Golden Girl

15. Greygoose

I await for Sienna to answer my question.
"Well?" I ask getting irritated.
Logan cleared his throat.
"How about we uh, board the taxi."
"Not like we have a choice." I muttered. Why didn't Sienna answer my question?
I grabbed the handle of the yellow taxi door, and noticed my hand slightly trembling. I still can't get over it. Every time I look at her I feel like she has somehow found out.
I jerk the door open, and sit by the left window, waiting for everybody to come inside, while drifting off into my own world of thoughts.

★

Realization hit me like a ton of bricks, as I put the pieces together.
She hasn't returned any of my calls, the reporters, the accident, the airport. She's dead.

I drop the bottle of nailpolish I was currently applying to my fingernails, onto the gray rug, causing it to splatter neon pink liquid all over the expensive carpet.
All of those bricks having an impact on me. I can barely hear my sobbing voice, over the ringing in my ears. I don't need to go on Wikipedia in order to know.
I sob into the carpet, until I feel arms wrap around my torso. I struggle and try to wrestle the person or people off of me, but they're too strong for me. I see Dylan and Logan trying to soothe me, but I don't even try to calm down. I feel my ribcage getting tighter with every breath I take. I see Sienna and Lucy burst through the door, pushing the boys out of the way.

"I'm so sorry Kiara," was all that Sienna said, before she enfolded me in her arms.
She knew. She knew all this time and she never told me.

★

~After The Funeral~

I hear a knock on my door.
"Leave me alone." I mumble from under the heated covers.
"Well I'm coming in anyways." I heard Dylan's voice from behind the door.
I tried to sink deeper into the covers. My guilt over Dylan is the last thing I need to worry about right now. Being as stubborn as be is, Dylan opens the door and strolls in.

"I knew I should have locked the door." I said under my breath.

"I heard that."

"Exactly."

I felt Dylan sit on the edge of my bed, which made me slightly uncomfortable. I'm being absurd aren't I?

"Come out." He begged.

"No."

"Please? It's been four days since you have been out of here."

"Well I would like to keep the streak going." I stated.

"If you don't I will pull you out." He declared.

"Good luck with that."

As soon as he pulled off the covers he slightly jumped.
My appearance was disgusting.
My hair was messy beyond repair, mascara stained my face, and I had dark circles, and red blotches from the endless string of crying.

"Um."

"Say another word and you won't have a mouth to say one."

He covered his mouth with his hand to be unable to speak.

"That's what I thought."
I disappeared into the closet, and came back with casual black leather leggings and a gray crop top that read
Cali•for•nia
In bold worn out letters.

"Where are you going?" I heard Logan's voice in the doorway.

"Somewhere. And none of you need to know."

★

You can probably guess where I went. The bar.

"What would you like today?" A cheery man who seemed to be the bartender, asked me.

I squinted at him.

"Grey Goose vodka." I said plainly.
This person doesn't belong here. He's... Happy.

He set down a half filled glass with the transparent liquid in front of me.
"Is that all?"
I looked at him, and pushed the glass towards him.
"I'm sorry. I may have not been clear. I want the whole bottle."
He gaped at me with wide eyes.
"Um are you sure about that it's kind of-"
"Yes I'm sure." I said firmly.

~

I slammed the half empty bottle down on the counter, as I sent the vile liquid down my throat. It burned, but I enjoyed it. Every little bit.
I saw a handful people turn heads and stare at me, but they were just a blur in the back of my mind, just like everything else. I don't care I had obligations, and an image to take care of. I don't care that this will be in the newest issue of People magazine or that this would be trending all over social media in minutes, or that there would be endless gifs about this. I'm already drunk, it doesn't matter, and it never will. All of those mistakes, that bathed me in guilt, are gone, they no longer have a place in my mind. I don't find myself being possessed by even a drop of remorse.

I stood up, and stumbled over my feet, landing in the floor. I just sit there feeling stranded, holding an almost empty bottle of vodka, and I begin crying like a toddler.
Well until a pair of arms picked me up.

"No!" I shout. I see everyone staring wide eyed.

"No! Leave me! Leave me like she did!" I was angry.

"I made mistakes, and now I'm owning up to them!" I continued.

I could here someones voice, but I barely recognized it. I barely knew who I was anymore.
I stopped squirming, and hurled the bottle to the ground, watching it shatter into hundreds of small pieces, everywhere.

"That my f-friends is what my life looks li-like." I drunkenly stutter to the crowd of people in the bar, motioning over to the scattered pieces of the broken bottle.
Nobody made a sound. Fits of coughing and gasps, were the only thing that broke the dead silence.

My intoxicated body gives up, and I let the arms pick me up once again and carry me home, and I buried my tear stained face in a warm shoulder covered by a white t-shirt. as the alcohol carried me into a deep sleep.