Drunken Love (ON HOLD)

Chapter 3 - Bathroom Small Talk

>unedited<

I leaned over the toilet, my forehead sweaty my palms slipping off of it. For about the third time I vomited into the toilet, laying my head back on the wall. My head was dripping, my hands shaking. I took sharp breaths at a time, trying to help.

My back was against the wall, just as Hannah did the same thing I had done. I ran my fingers through my rat nest hair, the headache still her. Hannah gulped, and leaned back against the opposite wall of mine. My pulse was beating fast, as I licked my dry lips. Hannah opened her drowsy eyes, only to look at me.

"First week," she breathed, "always the hardest." I now understood the reasoning behind why there was a pack of water on the chair in the corner. I used my shaking hands to open the bottle of water, taking small sips. My head was pounding.

Everything looked so blurry, everything. I saw Hannah move to the toilet repeating her previous action. I looked down at the floor tiles. How much have they witnessed, how many times have they seen kids go through all of this? My vision became blurry, my mind drifting off.

 

"I fucking told you to never look at my stuff, and what do you do? You look through the goddam messages on my phone, Emma!" He gripped my neck pushing me against the wall.

"Mike, stop." My voice cracked under his grip. He slapped my face, but my screams got caught in his wrath.

"How dare you! Who the hell do you think you are?!"

"I didn't look through your phone." I said through a shaky breath.

"Then why did I see you on my phone!"

"You told me," I gulped, "you told me to answer your mom's text. And when I opened it up...I saw the messages." I remember looking at all the messages of her saying how well he did that night, how she craved more. How he said I wouldn't find out.

"You read them, fuck!" He breathed, slapping me again.

"How could I not? It was about me." I shut my eyes, trying to hold in the tears. He slapped me again, and again, and again.

 

I moved over the toilet, releasing my water bottle. All the alcohol I took every night, my body isn't used to not consuming it. They don't tell you how hard it is to overcome it. Any of it. I let go of the toilet, moving back to the wall. Hannah was sitting there, looking up.

Without thinking, I took some of the water and poured it on my head. It ran down my face, soothing my sweat. "Are you okay?" Hannah asked me, her voice breathy.

"No. Are you?"

"No." I rubbed my mouth, feeling as though my pain had stopped for at least a little bit. "Sorry I was acting like a bitch earlier."

"It's fine." My pulse was slowing down slightly, the room still blurry. I could barely look at Hannah straight without seeing three heads. I knocked my head on the wall behind me, staring up.

I opened the liquor bottle, alone outside the gas station. My face was all bruised and beat up. I looked older for my age, allowing the foreign man at the gas station to believe I was 21.

I had never had liquor before, but people said it helped. I brought the opening to my lips, allowing myself to swallow it. The burning sent shivers throughout my whole body, but soon I forgot about Mike. I drank more, my mid feeling sloppy.