Everlong

| Seventeen: Ellie |

My throat bulged painfully as more liquid was forced down it. My stomach clenched in protest before spasming and sending the whiskey rocketing back up my oesophagus.

It exploded over the bathroom floor, and only the harsh grip on my hair kept me from falling into it. My fourth induced-vomit in so many minutes. My insides burned with acid and alcohol, my scalp burned as Jared's fist gripped it, my wet clothes stuck to my body. Tears mingled with bile on my chin.

My head was wrenched back until hot breath hit my ear.

"Think a stick of gum can fool me, bitch?" Jared hissed, pulling again at my hair. I couldn't even find a scream in my body. "Think a quick change of clothes will let you pull it over me, you stupid cunt? You were wrong."

He lifted the bottle, shoving the opening past my teeth until the alcohol poured without stop down my throat. My body thrashed, trying to escape. My throat tried to close against the onslaught. Jared's knees pinned my hands to the floor as he eagerly watched the bottle empty. Finally my body jerked forward, my teeth scraping on the bottle as I careened forward to empty my stomach again over the floor and cabinets.

Jared threw my head forward, my hands only catching me seconds before I hit the floor. They splashed in the puddle as he stood, dropping the bottle in the bath where it joined three other shattered bottles.

I gasped against the floor, each breath burning, as Jared wiped some vomit off his jeans with toilet paper and left without a word. He didn't return.

I didn't know how long my arms shook as they supported me. How many times I suddenly began dry-heaving, as though my body expected more liquid. How many sobs bounced off the walls. How long the room spun.

He didn't hit me, the thought shot desperately through my mind. It's not physical abuse. I'll tell Jack once it's physical. This isn't physical. He didn't hit me.

Once the gaps between my heaving fits were long enough, I slowly crawled out of the bathroom. I couldn't bring myself to care about the wet trail I left, or about the vomit still soaking into my clothes. Weak arms and seeing nearly double everything made for slow progress.

I made it to my room. Closing the door behind me, I crawled into the middle of my floor and collapsed. I closed my eyes as I panted, my torso shaking with every other breath.

The only sounds in the house were some kind of sport on the TV – cricket, maybe – and mum's shouts from her locked room. I'd been too stunned to run when we got home and Jared locked mum in there. He hadn't wanted any interruptions.

Some time later I felt strong enough to shower. I grabbed some kind of clothing before crawling out to a different bathroom. The water hitting my face nearly made me gag again, but I held it back. I robotically washed myself, swaying gently under the stream and nearly slipping several times. Afterwards I left the pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the room. I didn't want to look at them again.

I made it back to my room, hearing the distinct lack of a lock as I shut the door. Jared was still downstairs, no doubt sprawled on the lounge watching his sport reruns. I crawled into bed and simply laid there for a while.

My phone lit up and started vibrating on my bedside table. I slowly reached out to grab it. Charlie's face grinned at me, her arms folded on a railing with her hair blowing and the ocean behind her. My finger pressed answer.

"Ellie?" Her voice was faint. I realised that I hadn't lifted the phone to my ear. I did so, and her voice got louder. "Ellie? You there?"

"I'm here," I answered.

I heard her sigh. "Oh, thank god, you're okay. We were worried sick. I'm pretty sure Jack nearly punched something when his juul charge ran out."

I hummed.