Downright Misfits (Downright Delinquents 2.0)

Chapter Ten

When the alarm blares in my ear the next morning, I jolt awake and hurry to turn it off.

My head is screaming. I place a hand to my mouth. Slowly, I peel back the blankets. Constance is staring at me. Her arms are folded across her chest as she stares at the empty bottle lying on the floor.

Staggering to my feet, I push past her and down the hallway. The room is spinning. I grip the walls. I'm still partly drunk. I trip over my own feet and my knee hits the tiles painfully. I empty my stomach into the toilet bowl. A burning sensation rips through my throat. I hear the disgusted sounds and mutters from other girls who are coming in and out of the bathroom. I sit back on my calves and wipe my mouth, shaking.

When I'm back in the room, I throw a hoodie over my head—one I stole from a guy whose name I don't recall—and stare at myself. Dark eyes. Pale skin. Flat hair.

Constance's hand flings across the doorway when I try to leave.

"Don't you ever go through my things again," she says through gritted teeth. Her eyes narrow as she leans in. Her unruly hair is tamed back into a high bun, making her face look a lot harsher than usual. "Got it?"

My stomach falls. I can't meet her eyes. Instead, I stare at the ground.

"Got it."

Her dark eyes give me a once over and her lip curls. "You look like shit."

"I know."

Constance removes her arm. I don't look up as I pass her, dragging my feet.

I feel better when the hot coffee hits my tongue. I lap it up, hoping it will cure me of this dreadful hangover. The monstrous pounding in my head makes me want to close my eyes and never open them again.

Wren doesn't turn up for any of our classes, and I'm relieved he doesn't have to see me like this. I keep my hood up the entire day, sinking low into my seat. A few times I fall asleep and wake when I'm almost out of my chair.

When classes finish, I go straight to my room. Constance doesn't come back, and I wonder if she is avoiding me. I swallow down a Valium and close my eyes, hoping tomorrow will be a better day.

***

I'm not sleeping well. I've spent all the cash Harold gave me, Harlow trading the notes for alcohol every night. I know Constance smells it on my breath when I pass her. She isn't speaking to me.

Wren has been gone all week, and I hate that I notice his absence like a slap in the face each morning.

When Sunday rolls around, I realise I haven't left my bed for over twenty-four hours. Not to get water, not to go to the toilet, nothing. I took almost an hour to convince myself to shower.

I shuffle down the hall after bathing and force myself to get some food. I don't feel hungry or thirsty, but I would have to be. I've had this happen a few times now, where numbness eats away at me until there is nothing left.

His fingers are rough as they brush my hair back from my face.

I open my eyes. I close them again.

His hand is moving up my leg.

The door of my room opens and Constance strides in, hauling her bag behind her.

"Please tell me you've left this room this weekend."

"I have," I say.

She sends me a disbelieving look.

"I'm sorry. About taking your drink. I've left you money on your pillow."

"I would have given you the bottle, Addy. It's the invasion of privacy," she frowns. "What's going on with you?"