Secrets, Love and Lies (18+)

31 - Hangover

My head is raging when I wake in the morning, the bright sunlight burning holes into my aching skull. My brother's arms are heavy against my chest, his leg slung over and tangled between my own. It's difficult to move but I shift and struggle until I manage to escape from the grip of his bulky arm and stand with a groan.

Flashes of last night rush back to me and I rush to the bathroom as a wave of nausea hits me. I've barely made it to the toilet before I begin heaving the meager remains of my stomach. I feel like absolute shit. I splash my face with water and brush the vomit from my teeth before sitting back on the toilet to think.

"Fuuuck..." I moan as I rub my sore eyes. This hangover has my head pounding and hands shaking. I can't go back out there. The details of last night are fuzzy, but I feel an overwhelming sense of shame and disgust wash over me as I recall hazy pieces of my wayward behavior.

It's the feeling I get when I wake up and I don't know where I've been and what I've done, but the evidence points to another production of 'bad decisions: by Lily.' Except that this time the shame is more acute, the pain is deeper, and that sick feeling only grows with every second I pick through the pieces of last night's memories. I really need to keep myself in check next time so I can remember where I've been and what the fuck I've done.

I remember the fight in the restaurant and Alex, once again, being a dick about the wine I had with dinner. We stopped to the store for my vodka; I do remember hounding my brother relentlessly to stop for that. The back of my head starts aching, interrupting my attempt to put together the pieces of last night with a sharp pain that's throbbing with the same rhythm of my headache. As I touch it, I can feel a lump that's formed in the back of my head and an image of Alex standing over me in the bathtub comes back to me.

That's not the only place that I'm sore. I have bruises on my wrists and back and my lips are chapped and split. There are bruises in between my thighs; ones I know I've had before when Alex and I enjoyed rough times together in the past. The only other piece of evidence I need to piece together the events from last night has dried in between my legs. I remember crying, I remember Alex.

Alex, oh dear God, what have we done?

A tear slides down my cheek as I recall laying in my brother's arms last night. I love him, oh how I love him, but I need to let him go. And he needs to let me go.

A knock on the door interrupts my morose thoughts. "Baby, you alright in there?"

I sigh and run my fingers through my tangled hair, dropping my aching head in frustration. He's up and I have no idea what to say to him, or what the hell I'm going to do.

"Yeah, just sick from last night," I mutter quietly.

"Okay. Well let's get ready soon for checkout. I think we should stay somewhere different tonight. I'm going to call my dad today to let him know I need him to ship out my passport with yours. Did you want to talk to mom when I call? They're going to want to hear from you, to know that you're okay."

They'll want to know that I'm okay. I'm not okay, I'm a hungover, sick, miserable, terrified mess. Alex is crazy serious; he wants us to run away together. I can't even begin to sort through this mess, my head is still hazy and aching. What the hell am I supposed to say to him right now?

"Alex, I'm going to jump in the shower, I'll be out in ten, alright?"

"Sure, I'll be right here if you need me." I hear him step away from the door and the sounds of shuffling as he picks up around the room. I jump into the shower and rinse away the evidence of the prior night, letting the tears spill down my cheeks and mix with the shower water as I push back the memories that are returning to me at a steady interval. I was so incredibly drunk last night, there was no excuse for my behavior and Alex – I don't even know what to think about our night together.