11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven I'm was thinking of the day my father and I were picking flowers together. We were making a bouquet for my mom. It was Mother's Day. So long ago, when was eight. My father had taken me out to our secret field through the woods behind our old cottage, where we used to live before we moved into the mansion. The hidden meadow was filled with wild flowers, that seemed to spring up out of nowhere. My dad taught me how to cut the stems so that they wouldn't wilt as fast. I loved the delicate lilies. So beautiful, the pink blush spreading out from the center and bleeding into the white petals. All the flowers were so different, yet each possessed a unique beauty. White. A soft beeping. Muffled noises. Pain. I struggled to keep my eyes open. There were fifty-pound weights dragging them down. Everything was a bit hazy. I couldn't really make out my surroundings. It was just a bunch of fused blobs of color that began to swirl. My eyes wouldn't really cooperate, so I shut them tight. I couldn't ignore the stabbing pain in my head. In fact, there was a stabbing pain I couldn’t ignore everywhere. My whole body was throbbing. What the hell is happening? Then it hit me. The party. Did I not expect to wake up feeling like complete and utter shit the morning after the best party of my life? A hangover was a small sacrifice for the night of my life. An extremely annoying, terrible, horrid, disgusting small price, but, you know. It must've been good, because I couldn't seem to recall any of it. God, I felt like death. I couldn't even feel my toes, I thought as I tried to wiggle them. Maybe I could just stay there forever. I betted myself I was laying on the floor of my house somewhere. I didn’t want to move. I still made a feeble attempt at lifting my arm, but it felt like it was made of lead. I groaned. This sucks. That's the perfect description of a hangover, it just plain sucks. My head hurt so badly. I forced my eyes open until my surroundings began to sharpen. I observed the white tiled ceiling, a fan drowsily spinning above me. It was mesmerizing, watching the lazy blades with no other choice but to turn in circles. But the spinning started to put a strain on my eyes and I opted to staring at the tiles instead. My house didn't have a room with a ceiling like this. Where was I? I was thinking that maybe I ended up at someone else’s house. Wouldn't be that far fetched. I'd kill to remember what happened last night. The last thing I recalled was making out with my super hot boyfriend, and then nothing. ********** People trickled in, but around nine o'clock a tsunami of people just appeared, like out of nowhere. I swam through the ocean of people, dancing and jumping to the pounding music in my living room. Strobe lights lit up the room, but my house seemed like a completely different world. Everything was so hot and close, everyone losing themselves in the beat of the music. I tried not to spill my beer as I maneuvered through the crowd and into the kitchen, where some guys were cheering on their friend to finish chugging beer. He was laying on the island in the center of the room and his friends funneled alcohol down a tube straight into his mouth. I took a drink from my solo cup. I am so trying that later. I had lost Maria awhile ago. No doubt with some guy. I hadn't seen Niall with the guys yet though. Whoops, I thought to myself as I stumbled over something on the floor. I caught my self by leaning on the counter. I stare at the guy on the kitchen island for a bit. He looks so familiar... Hmm... Brown hair, fit body, he was wearing a red lifeguard sweatshirt too. Lifeguard? Oh God no. That asshole came to my party and was drinking my alcohol?! I'm am going to kill him! I began to walk over to him, almost tripping a few more times. I must have been a little clumsy because of the beer. It's a good thing I was a responsible drinker. "You son of a-" Suddenly, I couldn’t see. What was going on?! “Whoa there Princess!” I decided someone had covered my eyes with their hands. “Guess who?” The voice was low and gravelly, but I already knew who it was. Only one person called me Princess. “Dylan!” I squealed attacking him with a flying hug, my arms wrapped around his neck and my legs around his torso. I could feel his muscles through his shirt as he embraced me. I inhaled the fresh scent of his cologne. Oh my God he was the embodiment of heaven. After the hug attack I proceeded to attack his lips with my own. Boy, he did know how to French kiss. He set me on the counter and I became lost in him. All of my anger was suddenly gone. Wait, what was I even mad about in the first place? After I don't even know how long I was forced to come up for air. Dylan and I, well, our relationship didn't involve a lot of talking. “I’ve missed you so much.” I whispered into his ear. I traced a line along his neck with my finger. I really had. I felt incomplete when he wasn’t around. My fluttered in my chest. The last time I’d seen Dylan it was the last day of junior year, and he had left for his camping trip for the entire summer. He’d said something about going to someplace in Europe. I honestly didn’t care. All that mattered was that we were back together. He released me from his embrace and gingerly set me back down. Probably shouldn’t have just straddled my boyfriend in my super short dress, but at the moment I was too happy to even notice. ********** Not even a feeling to link myself to whatever else happened last night. I'd have to ask Maria. Hopefully she didn't have alcohol amnesia also. I let my head roll to the side, looking at the wall. My eyes casually drifted to my arm. And the first thing that crossed my mind was HOLY SHIT I'VE BECOME A HEROINE ADDICT. Because there was a huge ass needle stuck in the tender flesh of my forearm. A plastic tube trailed out from its non-needle end and I followed it to a bag filled with a clear, unknown substance. Then I was finally able to really take in my surroundings. I was laying on a bed. It was dark outside. Beige curtains cloaked the windows. A constant beeping is the only sound that echoed in the tiny room. There was a small television and a door to what I could see was a small bathroom. I whiffed the presence of a strong scent that was almost too fresh, attempting to cover a stench that is musty and sick. I felt like shit. There was an IV in my arm. I deduced that I was in my least favorite place in the world, the hospital.