first of all. JACK IS SO CUTE.
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My vision is blurry and my mind is swirling, like a tornado made of nothing but crazy thoughts.
Stumbling out of the bar, my heels in one of my hands, I wrap my unwounded arm through Charlie's and pull her close to me. She almost trips, which makes me start giggling, thus causing me to drop my shoes. I bend down to pick them up, then loose my footing and fall forward on my knees and throw up.
The air is warm and stuffy, like a hot cloud. It suffocates me gently, as if it were trying to slowly, ever so carefully, choke me to death. Every thing that was in my stomach comes up in a disgusting mess. My hands are resting on the concrete, fighting to hold me up, but my arms are weak, so I eventually crumble to the ground in a weak, wasted lump.
My vision starts to fade. Charlie stands over me, her eyes wide with drunken concern. I laugh, but then stop because my mouth tastes like bile. I lean over to spit the flavor out.
"Are you okay?" Charlie gasps, pantomiming concern.
Rolling over onto my stomach with my hands pressed against the concrete, preparing to heft my debauched body up from the ground, I nod. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. I feel better now."
Just as I thought I was fine, I ironically begin dry-heaving at the ground, already lifted to my hands and knees. Without really thinking about it, I feel Charlie's gentle hands pull a chunk of my hair back.
After a moment, I sit back onto my ankles and wipe my mouth with my wrist. There aren't many cars driving around at this hour. It is probably around two in the afternoon, but I don't know. I lost track of the time after my sixth shot.
"Where's Vaggie?" I ask, but my speech is so slurred that it sounds like "Shwears Vahhie?"
"I don't know," Charlie says honestly. "Let's take you home so that - hic - so that you can rest. You have to - hic - you gotta, um, counseling. You know? That one thing that you have to do."
"Oh yeah," I mumble. "I remember that. But. Where did Vaggie go?"
Charlie looks directly at my eyes. For a minute, she is completely serious, her face still as stone. Just as I'm about to ask if she's okay, she starts laughing uncontrollably. I can't help but join in.
Charlie helps me up and walks me back to the hotel. She takes me up to my room, then heads back downstairs. Probably to get Vaggie or something. I didn't ask.
I stumble into my bathroom of the hotel room that I now call my home. After turning the shower nozzle to hot, I turn around to face the mirror and begin undressing. Although my eye sight is shakey with the intoxication, and my hands are tingling with anxiety, I still feel the usual self-hatred when I see my familiar face.
The only real thing that carried on to Hell with me, other than memories of my old life, is my self hatred. And my clothes, of course.
Plus, my hospital shirt is covered in puke. Probably stained.
Before getting into the shower, I grab my phone out off of the counter and play Broken by lovelytheband. I could play this song on repeat forever.
With my music playing loudly, I step as carefully as I can (which is not very carefully) into the shower. At one point, I nearly trip, and have to grab at the shower curtain for support.
Once I am safely in the shower, I start to dance. Rather than washing myself, like showers were made for, I sing along to my music and shake my ass, hoping that I don't slip while exaggerating my super hot dance moves.
YOU ARE READING
to hell and back.
Fanfic[] COMPLETED [] Danielle died. She knows that she died, but rather than life just... ending, she wakes up in a strange place filled with strange people. Hell, where everywhere you turn, there is murder and sex and sin. Filled with foreign emotions...
