Ego's Trap | ✔

07 | Fight! Fight! Fight!

☆☆☆ Chapter 7 ☆☆☆

Fight! Fight! Fight!

*Ane's Point of View (POV)*

I woke up with a sour taste in my mouth, and there was nothing good that came with it, not even the vague taste of cherry somewhere in the outskirts of my taste buds. And then it came to me, a horrible wave of pain that savagely began to raid my sweet, sweet brain. I wanted to raise myself up but no, my head just simply wouldn't let me, and actually... my stomach felt like it was doin' an intense cardio workout (I might just throw up on myself very soon, I gotta go to the bathroom!), and my legs were killing me. Everything in my body was hitting me all at once, and I just couldn't understand why. What the hell did I do last night?

After a while of staring into nothing but space, my stomach punched me hard with nausea, forcing me to run for my life.

I barely made it to the toilet when I threw up rainbows of wonder and questionable beauty. Almost as if working together to conspire against me, my head somehow decided to beat me up a little more as I prayed to the Toilet Gods to not squeeze the organs out of my body. Once again I wondered to myself what I did yesterday, and why I would dare to do such things.

I have always had a good sense of things── I'm a smart, grown, and beautiful woman who makes independent choices, but what could possibly make me go through this? What, did I try some form of illicit drug? No, for what reason, and where would I even get them 'round here? So what, did I drink, then?

Yes. Yes I did.

I reek of alcohol and I'm going through a mean hangover.

Yup, that's definitely it, and where was I yesterday── oh, of course! At Roger's house; in the home of Daniel's partner-in-crime. It seemed like a good night and day in general, until I filled myself with booze. I was wasted, I must've been. Definitely.

I failed to remember anything that happened after I chugged the entire jug of god-knows-what. That right there made the hairs on all parts of my body raise up. They must've done something to me. How the hell could my legs hurt from a hangover? They... they took advantage of me. They definitely did, they must've. I knew that Daniel's look when he handed me that drink was sketchy, and yet I dared to overlook it, thinking that it was just my heart fluttering like that of a little girl's. Maybe it's true, maybe I'm still a little girl, still not suspecting people enough, regardless of what had happened before.

Why did the other people in the house not do anything? Did they just watch, or did they join? I looked down at my thighs, at my arms, my feet, my belly, everything.

Then I noticed it.

The outfit I had on was not the one I wore yesterday. Today's outfit was a bland, oversized t-shirt that wasn't even mine, with a sad pair of shorts that I know for sure I would never dare wear on my own.

Once again, I was betrayed. Once again, I trusted. I leaned over the toilet and threw up some more. Disgust was all I felt, and once it flushed down the toilet with my piss and tears for a couple of hours, I stood up ready to kill a mothertrucker.

I can't let things fly over me this time and let them consume me. This time, I'll fight.

☆☆☆

There it was, that stupid, shameless 'good-boy' face. How the hell did I fall for that trap? I'm far above him, physically and personality-wise. I once thought that he could be on par with someone like me, but now I see it, his true colors── he's just a seedy little truck for me to destroy in a trash pit, where he belongs.