My nose wrinkled as I was dragged back into wakefulness. A shaft of light slipped through the gap in the curtains – far too bright and far too unwelcome. I winced and rolled away, throwing my arm over my face as I curled into the sofa cushions.
My nose twitched as the abrasive scent of stale sweat filled the air around me. Still, after a moment, I sighed as my muscles relaxed back into the cushions.
The peace didn't last.
A few seconds later, a loud pounding drumbeat reverberated through my skull. It took a moment to realise it wasn't a figment of my nightmares or my raging hangover. The sound was real.
There was a brief pause before another round of persistent knocking echoed through my tiny flat. Over and over again.
"Okay, I'm coming," I called, rolling over with a grunt.
My stomach protested the movement, an empty liquor bottle clattering to the floor as I stood.
I blinked down at it. The world wavered around me as I swayed on my feet. It was like being on a boat in choppy waters. I'd never had seasickness before but this was probably what it felt like. Disorientation and persistent nausea.
Pressing my lips together, I placed a steadying hand on the arm of the sofa as I took a look at my flat. My nose wrinkled at the state. Empty food cartons littered the table. Discarded clothes covered the floor. The rubbish bin was overflowing.
There was another loud knock on the door to my flat. My feet shuffled forwards, kicking a path through the chaos. Every step dragged as if I had weights attached to my ankles. The short trek to the door was exhausting. All I wanted to do was turn around and collapse back onto the sofa.
Another round of knocks sounded just as I got to the door. With a yank, I pulled it open and snarled, "What?"
"It's nice to see you too, pumpkin." My dad greeted, his voice kind even though his eyes widened at the sight of me.
"Dad," I greeted, blinking in confusion as I pulled the door close to my body. "Diane. What are you both doing here?"
I blinked, struggling to remember the last time I had spoken to someone other than the shop assistant as the corner shop. Too long.
It had been one long drinking session after another. I had been wallowing in alcohol and my own filth for hours, no days. I had been content existing in such a state.
Yet, standing before my family, and having someone else witness my rock bottom, was another matter entirely. My skin was grimy, alcohol and sweat seeping from my pores like I was a one person stale brewery. I stank. I hadn't realised how badly until I had opened the door.
My sister's lips were pursed. I couldn't quite figure out what she was thinking. I'm not sure I wanted to.
Regardless of the state I was in, my dad reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder. "We came to see you. Your friends called us because they have been worried about you."
"I don't have any friends." I retorted on instinct, my arms coming to fold over my chest.
"Oh, Rosie." My dad replied, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I think the people who care about you would be very disappointed to hear that."
My spine stiffened. My lip quivered for a moment before I pressed them into a thin line.
"Look, can we discuss this inside," Diane muttered, stepping forwards and pushing past me.
The door yanked out of my hand so quickly that I didn't have the time to stop her.
"Wait. No."
My stomach churned both at the reminder of the cheap vodka I had consumed the night before and the utter shame of how I had been living.
YOU ARE READING
The Secrets She Kept
General FictionEvelyn and Rosie had always been close. They were not just mother and daughter; they were best friends. At least, they were until disease stole away the woman Evelyn had once been. After an incident forces Rosie's hand, she soon comes to realise the...
