.
The music slowly dies and I can feel the stomping steps of running up the stairs. "You're awake, finally." My mum comes in my room dressed... casually? "Get up, we're going out."
I groan and pull the white covers over my head, only for them to be snatched away. "What the heck, does it ever occur to you that I'm human and need sleep?"
"Just get up, today we are celebrating your birthday."
"Awe, no. You don't have too." I insisted. I'm missing something, aren't I? "Wait a damn minute.. my birthday isn't for another week." I squint at her, sprawling myself across the bed, stretching.
"Well yes, but you clearly said that you wanted to go see your father on that week. So today we're celebrating, and when you go with Manuel, you can do what you please." She clutches my leg and playfully attempts to pull me from my bed.
"Fine." I groan and laugh simultaneously at how she's actually trying to spend quality time, "wait, I have school, can we celebrate a bit later?"
"Shawn Peter Raul Mendes, lighten up, I've already cleared your absence for today." She says as if it were okay to miss school for something like a 'birthday'.
I sit up and embrace her. "I'm sorry for being an ass to you. You don't deserve it."
She barley smiles and leaves my room with her head down. I stretch my body before getting dressed up in casual attire and I go down to the kitchen.
"has your father rang you lately?"
"No, why?" I carefully open the fridge to find the cliche apple, reluctantly there was none. I slide open the bottom drawer to examine what other foods we have, closing it, i look onto the top shelf, seeing a slice of pizza on a paper plate.
"No specific reason. Now let's go, we're going to be late." She grabs my hand and drags me out before I could place the pizza in the microwave, locking the front door after we're out.
-
"Put this on." She hands a blindfold for me to put on. "You're cliché, mum." I say as I tie the blindfold around my head.
She stops the car and opens her door. The passenger door opens and I think fast and get a grip onto the seat before I could fall out, due to me leaning on the door. "Nice one, Karen."
We walk and walk, for what seems a while, and she snatches the blindfold off my head, pulling some of my hair.
"A bar? Seriously?" I rub my head, running my fingers through my aching head.
"Well yeah, since you're turning eighteen in a few days, you're legally allowed to drink." She smiles. THIS IS NOT OKAY. What kind of mother takes her son to a bar, for his supposed birthday?
"I know, but I can't. I want at least one of us sober enough to drive." I formulate a lie so I wouldn't have to buy into whatever she was planning. "And what would dad think if he found out?"
"I don't care what your father thinks. Now let's go have fun." She drags me into the bar like one of those cliche girlfriends going to a party for the first time; it reeked of alcohol, smoke, sweaty bodies and other disgusting smells I'd wish to not inhale.
Once we were in, my mom leaves me alone to roam around. Also cliche. A lady, probably in her twenties, bumps into me and I politely help her to a seat.
"Thank you." She drunkenly smiles at me, looking me up and down. Not that there is much to look at.
I turn on my heels to leave her and she gets a hold my shirt and asks if she could buy me a drink.
"I don-"
"Please?" She pouts her red stained lips and I give in, to show that I didn't want to be rude to such a pretty face.
"Yo, get this cutie some tequila." I keep my face composed, aware of her scrutiny as I listen to her demand for a glass of alcohol. Tequila to be exact. I grew very still at that word. I'm sure she notices, but she went on without pausing.
The bartender gives a glance and nods his head, second guessing my age. I don't blame him, I would too.
He sets the drink before me and I could already feel the guilt building up inside me. Knots form in the back of my throat and in the pit of my stomach, I was frightening myself at the possible things that could happen if I down it.
I stare down the drink and I pick at my nails nervously. My heart was telling me no, don't do this and my mind was telling me to live a little.
I turn my gaze back to the girl aside me, she nods in reassurance. I wrap my fingers around the medium size glass and took a sip. The taste was horrible and throat burning.
She watches, a gorgeous smile upon her face, satisfied. I slowly swallow the rest of the liquor and my eyes shut from the disgusting taste.
"I'm sorry, I just can't." I push the drink away in her direction and went outside to get some air. I force a finger down my throat, impressing pressure to throw up.
Vomiting was uncontrollable for me. Once I start, there's no going back. One hand was propped up on my knee, and the other was flat on a wall, holding me up. As I bent over, my lunch from yesterday, plus many other liquids came shooting from my throat like a water hose.
I check the time on my phone, realising I had madison's game to attend, I made a run all the way to school; which was only 2 miles away.
