The Unexpected

2:35 a.m.

It's 2:35 a.m.
I don't know who I am. I open my eyes. From what I can make out in the moonlight, I am pale, with many straight-lined scars and bruises on my stomach and arms. I can't help but notice that my breasts are fully exposed and im in a pair of boxers. I'm in a dark small room-with a throbbing head ache. I'm starting to access memory. I live in New York, my name is Violet, i'm 16, I live with my grandmother, and I drink a lot. As I stand up and search for the light switch, I knock over some empty Vodka and beer bottles. I feel all over the warm, rough, cemented wall and flick on the light switch. The walls are painted dark purple; I sleep on a queen sized mattress, on top of another. I have nothing but a dark grey sheet and a black blanket. The room is pretty clean-except for the clothes on the floor that i might have worn yesterday. Everything seems to be organized; the CDs are in alphabetical order, as well as the books that are stacked up against the wall. I open up one of the drawers and grab a random shirt. I pull the shirt over my head and straighten it out a bit; it's a plain dark grey shirt-fits not too big and not too small. I turn off the light and walk to the bed. I try to get back to sleep but I suddenly got the urge to drink. I rush and drag my hand against the edges of the mattress-looking for a bottle of alcohol while holding a shot glass in my other hand. I bite my lip gently as i pour the alcohol in to the glass, and gulp that glass of fire down. I go for one last shot, and after that,i'm out.