copyright Anie Michaels 2015 Subject to change.
An incessant buzzing, accompanied by an irritating beeping, pulled me out of a dead sleep, which had only been brought on by vodka and chocolate. I groaned, but rolled over slowly, blindly reaching around for my phone. When my fingers finally found it, I peeped one eye open, painfully, but all I could see was the dark veil created by my raven hair. I used my hand to sweep it aside and managed to swipe my finger over the screen of my phone, bringing it to life.
I winced from the bright light, but managed to silence the alarm that was blaring throughout the room. I tossed the phone onto the nightstand and rolled back over, ignoring the aching in my muscles and the jackhammer in my head.
That was the fourth morning my alarm had woken me up. It was a residual alarm left over from my previous life. It used to be the alarm that would remind me every morning to take my birth control pill. It was now the alarm that reminded me to not drown in my current pool of self-pity and hatred. I didn’t have any birth control pills to take. I, in fact, didn’t have anything with me aside from the clothes on the floor I’d been wearing when I fled from my life, the groceries I’d thought to buy before I’d checked into this motel, and my purse.
I was a mess. I’d been in this bed for the majority of the last four days and I felt it. Up until now, I’d not felt the need or want to change my situation. I’d wanted to stay in bed forever, sleep as long as the vodka would let me, and try desperately not to deal with the catastrophe I’d left behind. But I hadn’t left it behind; it seemed to have followed me here and was now seeping back in. Reality.
Reality was a bitch.
I groaned again as I moved off the bed, flinging the scratchy comforter off my body, and swinging my legs over the edge of the mattress.
“Holy fucking crap,” I whispered to nobody but myself. I rubbed a hand over my face, my nose crinkling up at the gross condition of my skin. I needed a shower. More than I needed anything ever, I needed a shower.
I ambled through the small motel room and found the bathroom. Switching the faucet on, I waited for the water to heat. When it was as hot as I could stand, I pulled the stopper up and watched the water fall like rain.I climbed in, letting the harsh, hot water pelt me, stinging all the way down to my feet. I went about the business of washing the grime from my body. The tiny bottles I’d had the thought to buy at the grocery store weren’t enough to last very long, but it was enough for now. As I washed my body, I held my cries in. I’d managed not to cry up until now, and I didn’t intend to ever cry over Derrek or Preston.