Last Night

Part 24

Leaning back in my chair at the office, I clung to the hope that my orange juice and acetaminophen would start whittling away at my hangover. It was pitiful really since it was my second dosage after four hours of no relief. I was not waiting the full six with this pounding headache. I'd barely kept the orange juice down.

Last night was a blur after I got home. I downed two of the four remaining bottles of Merlot sitting in my cabinet. One had a rooster on it and was scrumptious, every last drop of it, I think. To be honest, I couldn't remember which one I drank first. But when a bit came back up, it wasn't as unpleasant as I expected. Maybe I should get some chickens. At least then if a certain someone did ever get around to killing me, he'd then have to deal with the chickens. Maybe I could even train them to attack him. That'd be a fun surprise for him.

"Feel my wrath," I whispered and imagined chickens flying and attacking him from every direction. "You may strike me down here, but my flock will avenge me."

It might be nothing, but imagination and words, but it did make me snicker softly and that helped me smile. There had been so many nights where I'd wished for death. Normally it was in conjunction with wishing for Philip's life to be returned, but this ominous cloud really shouldn't be bothering me that much. This was not the darkest pit in my life, not really.

The rash on my hand was so close to disappearing, but in my drunken stupor I'd managed to claw at it enough to make it raw. A couple people eyed my bandaged hand, but never said anything about it. Guess they didn't want to get too involved with strangers as well.

That would've been smart. If only I'd stuck to that plan. It's how I got through the last two years with only Emily in my life.

Well, now I could return to that.

With a quick glance in the direction of the blasting rock music, I grinned to myself. Maybe one or two others could be counted these days.

There was a knock on my wall, followed by a soft whisper. "Well, at least you only look like shit. Rough night?"

I turned around partially to glance up at Janiel. Apparently, I still owed her an apology because she was still being unreasonably bitchy to me. "I've had better."

She stepped in closer so her voice could lower more and not be overheard by nosy neighbors. "I take it you didn't get laid? Because you know, normally that's supposed to help relax you."

I sighed, closing my eyes as I took in a few calming, deep breaths. "I'm sorry if I've upset you, Janiel. I know I was really snappy earlier this week and you didn't deserve it. I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad." She looked at me with a somewhat blank stare. "I just thought you could use some action."

Either she was still royally pissed about something or, I don't know. "Hey, are you okay? This isn't like you to be so passive-aggressive and direct. Did something happen?"

"No, I'm fine. Unlike you."

"Okay, I get it. I'm hungover at work and I've been a grouch lately. There's just been a lot going on in my life that I'm trying to deal with." I turned away from her and cupped my face. I really did not need this right now.

"What's your excuse? Tiffany was the one who got roofied, not you." She leaned against the edge of my desk, pushing some papers out of the way.

"I know, I feel guilty enough. Don't remind me." I pushed my face into my hands more, trying to squeeze away the headache and my obnoxious cubicle-mate.

"Excuse me?"

I froze. The words that I uttered hitting me in the face like a baseball bat. Fuck, I shouldn't have said that. "I mean, I feel bad that she got sick. I wish I could've done something to help."