Ringo Wheeler had enough problems - she was named after a member of a band she doesn't even like, she can't find her favourite record in any store along the East Coast and she pissed her parents off enough to be shipped to Indiana.
Now, she has a ne...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
✵
"GET UP NOW, BEFORE I KEY YOUR VINYLS," was the first words Ringo Wheeler heard that day.
Blearily, she opened her eyes, immediately shutting them again thereafter as she was forced to acknowledge the pain throbbing through her skull. The blonde let out a low groan, reaching up to clutch her forehead, as if it would ease her agony. Hangovers were definitely not something she'd ever get used to.
"Is that how it's gonna be?" Her mother interrupted her self-loathing, prompting Ringo to flick the blankets away from her face to catch sight of the older woman as she headed towards her vinyl rack. "Lets see... The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust? I hope that's not your favourite."
"Woah, woah! I'm up, I'm up!" Ringo howled, forcing her body into a sitting position and resisting the urge to fall back down as overwhelming nausea overcame her. She was never drinking again.
"Good!" Julia clapped her hands once, turning to leave her room, and her vinyls, alone. "You have five minutes to puke up whatever you have to puke, and then you're meeting me in the kitchen. We need to talk."
Oh no, Ringo thought worriedly, throwing the duvet back and stumbling out of the bed, cringing as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She was obviously too drunk to remove her make up the night before, something her skin would punish her for in the coming days.
Instead of vomiting as her mother expected, she spent the five free minutes she was granted cleansing the smudged make up away, then tossing her scruffy hair into a ponytail, trying desperately to remember what actually happened the night before.
"Sit down, Ringo," her mother commanded, and she obeyed her without hesitation. Her mother hadn't used such a strict tone with her since her father had passed, and that fact had made her nervous. Especially if the stern set of her jaw and her fierce gaze were anything to go by. Perhaps she didn't want to remember what went down at all.
"I quit my job today," she revealed, causing the younger girl to sputter in shock. "I quit my job because of you."
"W-what do you mean because of me?"
"We're not living like this any more, Ringo. That mess you had gotten yourself into last year, I thought that was your lowest point. But you've been drinking almost every day, and now you're committing vandalism. I don't know what to do with you any more, you're breaking my heart." Her words were like a memory serum injected directly into Ringo's veins, forcing everything to come back from the night in question. The punctured tyres, the vomiting, the attitude she held when speaking with her concerned parent. Shame, regret and guilt washed over her like a wave. It was rather easy to dub it as the biggest regret of her life, thus far.
