The Story of a Slut

Chapter Four

RECAP:

I Woke up in the morning and he was gone. Just like the rest on them, he had left. He was no different. And I thought it was love? Stupid player.

Tears flowed down my cheeks way harder than they ever had for a boy before.

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I was sobbing into my pillow when a thought formed in the back of my mind. Maybe he was still here! Maybe Brandon was just in the bathroom or the kitchen making breakfast? I sat upright in bed and wiped away tears, combing my hands through my hair and hoping I didn't look too bad. I knew I didn't though, my 'skin' was never blotchy or red or anything. Always perfectly tanned.

Swinging my bare legs over the bed, I stood up and slipped on my fuzzy blue housecoat. I was so sure I would find Brandon in the kitchen, making frying an egg or cooking pancakes!

The wooden floor was cold on my bare feet and the beach house seemed dead silent, as per usual. I didn't let my hopes down though. The kitchen was pretty far away, and he wouldn't be making much noise would he?

I closed my eyes when I reached the door to the kitchen adn turned the knob slowly, opening... I squinted open my eyes and...

Nothing.

I felt my heart drop when I saw that empty place. I ran over to the front and looked for his car before remembering he had walked here with me. Maybe he had gone to find his car? Maybe he was still in the house?

"Brandon?" I screamed, hearing echoes from across the house. Nope, didn't seem to be inside. But, maybe, maybe he was getting his car?

I walked back to my room and reached in my bedside drawer, past a package of un-used condoms (hopefully), and found my iPhone, latest design, not for public sale yet. Scanning my contacts, I was surprised to find I didn't even have his number! I'm such a fail at life. I had told him my name and where I lived and then just gone on a date with him? I had slept with him, for God's sake! And I didn't know his last name!

I went to the small-house-sized bathroom and started going through the piles of makeup and accsessories to find my hair brush and curler. After my hair was perfection, I did my eye makeup, done so perfectly any makeup artist would be green with envy. I looked beautiful and I knew it.

And yet, Brandon had left me. Why?

When I went back downstairs an hour had past and I was forced to assume he wasn't coming back. Swallowing the feeling of rejection, I made a breakfast of strawberry yogurt and orange juice. After a few spoonfuls of the yogurt, however, I felt tears prickle my eyes again.

"F*ck this.." I muttered and opened the pantry door , reaching around on the floor until my hand wrapped around the neck of a familiar bottle. I smiled sadly and pulled out the cork.

"Hello old friend," I whispered before pressing it to my lips and drinking heavily. The pure vodka burned, but I was used to it. Every time I slept with someone I felt awful and although I tried to move on I always ended up drinking the next day.

What can I say? Alchol is always there for you when you need it.

After the room started to spin I set the bottle down and started to giggle.

"Brandon you DOUCHE!" I screamed to noone, giggling hystarically. "You're just as bad as Daddy! Haha! You both are all 'I'm here for you! I love you!' and then you go run off and leave me to sleep with stupid sluts! DADDY DON'T HAVE SEX WITH HER! SHE GOES TO MY SCHOOL! BUT YOU NEVER LISTENED DADDY! Well, you know what, take that Pops! Now I'm the slut, and I'm a hell of alot prettier than my little miss skank number thirty two." I slumped over the kitchen table. "Brandon sure was good in bed. Mmmm. That's all I needed anyway. Love isn't real. Love is just a scam for prudes who can't give good sex."

In my drunken state, I didn't realize how loud I was yelling until I heard a bunch of teenage boys snickering outside the kitchen window. I rolled my head to look at them. One was pretty cute, about sixteen with shaggy brown hair and mishchivious blue eyes. I yanked open the window and yelled, "Hey cutie! You with the bieber-hair? Come in here and I'll show you how it's done when you're older." I winked seductivly and the boy looked shocked. His friends whispered into his ear and he smirked, sauntering up to the back door, knocking. I took another swig of vodka before staggering to open the door and pressing myself agaisnt him hard. The rest was a blur, I had bits and pieces of memories but nothing more. I remembered he was shorter than me, that had bothered me quite a bit. I think a blow job had taken place at some point. He left around 6pm, carrying my bra like a flag in the wind. Another blur of alchohol and I had found myself sitting on the back porch, butt naked, staring at the sunset over the ocean with no memory of what had happened.

Still not sober, my hands fumbled as I tried to lock the door after I was safely inside. I slipped on something and knocked my head on the wall. Swearing in pain, I closed the lock and threw myself onto the couch, knowing I would make it no farther.

The last thing I heard before blackness crept over me was somebody knocking frantically at the door.