Rain | Harry Styles

1.4

'should kiss you goodbye, maybe i shouldn't, not when it's good, not when it's this good - and i never learn, so maybe it's my fault.'

(heartLess - madison beer)

H.

My head was pounding. I winced slightly as I sat up in the bed I didn't recognise, the sudden movement causing the room to spin. Fucking hell - where was I?

"Hey, you," a voice sounded from beside me and I frowned - what the fuck?

A tanned girl lay under the covers beside me as she too sat up, the duvet the only thing covering her bare body. Dirty blonde waves matted together, dark blue eyes - it was coming back to me. 

"I didn't think you'd be coming home with me last night after that bimbo came wandering in last night," she giggled, and I began to feel sick. I felt dirty - disgusted with myself. I'd fucked it up, again.

That 'bimbo' had been Ana, and the realisation only made my head pound further. 

"Has anyone ever told you how good you are in bed?" she murmured now, and the urge to be sick became more prominent in the pit of my stomach. 

I threw the covers off myself, swinging the door open which connected to the room, and collapsed in a heap in front of the toilet bowl. I emptied my stomach within a minute, and I could feel my chest heave; my arms shake. I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the repercussions of what I'd done only hours ago, but in that moment - I hated myself. It had been a long, long time since I'd drank that much - when I was sixteen, maybe - though it was then I realised the effect it had on me, and tried my best to stop.

I hadn't a clue what I'd said to Ana - what bullshit excuse I'd spun her; what she'd seen go down, I didn't know. I wasn't sure if I even wanted to, but I knew for a fact she'd been there last night, and I knew for a fact she would be done with me.

I knew why I'd been drinking. Of course I fucking knew why - my dad. But I didn't dare use that as an excuse - there was no bloody excuse, I just fucked it up. I fucked it, I fucked it, I fucked it.

I fucking hated myself.

The nameless blonde appeared in the doorway, "hey, do you need some water, or-"

"Fuck off!"I roared, my voice barely a croak. It wasn't her fault - of course it wasn't. But I just didn't want to be here at this moment, and I didn't want that bitch within a ten mile radius of me. She made me sick - I made myself sick to my fucking stomach. I didn't know her name, nor did I want to, as I pulled myself up from the floor and headed straight back into the bedroom, pulling my clothes on hastily.

"What- can I at least get your number-" was the last annoying squeak I heard as I slammed the front door shut, stumbling down the steps. I was still drunk, I knew I was - despite vomiting so heavily, I knew the whiskey, beer, and bourbon I most likely drank would remain in my system for at least another few hours.

I pulled my phone from the back pocket of my jeans, desperate to get hold of Ana. "Fuck, come on, come on, come on, have some fucking battery," I huffed to myself as I switched it on, thankful it had just over 10%. That'd be enough until I got to Ana.

It was 11am on a Wednesday morning, and it was likely that Ana would be in school - though, she was in the habit of ditching, I didn't think it likely that she would take the whole day off today. Still - I tried to call her. Fuck, I must've called her a million times.

Ring. Ring. Voicemail.

I cursed before trying again - ring, ring. Voicemail.