Forgetting the Murder

15: Sleepovers

This isn't the first time I've went without much sleep. I've done it a few times. This isn't me saying I'm good at it, though! I've stayed up because we had an early flight, or because I couldn't sleep as I had a test the next day. Things like that. Never have I not been able to get to sleep though because I was too scared to fall asleep.

Except when I was very young, I was sure there was a monster under my bed and if I fell asleep the monster would grab me and take me to it's liar and have me for dinner. Dad used to tell me that I can fight the monster off with the book beside my bed. 

Now, the monster is not underneath my bed, and it's not part of my imagination. Staying awake won't stop the monster from getting me, it will just slow the monster down. The monster will come eventually though, and I won't be able to fight against it.

This time the monster is reality.

***

I heard Emily come in late last night. She was talking on the phone. It was a weird conversation too. It went along the lines of:

"I don't know what to do! I'm scared!"

Silence, clearly the other person on the phone talking.

"I can't tell Abby! She'll freak!"

Silence.

"Like, I mean, she'll take a spaz attack. You should've seen her last time it happened."

Silence.

"Right, see you. Night,"

What happened that she couldn't tell me about? It kept me awake for most of the night. When morning finally came I realised that I had fallen asleep. The light streaming in from the crack in the curtains blinded me and gave me a headache. I could practically feel the dark black bags that were lurking under my eyes. Me without sleep is not a good combination.

Emily's conversation on the phone from last night still stayed in the back of my mind, it was really bothering me. Considering that I still haven't talked to Emily in a while I had no idea what was going on. Although she did say it had happened before. Questions like these took over my mind.

Mum and Dad seemed to have disappeared somewhere so I took this as my chance to talk to Emily. I walked into her room to check on her. The curtains were still drawn and Emily was submerged by her bed covers. Overall the room was a complete state with clothes, make up and general clutter scattered over the floor and furniture. The room had a stale stench of alcohol, probably vodka, making me gag.

I decided I wouldn't talk to her, I was too disappointed. It all added up. Emily obviously went clubbing every other day and then the days in between were spent recovering from her killer hangover. She had turned into a binge drinker, what I hated most in the world. I sighed deeply and left the room.

Emily's decisions had left me furious. I was ready to pick a fight with just about anyone or anything who even so much as talked to me. I started to punch my bedroom door repeatedly. Although my feeble punches did more harm to my fist than the door. I could tell the marks on my hand will bruise later.

I lay down on my bed and slammed my head against the pillow. There was a reason I hated alcohol, there's always a reason for people's choices.

I was sixteen and in high school. I had one friend, her name was Kirsty and she was practically my sister. One day, in late December, there was a massive party at someone's house that everyone in the year was invited to. Kirsty begged me to go but I couldn't as my parents wanted me to go to my Aunt's house for dinner.