SWNOVELS Chapter 52
I throw up in the bushes to the side of the garden, holding my head as I sway around, shoes in hand and bag dangling down at
ankle level. I feel like hell, tired and recounting- how many drinks I had and again gawp in disbelief that I can feel this way on a
minimal amount. It hasn’t been that long since I stopped being a seasoned drinker, so there is no way my tolerance has waned
this badly. I only drunk three, maybe four glasses at most, yet I am in the state of having had ten or more. Everything is spinning
weirdly, and it doesn’t feel like normal drunk at all. Normal drunk doesn’t give me this dry throat and painful ache in my stomach
that has made me throw up twice.
I stagger up to my front door on unsteady legs; the sound of the departing cab still echoing in the distance and alerting me to the
fact it’s early in the morning, around four am. or more. I have no idea what my mom will say. I’m completely disappointed in
myself. And to make it worse, being drunk just makes me crave to speak to Arrick again. My heart filling with reasons I should
call him and my head finding excuses not to that are pathetic in comparison. This is the last thing I needed to do to myself.
I stumble into the hall when I get the door open, trying so hard to be quiet and catch sight of myself in the hall mirror. My hair is
flyaway, dress hanging off one shoulder where that prick Malcolm tore it, and my lipstick smeared where he forced his tongue
down my throat when I was semi-conscious on a booth chair. I came to in a quiet corner of the hotel, in semi-dark shadows to
find him trying to get my clothes off. I pushed his groping hands and grinding body off in disgust while, the asshole called me a
‘cock tease’.
He actually had the nerve to try and hold me down, try and force his tongue in my mouth while his knees pried my legs apart,
and I fought back and caused a hell of a scene.
Camilla just laughed at first, until I made enough noise and chaos to bring the attention of other drunken stragglers, and then she
got snippy, dumping me in a taxi and telling me next time to lay off the booze if I couldn’t handle it. She seemed majorly pissed,
unconcerned that Malcolm had managed to rip my dress and unhook my bra, and I found that my lace panties were around my
upper thighs and halfway off.
I feel dirty and vile, wiping the back of my hand across the smeared mess in a bid to remove it with utter disgust. My head is a
riot of drunken emotional anger, hoping to god that creep didn’t violate me in anyway while I was out cold, and wondering again
how the hell I got so wasted on such a little amount of booze. Camilla can go fuck herself. So much for taking care of me; she
seemed completely sober and sat gyrating on some loser’s lap, watching us the whole time, while getting off with his hand up her
fucking skirt.
Climbing the stairs quietly, I sneak into my bedroom; the sudden urge to strip off this restricting dress and scrub myself clean
overwhelms me. Tonight, I behaved exactly as I have always done; getting trashed while some sleazy man made moves on me.
Only this time Arrick wasn’t at the other end of the phone to be pissed at me or come to take me home with him. Nothing has
changed. I’m still an idiot, acting out and bringing heartache to those around me.
I walk into my bathroom, turn on the shower and climb in as soon as I strip down, wiping the mess of makeup from my face as
hot water pours over me, removing the smells and memories of that creep from all over. The smell of his aftershave on me
makes me retch and I can’t get his slimy face out of my head. Waking up to that perverted fuck on top of me was like a flashback
to hell. The nausea rises and I can’t stop the vomit hitting the floor of my shower cubicle as emotion pushes me to eject what’s
left in there.
I slump down on the shower floor, away from the mess I made as it rinses it down the drain, tears overtaking me, water washing
away all my indiscretions, but my heart is as raw and wounded as it has been for months. This isn’t a new Sophie, this is the
same old Sophie with a new wardrobe and a new hangout, and I’ll be damned if I go down this route again. All tonight has done
is made me realize that I don’t want to go back to this, don’t want to be this girl anymore.
Finally, I climb into bed with damp hair, holding the short strands up above my face as I scrutinized it, wondering what Arrick
would say if he saw me now. I miss him, despite everything, and know how much worse it will be for me if I call him. I just want to
hear his voice. Want to feel like he’s still there, that even with shit like tonight he would have still come for me. I need him more
than anything to make me feel better, to feel safe from perverted assholes always trying to get something I don’t want to give.
I roll over onto my side, pulling Princess Snuggles and snuggling up to her. She was a present from him, a long time ago and
one of the few things I cannot part with, about as close to him as I can get right now. My head is a mess and I’ve only pushed
myself back to square one. This is everything I told myself I would change, everything that I have come to despise about myself
since being back here. Tomorrow I will start over, get back on track and cut that Camilla bitch out of my life and my cell.
***
I sit at breakfast with a gurgling stomach and pounding head, after forcing myself to get up, despite getting in so late, and I am
trying to appear normal for the sake of my parents. My mom eyes me warily, but as yet hasn’t said much as I pick at my granola,
trying to keep it down.
“I don’t know if it’s the hair, but you look pale and washed out, more than usual.” My father interjects into my thoughts as he
regards me over his paper. I keep my eyes on my plate and don’t respond. Knowing I literally have no ability to behave normally
or speak right now. “What time did you get in, we didn’t hear you?” He adds a little more forcefully, an obvious tone in his voice
this time.
“I don’t know, I didn’t check.” I answer quietly, honestly, as I didn’t check the time. I push my plate away and make a move to get
up, knowing more is to come if this was how Dad is starting the morning, and I literally cannot handle. My body is fighting me in
the worst kind of way, the nausea strong. I should have stayed in bed and got the rest of this booze out of my system before
attempting to stand upright.
“Did you come home drunk?” His tone notches a few octaves in the anger department, and I sigh. Good timing to be a forceful
dad! Years of leniency and he chooses now to get harsher.
“Dad, come on; I don’t feel good. I think I’ll go back to bed.” I sigh, trying to stay passive and not get mad at him. My mom throws
me a shady look and then one at my dad, that translates to ‘she looks like she was.’
“I asked you a question and I expect an answer, young lady!” He snaps at me, makes me and my mom jump with the sudden
bitey tone. He never snaps, like ever, and I instantly bristle defensively with that good old fucking temper of mine. A rage, that he
has always let me be, let me behave like a pampered little bitch, and now he has the nerve to try to control me, at twenty years
old!
“Yes, okay. I got drunk, I came home, and I vomited in the garden. Are you happy? Cos I’m fucking not, and I don’t need any
goddamn lectures over this shit right now. I think someone spiked my drink, so I am going to my bed!” I sound like the spoiled
little brat who told her parents to go fuck themselves months ago and ran to New York. I grimace that I’m being that same little
shithead right now. I hate that they’ve pretty much let me get away with any kind of behavior over the last six years to
overcompensate for what that sick fuck did to me, and then when they tried to reel me in, they let me run away and left me to it.
I hate that they always let me get away with everything, and this morning is no different. My dad is just sitting looking at me like
he thinks he shouldn’t keep pushing, now that I’ve snapped back, and my mom starts to cry. I wish they would just do what they
did with Ben or Rylanne, and go crazy psycho at me for getting trashed and fucking myself up, let it out, then let me go to my
room to suffer, ground me and speak no more about it. But they won’t, they will make passive-aggressive remarks, and then I will
never hear the end of it, making me feel guilty endlessly.
“Sophie?” My mom’s emotion strained voice catches me, sheer disappointment on her face and I can only hang my head in
shame again. I slide away from the table, avoiding my father’s angry glare and make a move to leave. “I thought you were
trying?” My mother’s pained voice hits me hard in the heart. She obviously doesn’t believe that I suspect someone spiked my
drink, all they see is Sophie going off the rails again.
Still. Whatever.
“I am trying... ... but sometimes trying involves falling off your horse once or twice. Or sometimes, some shithead comes along
and spikes your drink for shits and giggles and then your family don’t fucking believe you.” I snap at her, hoping to God going
back to bed calms down the overwhelming nausea, rage, and pounding head so I can deal with my parents later.
“Sophie, stop right there.” My father’s commanding tone is a rare thing, I stop obediently, more from shock than anything, that he
might actually try to control wild little me in some paternal way this time, and not let my past make him wimp out. He gets up and
comes to meet me at the table where I am standing. “I know you are trying, and I trust that Emma is taking good care of you, but
I really think we should consider a live-in establishment for a little while, until you can stop drinking. I think it’s time we put our
foot down with you because enough is enough.”
I blink at him in sheer stupefaction. Pretty sure my bottom jaw hits the floor and my mom just sits there like a goddamn zombie,
in silence. This was so not what I had in mind when I thought I wanted them to set more boundaries with me. I have no idea how
to react.