Possibly.

New Rules

If you didn't know, there's a ninety-nine percent chance that not driving yourself to an outing is a mistake because you can't leave when you want to. The other one percent is when you know you're going to get sloshed don't want that kind of responsibility. Collectively it is a one hundred percent chance when you have no business at your final destination. Which in my case, was five thousand percent true. But there was no backing out now as we were pulling up in front of the complex.

I found myself stifling a giggle upon glancing at the dim light on the front door. It shone on the same exact spot he'd kissed her before I left, yet it was just as empty as I felt. Both highlighted as if important but destitute of the necessary ventricular connections to run at full capacity. It really isn't funny, however, I know that the serotonin is what I need to put on the best possible front that I'm not miserable. Deep breath in, shaky breath out. I can do this. I don't want to, but I can.

Following behind Trevor, we approach the front entrance and stop. I hear him mumble a few curse words at the beat up box and realize he has no idea which button to press. I force my hands into my pockets, though my natural response was to press the button located in row E, column 3. Trevor is already trying so hard to make this a good night for me, I see no need to poke holes in his balloon.

After what seems like forever, my eardrums vibrate with the notification that the door has unlocked. There's no breeze, yet my skin contracts as my follicles make my hair stand on alert. I pinch my skin inside my jacket and bite my lip to smother pain and attempt to ignore the insults through my mind.

'You stupid, fat, dumb, fucking whore. You deserve to endure this misery like the little shit you are. What good do you think you deserve by not only engaging in sin, but hitting a double whammy with someone else's spouse!? You deserve every rotten thing you got.'

Mirroring each step of his like a shadow soon Trevor and I find ourselves standing in front of a doormat that says, "Weed love to have you." Showcasing the large green emblem obviously a nod at their penchant for the drug. I can feel the bass vibrating underneath my feet, and I just know that I'm in for a long night. Before Trevor can raise his hand up to knock, the lock clicks, and the door swings open to no one other than the girlfriend.

"Hi, I'm Ashley, you must be friends of Abel's. Come on in," she says opening the door wider and gesturing for us to make ourselves comfortable.

She and I only make eye contact for a brief moment, and it's the sincerity in her own that awakens my guilt. I'm salivating at this thought, though hunger is the last thing on my mind. Feeling the pressure, I clench my stomach.

"Do you have a bathroom I could use?" I ask quickly before slapping a hand over my mouth. Though, I felt foolish, as I knew exactly where the bathroom was, but for still inquired for appearances sake.

Knowing that my bile didn't even want anything to do with me made me feel worse. I'm sure my shame came across as nausea, as I followed the direction of the pointedhand and and rushed to the bathroom. Flinging open the lid, the contents of my stomach find peace away from me by resting in the toilet bowl.

It's a twisted level of comfort being physically empty. The sweat on my forehead signifying relief that the battle has been won, but my heart palpitating screaming that the war is far from over. There's been no justice from my behavior, so I shall know no peace.

The moment seems still with the music having been shut off and only murmurs coming from the living room. I attempt to strain to hear what's being said, but the blood rushing through my ears makes it difficult. Growing sick of fumes of my own despair I fall back to lean against the tub letting my lungs fill with air.

But it's not oxygen that takes my lungs, as the burning sensation chokes me instantly. Coughing does nothing but bring up the leftover puke and phlegm from my throat. I spit into the toilet and feel the gristle on my teeth. I need a toothbrush, pronto.