Red 2 (PUBLISHED)

Chapter Three

Red's POV

The darkness begins to fade as I open my eyes. My head feels swollen, my limbs made of metal. I blink rapidly and wince at the sunlight hitting my eyes. I roll over in the soft sheets and smile. They smell like fresh flowers and... hold on. My sheets don't usually smell like this. Or feel this soft, ever.

Panic shoots through me, and I sit up quickly. Bad. Fucking. Idea.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit!" I curse loudly as my head spins. I sit back against the headboard and let my head catch up with itself. My stomach grumbles beneath the thick white comforters, and I groan. How much did I have to drink? I look around and my heart quickens. Must've been enough that I'd end up in someone else's home.

I'm sitting in a gigantic bed, in an even larger room. There's a flatscreen TV above a dark dresser with lots of drawers. I look around and my jaw drops. There's a mini (most likely) expensive chandelier in the middle of the room, and a gray fan above my head.

To my right is a span of tall glass windows that showcase the bustling city below. There's even a damn mini living room a few feet away, and a vanity, and a door that probably leads to a private bathroom.

"Well, fuck me in the ass and call me Monica Lewinsky," I mutter under my breath. My God awful breath. Shit. I smell like I rolled around in hot dog shit, then skipped through the sewers.

I am never drinking again. A pledge everyone thinks, but never follows through. But I think I mean it this time. Seriously. Everything hurts, stings, or smells like shit puree.

As I stumble into the immaculate bathroom that's three times the space of my own apartment, I push through the fog clouding last night's events. I splash cold water on my face and look into the massive mirror. My hair is a tousled mess, my eyeliner on my cheek, dark rings under my eyes. I splash some more water on my face, then rub it harshly. As I do, I try my best to piece together what happened last night and how I got here... wherever here is.

I remember Majesty convincing me to attend some new club downtown. I'd just come back into town of staying with my grandpa. I'd told him I missed him and wanted to help around the house, keep Harley company when she came home on the weekends. But she barely notices my presence, hardly ever has since we were young, and he keeps himself busy fishing most of the time. Keeping himself busy with the still recent loss of my grandma.

It hurts to say, but I wasn't there for either of them; I was there for myself, because of what... of what I did.

My heart twists in my chest, and I turn the sink off. I still in the silence, marinate in it. What I did echoes through my head, hearing his voice for the last time before I hung up like the coward I was. I chucked my phone into the lake and broke down on the side of the bridge. I didn't want any of the money I got from his... from the watch. I didn't want it after I ruined the last good thing I had in my life.

Instead of reminiscing in what I did, I straighten up and wave the poisonous thoughts away. There's a brush on the counter, and wipes in the counter below the sink. I pull out the baby wipes and swipe away any of evidence of my makeup.

I'm left with a fresh face, swollen blue eyes, pursed pink lips, and my face piercings. Ignoring the bags under my eyes that have been there for months, I run the brush through my thick hair. I really need to trim this beast.

"Focus, Red," I tell myself quietly. I need to get out of here; I've already overstayed my welcome. I try my best to keep my mind on not tripping over my feet as I wander through the many long hallways, but memories of last night invade my head. I let them since I don't have much recollection of the night before.