bellman

party.

Arabella's p.o.v:

I leaned against the wall of the party that Mike dragged me to, and sipped on the Coke that I was drinking. The dress that I was told to wear by my boyfriend kept riding up, and I huffed again, tugging at the ends. It was too short and I was uncomfortable. My head was pounding and I wanted to go back to my apartment, lay in my bed and read or something. The last place I wanted to be was here.

I watched as Mike chatted with his friends, sipping his drink; some type of alcohol I presume.

I strutted over towards Mike and tapped his shoulder. He shrugged it off and continued talking with the group in front of him.

"Mike I want to go home", I tapped his shoulder again and he whirled around, with an annoyed look on his face.

"What the fuck do you want Arabella", his eyes blazed with the familiar look of anger and spite. I took a step back and spoke again.

"I want to go home. Will you take me back?", I bit my lip and looked around at all the drunk college students.

"I'm a little busy Ari, go away", he turned back around and now I was getting annoyed. He was the one who dragged me here, and now I have no way back to my apartment.

"You're my ride home Mike", I raised my voice slightly, in hopes that he would hear me.

"Fucking walk then Ari. You could use the exercise anyway", he rolled his eyes and took the last big gulp of his drink. I stepped back and my mouth fell open. Drunk Mike was an asshole. I pushed my way through the crowd and ignored the yells of drunk guys calling out to me.

I opened the door and the cold breeze hit my bare legs and arms. I shivered and started my journey towards my apartment building. I willed myself not to allow any tears. I breathed in and out.

I was so sick of Mike getting drunk and acting like this. It wasn't like he was just getting drunk every once and a while, he did it almost every night. And almost every night I end up crying in my bed because he says something out of line. My feet ached from the high heels that adorned my feet, and I reached down, taking them off. I walked barefoot along the practically empty streets of New York. I've lived here my whole life and for some reason, I had no clue where I was.

Fuck, slipped out of my mouth.

I pulled out my phone and let an even louder fuck come out of my mouth as I realized it was dead.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me?", I spoke loudly, to no one in particular.

To make things better, I didn't have a jacket with me. Goosebumps scattered across the skin on my legs and arms.

Anger bubbled inside me; anger for Mike. He was the reason that I was in this situation. His words echoed in my head and walked faster; more furiously.

Apparently that was a mistake; because just as soon as I sped up, I felt myself tumbling downward. I stuck my hands out to break the impact and yelped at the contact. The rough pavement scraped the sole of my palms, and blood slowly seeped to the surface. My knees began to sting, and I looked down, spotting blood.

I sat on the pavement for a minute and closed my eyes, trying not to let my frustration get the best of me. I stood up quickly, tugged the hem of my dress down and kept on walking.