The New National Anthem (Vic Fuentes fanfic)

How to deal with drunks

KATRINA'S POV

At the lovely hour of 4 am, a handful of of people, with intoxication ranging from slightly tipsy to fucking hammered stumbled onto the bus. Of course, I was woken up from my sleep, or rather, daze, as I couldn't actually fall asleep. All the words which echoes back into the bunk around were far too slurred to be understood, not that they held any special meaning. Probably just directing each other to bed and doing whatever drunk people do. Namely, make a lot of fucking noise with or without pulling out another bottle of whiskey.

To say I was fed up would be an understatement, can't I just have one night of not-sleeping in silence?

After sliding out of my bunk, I marched right out to the main area where the drunkards had assembled. my predictions were correct about the extra alcohol being taken out, except it was a bottle vodka, not whiskey. Lucky for me, it was my favorite.

The phrase "taking candy from a baby" is nothing compared to how easy it is to take something from someone who's had a little too much. Of course, they protest lazily a bit, but in the end, all you have to do is just peel their hand off the bottle. Which is exactly what I did with Mike.

People were already passed out on the couches, although some managed to get back to their bunks, and it was thankfully quieting down. The stench of alcohol and that extra special smell you just can't get anywhere other than a club followed everyone in the room. To dumb it down a bit, you could say it smelled like a delightful mixture of "whoops, I thought you were my girlfriend" and "fuck it, I'm already drunk". Unfortunately, unlike everyone else in sight, I didn't have a drop of alcohol in my system, so I took a large gulp of the vodka I'd taken from Mike. It was strong, but just what I'd needed.

And because I was feeling extra-generous, I put a bottle of pain killers and a couple water bottles on one of the counters, where even hungover idiots could find them.

Granted, it was 4 am, and I hadn't slept at all, but the chances of me falling asleep were slim to none. Unlike every teenager on the face of the earth, I just sucked at sleeping. It took a while for me to fall asleep, and even then I would only get 5 hours. You know how some people are night people and some are morning people? Well, I'm kinda both. I stay up to ungodly hours and wake up before most would even consider being awake. I like to think of that time I have late at night and early in the morning as completely my time. No one in their right mind is awake to irritate me, which is perfect.

Me and my new friend, aka the huge bottle of Skyy vodka I'd taken from Mike, went back to my bunk. I still hadn't gotten used to the fact that it was taller than me, and getting up was a huge pain in the ass. On the other hand, someone had noticed my struggle and put a step stool near my bunk. Now that I thought about it, it was probably one of the people I kept on asking to give me a lift up to where I slept.

Anyways, it was 4 am, everyone who'd gone out drinking was passed out, or at least quiet, and I was now in possession of a large amount of alcohol. I took a couple more swallows until I was fairly certain that I would fall of I tried to stand up. My eyelids were heavy, but I had better things to do than sleep.

First things first, give myself a tiny release. Yeah, I've been clean for what, three weeks now? and yes, I was going to willingly start over again. Brandishing the tiny blade I'd taken from my pencil sharpener, I slid out of my bunk. And if you were wondering, I did fall due to the vodka I drank. I tiptoed to the bathroom and flipped on the light, and without a second thought, pulled up the hem of my shorts and made a cut. The bright red liquid I'd gotten addicted to seeing made an appearance and it wasn't long before I made more cuts.

You might be surprised to hear that I'd never cut anywhere other than my arms. Of course, that left them covered in scars and looking disgusting, but I wore long sleeves a lot anyways. Whenever I get checked for cuts, my thighs are never looked at, making it the perfect new place to play with my blade.

Blood dripped from the cuts, and I quickly wiped it up before it could come in contact with my tattoo. I dunno, I was just really careful with it. I was still planning on getting a billion more, but nobody really had the time to take me to a shop and I didn't want anyone to go out of their way for me. Cleaning up any evidence of what I had just done, I quietly walked out of the tiny bathroom. The entire bus was silent, aside from a couple snores. It kinda hit me, just then, how alone I felt. Everyone was asleep after all partying together, but here I was; alone.

My stomach was all knotted and I felt like my lungs had been ripped out. I quickly went back to the bunks, jumping up into mine without pausing. But it was too late, not that I could've done anything. Hot tears slipped from my eyes and I gasped for air. Somehow I managed to pull all my blankets around me while sobbing and I laid with my face in a pillow so no one could hear. I clutched the bottle of vodka to my chest, but didn't drink anymore, just pressing the cool glass to my scarred arms.

Everything sorta just went black. Not physically around me, of course, it was already extremely dark. But mentally, everything slowly shut down until I was out cold.