Til Death Do Us Part (1)

~ 6 ~

The next morning, I woke up with a splitting headache. My eyes slipped open, to be met with an empty house. I was still laying on the floor, having no idea what the hell had happened the night before. My head was pounding, like a jackhammer raging against my skull.

I slowly sat up, rubbing the palm of my hand against my temple. I looked to my left, nothing. I looked to my right, still nothing. I could have sworn that I wasn't alone last night. Surrounding me were mounds of empty glasses and beer cans, with food wrappers everywhere. What a mess. It wasn't like me to leave the place dirty, before going to bed. What the fuck happened last night?

I stood up cautiously, my head spinning. I maintained my balance, scratching my head, as I slowly made my way out to the kitchen. I poured myself a glass of water, retrieving some tablets to help soothe my headache. I carried my water over to the counter, taking a seat, resting my head in my hands. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a sheet of paper on the counter. I could see the squiggles of writing filling the page. With my headache still severe, I decided to read the note later.

I swiftly finished off my water, sluggishly making my way towards my bathroom to shower. Along the hallway, I crashed from wall to wall, my head still in a spinning turmoil, as I slowly made my way to the bathroom. A sudden wave of nausea took over, as I sprinted to the toilet, throwing up everything inside of me. I fucking hate hangovers.

I sat back, leaning against the bathtub, breathless and sweating profusely. I still felt a lump in my throat, the possibility of throwing up again evident. I grabbed ahold of the toilet roll, tearing off a sheet. I cleaned up the mess I had made, grimacing as I did so. It was as though I could feel the germs seeping through my skin, making themselves at home in my body, ready to make me ill.

I hopped in the shower, wanting to rid myself of the dirt, making myself smell like roses once again. I scrubbed and I scrubbed, spending at least an hour in there for sure.

Once I was satisfied, I turned the water off, and stepped out. I wrapped a towel around my waist, grabbing another one to dry my hair. I stood in front of the mirror, studying my now dire features; my skin pale, my eyes bloodshot, bags surfacing underneath. What a night.

I walked through to my bedroom, grabbing the first clothes I could find. I put on some grey sweatpants, and my Stranger Things t-shirt. I combed my hair over to one side, attempting to look somewhat presentable. I don't know who for, it's not like I was planning on seeing anyone that day.

My headache was beginning to ease, as the morning went on. I strolled back into the kitchen, ready to make myself some food. I walked past the counter, noticing the note again. I picked it up, reading the contents out loud.

"Sal,

Sorry to just up and leave you, but the cats need me. Plus, Hannah wanted to see me. Last night was fun with the guys, even though I don't remember much after you told us about the break up. Hope you're not too sick, you were completely wrecked last night, Man.  

Text me when you get this.

Brian :)"

I crossed my eyebrows, as I repeatedly read through his note. So, Brian doesn't remember much of last night either? Weird. We must have been too intoxicated to even control what we were doing.

I texted Joe, as I knew that he'd remember the events from the previous night.

S: Hey Bud, what the fuck happened last night? I woke up completely fucked.

J: You don't remember? Shit, Dude. Let's just say, you and the others had a real good time ;)

That's when it hit me. That's when the images of last night emerged into my brain.