A Guide To Becoming A Teenage Hipster

Step [15]: I Wont Tell A Soul

CHAPTER 15: WICKED GAMES

I AM EXHAUSTED. My vision is clouded, my head pounds and aches and my thoughts are hazy. I haven’t had more than 4 hours of sleep in two days. On top of that it is freezing and I know that if I move a inch, the cold will engulf me. The old rusted oil heater is too far from my bed, which means that I would have to face approximately 10 seconds of unbearable icy drafts of air, plus an additional 10 minutes of waiting for the rust bucket to actually heat up. 

Thanks, but no thanks. I would rather stay motionless under these cotton bed sheet’s and savour the little warmth that I have. My manager at Sportiva, Mr Russell, promised me that this was a business trip that would accommodate all my needs and that I would be fully comfortable for the three days that I would be in Poland. Well F U, Russell you fat piece of poop. This stupid motel room is not accommodating my womanly needs. 

I imagine him now, the short lump in his brown lumpy suit. I bet the idiot hasn't heard of an iron before. Hello, thats how you get all the mother effing creases out of your suit so that it looks at least a little bit presentable. No wonder I’m stuck in this crappy motel. How the hell would Mitchell Russell know how to accommodate my needs when the little lump doesn't even iron his own suit to work! Feeling frustration and anger flood my veins, I shake my head vigorously, only to feel pain electrify my temple. Fuck.

 Why am I so angry? Well maybe its because I haven't slept in TWO DAYS. Yes maybe thats why I feel like morphing into a snake so that I can sneak into Russell’s plush office suite and suck his blood dry. Slither, slither. And maybe if the reason why I was here would be at least a little bit more motivating, I would not be as pissed off as I am right now. Flying all the way to Poland to interview the nations ice hockey team, doesn't seem like such a pressing matter to me. I mean, I could have called them, emailed them, skyped them, bloody face timed them for god’s sake, all without having to endure a gruelling flight and a punishing three day trip. Whatever, its over. It’s done. Its day three and its time to go home. 

Groaning and bracing myself for the cold, I slip a hand from under my sheet and grasp aimlessly at the floor, desperately hoping that my phone will fly into my hand. After what seemed like an eternity I finally feel the ice cold, smooth surface of my phone. Moving as slowly as possible so as not to disrupt the sheet from any other surface of my body, I slide my hand back under and open up my phone under the covers.  

8:27 A.M? What? Surely thats the wrong time. My flight is at 8 A.M. Quickly scanning the top bar of my phone screen, I see the little alarm symbol indicating that my alarm had yet to go off. Phew! Here I was freaking out. I must have forgotten to change my phone time to Polish time. But what. That still doesn't make sense. Polish time is 2 hours ahead of us. My fingers quickly exit out of my emails, which I was checking and tap on the little clock app on my home screen.

Oh no no no no no. This cannot be happening. I had already changed the time to Polish Time. I was supposed to get up at 6 A.M for my 8 A.M flight. I had also set my alarm for 6 A.M. But somewhere, somehow, the little button that lets you choose whether you want it at 6 A.M or 6 P.M had decided to choose the latter. Of course I slept through my alarm. It wouldn't have gone off until 6 P.M tonight. Which means that I had already missed my flight. 

Feeling both physically and emotionally drained, I feel an overwhelming rush of sadness, desperation and panic wash over me. I am tired and I miss my home. Most of all I miss my Patty. I also miss the bathroom at my apartment with all my soaps and my cosy bed with flannel bedsheets that keep you warm, not stupid fucking cotton ones. 

It wasn't long before my body started shaking slightly and I could feel snot dripping from my nose. My cheeks were having flashes of warmth from the fresh tears pouring down them and then moments of coldness as the salt water dried. 

Usually I would say to myself, Cinta baby why are you crying its going to be fine, but this time its not fine. Im stuck alone in a foreign country, in a place where I do not want to be. After a few more minutes of now very dry silent sobs I decide to get out of bed and brave my enemy. The cold.

 I do it fast, extremely fast, and the fact that I almost sprinted to the cooped up bathroom of the motel made me warm up and you could say that it improved my mood slightly. That was until I pulled down my pyjama pants to take a piss and saw what every girl with a raging headache hates to see on a cold winter morning. Yup, of course. 

Of course. Because what better time for my period to show up than on this bright beautiful day where I’m feeling as chirpy as a bird! My tear tanks are all used up, so I very calmly and firmly  plant my butt cheeks on the icy cold toilet seat and do the next best alternate. I scream. 

**

I count them all lined up on a perfectly straight line on the balcony of my motel room. I had just gotten over the period disaster and had then called shit face Russell to tell him about my missed flight. Safe to say the guy was not happy about the fact that I had missed my flight, and that “the matter will have to be discussed in a serious manner” when I got back. I had then draped myself in my thickest jacket and slipped on my thickest pair of jeans, not bothering to shower or wash my face, and had stepped out on to the dirty balcony adjoining my motel room before I saw them. 

I was slightly shocked to see them there at first. But after a few seconds my mind registered fleeting glimpses of the activities that I had performed last night which would perfectly explain the raging head ache I had today morning and my lack of sleep. Looking at how perfectly aligned they were, I must have spent a good 3-4 hours moving them by a few millimetres every second in order to get that perfectly straight line. Not that I can remember of course, I never remember those nights. 

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Six empty bottles of red wine stand in a perfectly straight line. Six bottles of red wine which I had consumed in two days, all by myself. Not that this figure was really all that astonishing. I had consumed far more on the days where Patrick was gone on his business trips. It wasn't like I did it often either, It was just a little treat to myself. I deserve to treat myself sometimes right? 

Not bothering to throw away or clean up my apparent master piece, I walk away from the balcony and back into my room. I had already packed the afternoon before, straight after the interview with the hockey team. I knew that I would be in no state to actually pack for my early morning flight, especially after my little evening with my bottles of red wine.

Picking up the large khaki duffel bag and slinging into over my shoulder, I walk to the dingy bathroom and grab my tooth brush and shove it into the side pocket of the bag. Then grabbing my hand bag, I double check for my wallet and passport before stepping out of the motel room as fast as I possible can. For some reason I couldn't bare to stay even a second longer in the motel room. I found the atmosphere eerie and foreboding and I just wanted to get out.

I stop to lock the door, and just as it swings closed, I see those six bottles of red wine through the large murky windows overlooking the balcony. Those six bottles of red wine that are perfectly aligned.

No one has to know.

A/N: So what are your thoughts after reading this chapter?

I wrote this chapter to show you more of Cinta and the battles that she is facing. Yes this chapter is very very very important to the plot and it basically shapes the rest of the story. This story isn't just another love story. Next update will be Thursday or Friday as promised.

Thanks guys for all your support and everyone who still continued to read.

I take the time to personally thank everyone who fans, comments or votes and I try to build a relationship with them because I honestly think that my readers are the most important thing. I want to get to know you. I want to get to know the people who are reading my stories, so whether your out there reading this new chapter on your phone/ipad/tablet/computer please hit me up on my message board or through the comments. All you have to say is “hi, I read your story,” and we can go from there. I want to get to know you, because your what motivates me to keep on writing.

Also this chapter is completely un edited so I apologise for any spelling and grammar mistaker.  Bye puppies x