Bloodstained Love Bite

15: "Confess Yourself to Heaven..."

Sleep All Day – The Rural Alberta Advantage

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Shoot... Me... Now.

If the world had an Amy sized hole, she would gladly be swallowed whole within seconds. 

I'm dying, I'm sure of it.

How could a headache be this bad without being hit across the head with a brick?

Oh, dear. Matty was going to kill her. She was afraid to go downstairs. Maybe she could avoid him. Or maybe not move at all.

Except she needed to pee badly. 

She slowly opened her eyes groaning quietly at the sliver of sunlight blinding her. She couldn't remember a thing. There were bits and pieces like everyone arriving however that was at the beginning! 

Her tongue darted out to lick her chapped lips as her vision finally cleared. 

Wait... White sheets? Her sheets were maroon. 

And her bed wasn't this big. And she didn't have a dark wooden side table...

Amy shot up ignoring the ache between her brows and looked around the large room.

Then at her dress on the floor.

Then at what she was wearing.

And then she inhaled.

"Oh, shit." 

This is John's... Everything. This was his bed, his t-shirt, his pillow she was currently hugging. Could she have...?

No! She wasn't that stupid and John wasn't that much of an asshole. But dammit for the life of her she couldn't recall anything past her fourth glass of port.

"I can't remember..." She mumbled to herself as she replayed last night over and over again. There were only snippets she could remember. She remembered Evie saying, 'it took you two long enough' but she couldn't remember why. She remembered her birthday cake but barely. 

There was a distant clatter but it was very quiet. 

John could answer everything. Well, he better. She was hoping, praying, that they didn't have sex especially with her drunk.

She wanted to be sober for that.

...Maybe she was still drunk.

Amy stood quickly and swayed slightly before glaring at her appearance in his long mirror opposite her. Her make-up was smudged, her hair a complete mess and, God, she was so pale despite what was left of her tan. And she didn't have a clue where the bathroom was. It'd be a cold day in hell before she let John see her this way. So she tried the door on her right and thanked the high heavens when it opened into a bathroom. Quickly, she washed her face, used the toilet, found a brush on top of his cabinet and ran it through her hair before washing her mouth out expelling the worst feeling of cottonmouth with the mouthwash beside the sink. 

Her face looked way better and her hair was tame but she still looked like hell. 

And now to face the inevitable. 

As she tiptoed barefoot through his study and down the stairs, noting the smell of bacon, the nerves were starting to boil in the pit of her stomach. Or was she about to throw up... Most likely the nerves; she was starting to crack her knuckles.

The varnished tiled floors were cold against her feet as she glanced around the empty living room. John still hadn't given her the tour but it wasn't hard to find him. From the large archway opening up revealing the kitchen, she saw him walk past. And something from last night flashed into her mind: