Strings Attached

~Chapter 14~

The silence in the room is so uncanny that it's very density speaks of our doom. Both of us of the guilty party look anywhere but at her. 

"Your bloodshot eyes tell me all; that you drank not less than four bottles before picking up a fight or picking up a girl who knows nothing better than selling herself," she states the bare facts and we cringe visibly. As for me, I now have a remote remembrance of where I spent the night before coming here.

And it's enough stimulation for my gut to puke itself at the woman's feet.

_____

After I've made a grandly embarrassing show of myself, I have some toast on Seth's mum's insistence, and then I drag the bloke to his room to get the story of my not-so-glorious night out from him.

"Claimed to save my arse, did you?" I ask him directly, and he gives an unsure nod. "How?" His eyes widen a little at my query. "Man, you were drunk that bad?! Like, you don't remember a thing?" "Are you gonna tell me today or do you need a sock to the jaw?" I ask him with a glare.

"Alright, fine. Sheesh. You're such a brooding girl sometimes. Can't you guess, though? You're not at your place, but at mine and I'm not physically capable of carrying you there," he reasons, and I think a little before answering.

"Hiba?" I ask him, dreading the answer and yet, knowing it to be true. "That'd be the one. Yeah." And I can't stop the cuss word that escapes my mouth.

"I was with the boys passing near her house at around 2, and I saw you getting out the door, no shirt and all. We helped you put your tee back on, by the way. She was kinda trying to drag you back in. Anything coming back, yet?"

I don't answer him for a while. All I'm stuck at is the thought of the rest of the gang going out without me. And although it's such a sissy thing to carp about, I can't help feeling bitter. Not a single phone call. And then I remember that my phone is long dead. Drat it!

"Where were you coming from?" I ask him anyway, and he looks at me, surprised. "Oh, we were at the movies. Harte's treat. He won some competition, this time with a partner. And then Chuck suggested a restaurant cum bar he'd been frequenting recently. It's newly opened, on the other side of the city. Pretty cool. It even has karaoke. You should try it, bro."

A bad taste of jealousy, topped with a bit of anger is slowly filling my mouth. Here they have a friend, going through a f***ing tsunami in his life and there they are, thoroughly enjoying themselves and getting drunk on vintage wine without sparing a thought for him. Poor excuse for friends I've got.

"I tried to call you to come join us. But then I remembered your phone wasn't working. You okay, man? You've gone awfully quiet."

I wish I could run away somewhere and never look back. But I can't, not now, at least. And thinking about how being stuck is so da*n frustrating, I give him a half-hearted nod.

"Have you gone to the PoG yet, after... what happened?" he asks me slowly, afraid that I might blow up any minute. If he keeps asking me such pointless questions, I think I eventually might. Blow up, I mean.