Vanilla Scents

Make Me Forget

I could feel myself breaking. Bits and pieces of the mask I've put on falling apart, and it makes my heart run marathons, my brain working on overdrive, and breathing was getting increasingly harder by the second.

Suffocating.

Maybe that's how I found myself here. Hot, sweaty, sticky. The pounding from the bass competes with the pounding of my heart and I almost can't hear my thoughts. Almost. Albeit muffled, the words from earlier are still running through my head. Shot after shot, glass after glass, alcohol seems to be slowly dulling the words in my head.

You'll never support yourself. You're not going back to school. I'm tired of taking care of you.

I knew that every word was true. College-dropout. Living on the couch. Eating take-out more than I'd like to admit. Hell, I don't even leave the house. The money in my checking account dwindling down to nothing faster than I could blink.

It had only been a couple of months. Maybe two? Not counting the summer. My family was pretty indifferent to me leaving. They're older and never really regarded college as necessary. I had been the one to force it. The one who insisted that if I don't go, I'll never make something of myself.

I threw back another shot of lime vodka. It burned my throat the entire way down, settling like rocks in the pit of my stomach. Or maybe that was the guilt. The guilt of begging my dad to pay for my semesters, for my mom working extra shifts to send me to the fancy out-of-state school because "I don't want to stay in Alabama. I hate it here."

But look where I am now. Back in Auburn, a failure. Drowning out my sorrows in alcohol like the pathetic, worthless bitch I am.

It's only a matter of time before someone finds out I'm underage and kicks me out. I'm actually amazed the fake ID got me this far considering I'd never used it before. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

I'm not sure what pushes me onto the dance floor. Was it the pain in my heart slowly subsiding? Was it the guilt being drowned out by the sting of vodka; the harsh voices slowly getting more and more muffled? Maybe it's just the fact that I am so tired, and the music is so loud and I am feeling everything and nothing and the thought that maybe grinding against some hot, sweaty bodies would help me forget.

I'm not sure.

Author's Note 🐇

Hello, little beans! back with another story! what do you think so far? Thoughts, feelings? Predictions???

*Updates every day until complete! 🐾🤍