Only the Strong Survive

Chapter Three

Nina pov

When I woke up at seven in the morning and sat up. It took a minute to remember all that happened the day before. Then it hit me like a truck. I was engaged. To Jack. I was happy all over again, and flopped back down in the sheets. Jack rustled a bit, arranged his arms around me, and settled back down to sleep a little more. He had one arm under my pillow and the other draped over my waist. While he snored softly in my ear, I glanced over to my nightstand. The small golden ring glistened in the hint of sunrise that was filtering through the blinds. Sunrise? I feel like I'm late for something. I guess my mind is still on training. This is my day off and I am going to enjoy it. Nothing even resembling a push-up will be attempted. Slowly, I unstrap my gloves and set them on my table, careful not to make too much movement. I move backwards, pressing my back into Jack's chest, pull the blankets up a bit more around us, and sighed. I was covered in warmth, like laying in my own volcano. I even had warm sunny thoughts. Laughing on the hill, Annie and I talking in the kitchen. Just one thought of my friend, sent me into a downward spiral of thoughts. What would my life be without her? Would the rest of my life lack half of the joy and happiness it once had. Not that I had much... With the depressing thoughts flooding my head, the start of my happy day turned sour, but what if.... Idea! I'm not saying its a smart one, but it might help. I untangled myself from Jack, and bolted down the hall. I peaked into dad's room. It was empty. He would be in the kitchen by now, halfway through the paper. I snuck in, closing the door behind me. I scrambled around, searching in the bathroom, under the tables, the bed. With no success. I did find several bottles of vodka though. The last thing I check was under the couch, and the small space between the couch and wall. It would be big enough- bingo! I reach in and pull out a square bottle, about half full of a brownish liquid. Whiskey.
Almost all the older students have noticed by now that Logan keeps alcohol in his room, but none of them dare to go in, with a fear of being chopped to pieces. I sit on the couch, uncap it and take a drink. It burned my throat as it went down. After a few more drinks, I was forgetting why I came in here. My thoughts were becoming cloudier. A few more sips, and I forgot why I wanted to drink, just that I was. I looked out the window, the sun was rising, higher every minute. I think it was a minute. "It's a bit too early to get wasted." A voice said from the door. I jumped, almost spilling what little was left in the bottle on the floor. It was dad, looking mad. Very mad. All I could say in a kinda slurred voice was, "Um, want some? I wasn't going to drink it all." He snatched the bottle, tipped it up to the sky, and downed the rest of the bottle. He set it on a table, and clearly didn't look effected. Dang. Why cant I have a tolerance that high?
He came over and pulled me up. First I got a rather hard flick on the head. When he tried to drag me up, I stumbled a bit, and then ran to the bathroom, before puking up my stomach. I could just make out dad swearing over my stomach waterfall. It was gross.
Note to self: don't drink whisky this early in the morning. Or at all.
When I was done, and slumped on the floor, dad hauled me up once more and half threw me in the shower, turning on the water to extreme cold. Times four. He let the shock wake me up, and dragged me up, my head and shirt still sopping wet, everything clinging to my body. As he forced me out of the shower, he went on a whole lecture about how I was 18 and I should know better, and then about if this was how I wanted to spend my life, then on about how that was his last bottle of whisky and how he was very mad at me. He even threw in a few swear words. The sentence that held my attention the longest was, "I hope you don't pull a move like this when your older, kid." I tripped over my foot and he caught me, swore again, and dragged me across the hall. Hopefully I won't.
He knocked on my door and within a minute Jack answered. He thrusted me upon him. All he said was "You better take care of it." And walked off.
"Why are you all wet?" He asked, surprised. I didn't answer. Jack sat me down on my bed and started his interrogation. "What happened?" He said forcing me to look at him.
"My head hurts, can I lie down?" I said rubbing my head. He wouldn't let me. "And why does it hurt?"
"Because dad flicked me really hard." He frowned.
I sighed. "Ok, I drank too much whisky too early in the morning. I could've gone for the vodka, but it taste weird." He didn't look surprised and let me lay down. Maybe he could smell the whisky still lingering in me, but his next question was, "How much did you drink?"
I pulled a pillow closer. "Almost the rest of the bottle." He frowned upon me. There is nothing worse in life than knowing you've disappointed someone and then see I on their face. I could already see his next question in his eyes. "I did it so I could get... Annoying thoughts out of my head. And it worked. Now please, I would like to sleep just a bit more." He leaned over, kissed my head, and left me alone. Went down stairs for food. My head hurt bad but I knew it would fade in maybe ten minutes. This was the beginning to my otherwise pretty good day.