This Won't End Well.

II

I didn't remember last night, and even though I'm not used to drinking, I don't think that one shot means lights out.

I felt strange. My head was pounding, and my whole body was buzzing. Like the kinda buzzing you get right after an energy high, or a adrenaline rush.

I stayed in bed for a second before a sick feeling cane over me. I rushed into the bathroom before falling hard onto my knees on the black and white tiled floor.

I opened the lid to the toilet, and it felt like my spirit was leaving my body. It sounded like someone was dumping a pitcher of water in to another. My eyes were blurry with tears and pain.

When it finally stopped I could hear my back crack as I leaned my elbows against the bowl of the toilet. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, and looked on the bowl for a short moment.

It was pure black.

I had no way to rationalize it all, so like all of my other problems, I flushed it and forgot it all happened.

I could hear Celia making breakfast, and listening to the local news in the living room.  There was a bunch of jumbled words that I couldn't make out, so I didn't sit to listen to them.

"Let's go drinking, Greyson! It will be fun, Greyson!" I mocked as I splashed water in my face. I coughed and my throat burned in protest."Why the hell is this sink so low?" I murmured as I brushed my face off with the hand towel. My knees felt weak, and I couldn't tell if it was from being sick or from my landing. But either way, they felt like they were going to snap.

I walked out of the bathroom, and into the kitchen. Celia didn't look away from the TV screen. There was some breaking news about a murder near where we were last night.

"There's breakfast on the counter," Celia said. Her hair was a mess, and it was all tied back into a bun. Normally when I see her she has her makeup on, so seeing her without any was a pleasant surprise. I guess that's what I should have expected whilst living with a girl.

I walked over and grabbed the French toast off of the counter and went to sit down. Celia stared at me, and I uncomfortably took a bite of the toast.

"Look, Celia, I don't know if breakfast food fits you off but you can't be doing this if we're living together."

She slowly got up and I watched as she went to the kitchen. She walked backwards looking at me I till she was at the knife block. She snatched a cleaver out of the wood and pointed it at me.

"Who the hell are you?" She screeched at the top of her lungs.

"What the hell do you mean? Put that knife up!"

"What have you done to Greyson! Where is he, you bastard!" She drew her arm back and chucked the cleaver in my direction. Luckily it didn't land in anything and just slid on its side across the hard wood.

"What the- what the fuck do you think your doing?" I shouted looking up from the cleaver. I stood up and started walking over. "It's me, Greyson Holmes! We've been friends for like forever!"

"Liar!" She spat and dashed for yet another sharp object.

"Celia, it's me. Grey!" I put my hands up in the air. "Do you remember freshman year you had a crush on that senior Dean Morris?"

"Yeah, and so what? Basically my whole school knows that. How does this tell me you're Grey?"

"He rejected you, and I went with you to slash the tires of his car. I said that I would never do anything like that again, because I had never done anything bad in my life. And then I puked on their cat because of the adrenaline and the anxiety. You let me stay at your house and eat ice cream to make up for it."

She didn't say anything, but she dropped the knife. It clanged against the floor and she looked confused. "Greyson?"

"Yeah, that's what I've been telling you this whole time. What the hell is going on?"

"Did you not look at the mirror this morning?"

"I never look in the mirror."

"That explains a lot. You should definitely go and do that." She said, and I took a step back. I walked back into the bathroom and turned on the lights with my eyes shut. I didn't open them until I was in front the mirror.

Slowly I opened my eyes. Almost like there was going to be a grisly accident when I opened them.

"...holy shit." I murmured. I leaned into the counter and brought one hand up to my face. I felt everything, but it was a different face. A very nice face, but it wasn't mine.

I had also noticed that I wasn't at my comfortable height of 5'8". No, at this point I had to at least be 6'4".

I took the same hand and lifted up my shirt. I murmured the same words again. It wasn't my body, no where near being that way either. It was slightly tanner, and it looked like it was a nice sports car. Curves and dips that were perfectly crafted that all disappeared below the waste band of my shorts.

I shut my eyes again, and looped my thumb around the elastic.

"Holy shit!" It wasn't a murmur this time. It was a full on shout. That was not mine. Definitely not mine.

"Greyson," Celia called for me and it snapped me out of my trance. I walked back out of the bathroom to face her. She was sat looking at the T.V. screen. They had the face of the victim up.

"I know you may be enjoying this but I don't think that this happening, and that dead boy showing up isn't a coincidence."

"Yeah, that seems about right."

"We need to be careful."

"Agreed."