Hidden (UN-EDITED; on hiatus indefinitely, sorry)

Chapter Thirty-Six

While the cold air roused me from my slumber, I was vaguely aware of the bitter taste of alcohol lingering on my tongue. I rolled over onto my back and immediately recoiled into the covers to avoid the sunlight, which filtered through the worn curtains in soft, delicate rays. My hands moved to my face, sticky from what I could only assume to be makeup, tears, sweat, or saliva. Dull throbbing rang persistently through my skull, though I had no memory of why it would be. And honestly, I felt so horrible I couldn't care less.

My knees pressed against my chest with each breath I drew in. Within my mind was an overcast that numbed each thought and intensified the physical pain. What happened.... Where am I?... As I gradually awoke, these questions forced me up, begging for my attention.

I pressed my bare feet onto the cold hardwood floor and rested my elbows on my knees, sliding my fingers through a mess of knots atop my scalp. It was only now that I realized something was off and looked at my hand, wrapped tightly with a white gauze. Cotton... I frowned and rubbed my eyes with my left hand. When did I get hurt?...o

I pushed myself to my feet and stumbled forward, walking to the doorframe and peeking down the hallway. The t.v. was on in the living room, playing reruns of old cartoons I couldn't identify. One foot in front of the other...

I was briefly surprised to see Vivian on the couch- phone encased by her clasped hands, mouth held agape and head lolled to the side- though the memory of the ride over was enough to assure me the place was hers. Strewn across the floor were my few belongings. Jeans and shirts hung from the sides of chairs and clumped in corners of the room, along with a few pieces of underclothing. The pictures I had brought back from my house were scattered in varying conditions like a deck of cards. A bottle was within the clutter, overturned and empty. And then there was my phone was set on the coffee table, screen facing down.

I tilted my head and glanced at The couch again, noticing the bags under the girl's eyes, before turning back to the phone. When I lifted it, I saw that the screen was shattered, held together by the plastic layer stuck over it. The time read 10:49 when the screen lit up, the background photo of Zayn that I had snuck one day distorted by the cracks.

I unlocked my phone and checked my messages, the first one being from Lindsay.

So, uh... Long time no see? Sorry I haven't kept contact. I heard some rumors and I just wanted to make sure you were alright.

I tapped my thumb on the side of my phone before replying, what rumors?

The response was almost immediate.

That you two had a fight and split up.

I stared at the words and slowly began to recall the night before.

-

I had wept over the screen of my phone, eventually throwing it in frustration. I had been delirious with exhaustion and sorrow when I picked up the first bottle. If it weren't for Vivan, that first bottle would have been bleach, but she guided me out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, where the dark green bottle had already been set on the counter.

I stopped counting after the third. I stood from my post in the wooden chair and leaned against the table for support, looking kaleidoscope of colors emitted from the living room t.v. screen as I clutched the bottle. Commercials played, little jingles and the reading of the fine print being uninteresting to me. And then, it changed. My feet moved before I had registered the voice. Every fiber of my bring longed to find it, keeping me upright despite my swaying.

Thump. I tripped over the edge of a rug, landing hard without time to comprehend what happened. I stayed stiff, feeling as though an electric charge were coursing through my veins, paralyzing each muscle.