Bottle and a Gun

Chapter 1: Knife Called Lust

Loud music, flashing lights, sex-crazed adults grinding all over each other. That's how it usually was at these things.

There was a raven-haired freshman college girl. She had blue eyes, dark makeup, red lipstick, nice body. Beautiful, really. Probably much too young to be here. But that was the case with most of them. College students living the party life; getting drunk and taking every drug known to man only to regret wasting Mommy and Daddy's hard earned money on their education somewhere down the line. It was almost tragic, really.

She was leaned against the wall and I stood close to her, our bodies brushing against each other. Her fingers were hooked into my belt loops which she used to keep me close to her. She planted several soft kisses on my lips and on my neck, and she would whisper in my ear how much she wanted me.

I knew it was the mixture of cheap or stolen liquor and overpriced drugs talking. She probably wouldn't remember me or any of tonight by morning, but I wouldn't either. All we knew was the adrenaline coursing through our veins.

I knew we would fuck in some guest room, and I would leave.

But it was all in good, harmless fun. I wasn't doing anything wrong. It felt too good to be wrong.

I fumbled around with my keys for a moment before being greeted by my roommate, Jorel. His eyes were narrowed and his face was stern.

"Danny, what the fuck? It's two thirty in the morning. Where have you been? Actually, don't answer that." I could tell he'd just woken up.

"It's-it's not that late, Jay. Calm down."

"Jesus Christ, are you drunk? You reek of cheap booze. Get inside before you pass out in the porch."

He grabbed my arm and practically dragged me inside to my room. He sat me down on my bed, taking my shoes off.

"Danny, you gotta stop doing this."

I looked down at him. My vision was a little blurred and I was seeing double.

"Doing... Doing what?"

"Getting plastered drunk, staying out at God-knows-where, and coming home in the middle of the night. It's not good for you. And it's annoying the shit out of me and the guys." He stood up and walked to the bathroom, then came back a moment later holding the small trash can and a paper cup of water.

"Please try to use this if you get sick. Drink this water and go to sleep." He muttered, walking out of my room and turning the light off before closing my door.

Just like that, I was alone with my thoughts. Luckily I was drunk enough to ignore them, but my whole body felt like it was on fire. I could feel the shakes starting to set in. Maybe it was just the alcohol. It had to be.

I woke up the next morning to the sunlight shining brightly through my window. I groaned and sat up, getting out of bed and stumbling towards my door then walking out, immediately greeted by the faint smell of eggs and bacon. Just the thought of food was enough to make me sick, and the smell wasn't helping at all. I heard Jorel's voice from the living room.

"It's about time you woke up. It's almost eleven o'clock."

I glared over at him.

"Fuck you. I have the worst headache ever right now and the smell of whatever the hell you cooked makes me want to puke."

He laughed softly and got up, walking over to me.

"That's what you say every time you're hungover. Take a shower and wake up, you'll be fine within a couple hours."