Never Letting Go

Chapter 4

                   

Between the pinging noise coming from somewhere near my head and the constant banging on something hard from somewhere outside the room I'm in, I wish it would all just stop.

I want to say it's all in my head but it's not. I'm not hungover that much but I wish I was so all the sounds I'm hearing would disappear with a few paracetamol and a day in bed resting the pain I've inflicted on myself with the mixing of different alcoholic drinks.

"Someone make it stop!"

I don't open my eyes immediately at the muffled sound of Allison's voice coming from the floor close by. Instead, I take my time to turn onto my side and force myself to faintly open my eyes to look at the floor.

Allison is lying on her stomach with both hands holding a pillow over her head, almost like she's trying to suffocate herself between the pillow she's holding and the one she's resting her head on. She's tightly wrapped up in a blanket that she seems to have somehow rolled into.

The pinging sound stops for a moment before starting up again.

"Kaylee, make it stop. I beg of you."

I groan loudly and flop back onto my back, an arm falling over my eyes to stop the bright sunlight from hurting my eyes anymore than it already is. "You make it stop."

"It's not my front door that's being rattled off it's hinges," she retorts.

"As it is that it's not my phone that keeps pinging."

Allison grumbles something before shuffling about on the floor. The pinging noise stops but the banging on the front door doesn't.

"Your turn," she huffs.

I guess it is.

I roll off the bed, kicking the duvet and cushions onto the floor as I go, and stumble my way to the front door. My left hand doesn't leave the wall as I'm using it for balance as a way of keeping myself upright.

My hands fumble with both the latch and key on the door before I open it to look at the occupant that's behind the banging on the door.

"Mrs. Blane, what can I do for you?" I ask through narrowed eyes at the middle-aged woman standing before me.

She seems pissed off but I can't tell. I can faintly make out her neatly pulled back light brown hair that's pinned up in a way that screams both elegance and power. As to why she stays here, I don't know. She has a way of always dropping her job title into a conversation when it' not needed.

No one needs to be remembered that she's high up in a big fashion store and drives a flashy car that isn't that flashy when you see it. No one cares and that's what gets to her to the most. She's a no one to everyone away from her workplace and she hates it. She hates it that much that it makes her an easy target to piss off which it great when you're on the ball. Not so great when you're hungover like I am right now.

"There is a car waiting outside that has blocked my car in," she begins to rant. I lean further into the door, sensing she's far from being over with her rant. "The driver of it is claiming to be waiting for you." My eyes open widely. She has my full attention despite the light from the hallway sending a pain through my head. "However, seeing as your friend passed me with a bag full of alcohol last night and by the look of you, I know you are both hungover and I won't be leaving anytime soon for work."

"Do you have a point, Mrs. Blane?" I rub my eyes and blink a few times and focus on looking at her.

"I want you either you or your friend to go down and tell the man to move his car so I can get out!" She half shouts.