The Secret Rebel (Rough Draft)

Chapter 15

I shuffled my hands, before I could even function what's going on I felt a sharp pull in my hair.

"Mother fucker!" I yelled as I tried to free my hands out of my messy hair. My fingers practically losing circulation as I tried to free them of the red mess, but to my luck, I was able to free a hand within a minute.

Once I had freed my hands, I sat up instantly the night before's wrath hitting me like that knife did. I chuckled as the memory sifted into my thick head my hair dropping heavy around me.

"Why the fuck did I do that?" I gently placed my forehead to my hand and shook it lightly, a wide stupid smile adorning my probably pale face. Letting the hangover fully take its effect I laid back down, letting the hot sun cook me like it does cookies in Arizona. Man I wish got cold out here, all it does is get hot and dry, plus the occasional rainstorm here and there.

I stopped thinking for a moment as my head started to pulsate and my stomach started to churn. Letting out a low groan I moved to my side and laid my head on the grass,

"Oh fuck"I blurted out as vomit fro protruded from the back of my throat, the burning acid added to another burning feeling that for some reason I can't place. Oh wait, I can place it, fucking l.

I did fucking coke, like cocaine, oh my god.

As I continued to expel my guts and anything that could have possibly made me human, my headache only got worse. So bad that I feel it in my eyes, burning as if they're going to invert on themselves. Quickly squeezing my eyes close, my eyes forced tears themselves. I feel like a baby. Where am I anyway? Does it really matter? No, not really? Laying on the grass and my own vomit I sighed.

*click*

Feeling my ears twitch to the sound of a door opening I stayed still, hoping I'm not anywhere too dangerous.

"May?" I gave a rough huff from my nose as i heard Gray timidly speak. Not having the energy to speak I gave a light shrug, trying to ignore the feeling of needing to puke. Well, this is definitely not how I planned the start of my Sunday morning.

"You need help?" He questioned quietly, bluntly ignoring him I stayed still on the ground, trying to let the clammy hot feeling of sickness leave me. I felt an arm wrap around under my arm, that did me no justice as I started to vomit as he lifted me.

"Jesus May, what the fuck did you?" He said quietly, but somehow sounded like he was screaming into an endless void. Still not answering his questions I let him hold me, as if I really had a choice.

"Are you done now?" Still not doing anything to indicate a reply, he took a step. Instantly the throbbing became worse, and the only thing I can do is cry, why does this hurt so much. This is pathetic. I want more, wait no, no I don't, yes you do.

Trying to ignore my thoughts and the feeling of being carried on, I put my focus on nothing, embracing the sweetness of nothing. Then something became very acute to my own senses, a loud and obnoxious cry, oh wait that's me. Mentally huffing at my own humility, I tried to forget about that and went back to focusing on nothing. Well I guess nothing is better than something sometimes.

It seemed like a decade before We made it to my room, and when we got there he oh so grasoiusly dropped me to the ground like a hot potato.

"You're getting heavy"

"Maybe you're just getting weak" I muttered out, using most, if not all of my will power to rise from the dead and clobber the ignorant boy before me. Doesn't he know it's rude to tell a lady she's heavy? Internally groaning I heaved myself up, balancing myself on nothing trying my hardest to not pass out from dehydration or something of the sort.