Saturday
The worst thing about me is that I'm always consciously picking the wrong decision. It's as if I care so little about my well-being that it doesn't matter if it goes wrong. And this is exactly why I am going to the frat party.
It's been two weeks since Derek got shot. We all also had to talk to the police and answer a few questions but luckily they let us go. Irène still has to work it out with her lawyer but it's pretty much considered self-defense.
I still can't believe everything that happened, it feels surreal. Was I kidnapped and was Derek really on the verge of death? Or am I on drugs and just hallucinating?
I think about the night I was kidnapped in every small detail. I repeat the movement I did that night, everything, down from when I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings and when I hoped Derek would go out of his way to talk to me again, even when he clearly moved on. And I concluded that I'm absolutely pathetic and no wonder bad things happen to me. I'm careless and stupid.
I never do anything right.
Needless to say, my suspension decision was canceled and I only got a warning. It helped that I mentioned the assault our friends and I had to endure. But I didn't mention that I was first kidnapped, that would force me to tell my mom and also file a report against those men and I know damn well they are already after us, that's the last thing we want.
I'm back at the college dorms and I had to leave my car at the repair shop the whole week, but I got it back this morning fully repaired. The bill was painful.
I frantically search for my car key on my desk and I could swear I left it here yesterday.
I suddenly notice the key under the bed and I pick it up, a bit confused but I don't give it much thought.
Nicole is sleeping in late today, although we have to study since we are behind, and hopefully they won't kick me out of this college like I originally hoped. One warning, and then just expulsion if I ever prove myself unworthy of this college.
I wouldn't know what to do with my life and my flashbacks would slowly kill me if my mind isn't busy with school stuff.
My face isn't as bruised as previously but foundation and concealer can be a miracle when used in abundance on dark bruises.
I quietly leave the dorm. I have to meet up with Irène for the party.
She's been off since she killed two men. Where did she even learn to shoot like that? The first bullet was perfectly pointed at the head in a darkened room with a moving subject. She didn't look scared at all.
"Hey," I say as I spot Irène out of the dormitory halls.
She eyes me up and down and makes a disgusted face.
"What's wrong with my dress today?"
"It's not revealing enough," she replies and I chuckle.
Yeah, of course. I'm wearing a tight black dress that is short but nothing compared to how short her navy blue dress is. Her boobs can barely breathe in it, and if she bends she will flash her underwear to all of us.
"I can't believe I'm still going to parties," I say a bit disappointed with my decision.
But I desperately need to distract my mind and studying doesn't help.
"I can't believe you are surprised. Vero, you will always be like that," she says and I look at her a bit taken back.
What does she mean? Does she think I cannot change?
Maybe she is right, people like me never get better, no matter how hard we try.
"How come you have a gun?" I change the subject and she freezes for a second before opening the door of my car.
We decided to go with my car this time but I know she already regrets it.
"How come you have such a cheap broken car?" she mocks me and I roll my eyes.
Irène notices me rolling my eyes and she sighs as I enter the driver's seat and I put the seatbelt on.
"It's pretty close. Are you scared?" she asks as she notices my seatbelt clipped tightly to my chest.
I scoff. "I'm not reckless."
I am reckless but just not that reckless and stupid.
"You have a death wish," I say amused. So do I.
But I don't want to kill innocent people or get arrested.
"Don't we all?" she points out in a monotone voice and I think about her answer for a few seconds.
I always wondered if everyone else felt like me, if they struggle to survive and just work on autopilot mode. Existing, not living.
Soon we reach the fraternity house, it's not far from the campus. They throw the biggest parties here that are not filled with high schoolers like the parties I attended two years ago.
"Oh, hey," a male voice speaks as he wraps his arm around Irène's waist.
I don't recognize him, but he smiles at me and lets us enter the party filled with hormonal college kids.
Irène smirks and she frees herself from his hold. She pulls me toward her.
"Do you know him?" I scream as the music makes it impossible for us to hear each other.
"Of course, babes," she replies. "Now, let's drink." She goes to the kitchen and she makes herself at home as if she's been here every day. She takes two bottles of vodka and gin.
"Do you need both?" I yell at her through the harsh house music.
"Watch." She opens the gin bottle with her teeth and she grabs two cups from the top shelf on her tiptoes. She is lucky she is quite tall, I'd need a chair to reach it and I don't even consider myself short.
She pours a bit of vodka and mixes it with gin, the cup isn't that big but enough to get drunk.
Irène hands me one of the glasses and before I drink it, she chugs hers.
Is she okay? She just came here and she couldn't even wait to get a drink.
"Drink it all," she yells in my ear and I get shivers down my spine.
I do as she says and I bring the cup closer to my lips, slowly letting the hard liquor on my tongue. It burns when I gulp. I forgot what it was like to drink.
It's so much stronger now. It's been a year and a half since I last had any hard alcohol other than a small glass of wine here and there.
She grabs the vodka bottle and she grips it hard in her hand.
"Let's dance," she says and before I can reject her she puts my hand in hers and grabs me toward the living room filled with fraternity boys and some rich girls.
I follow her lead and awkwardly dance along as she lets go and completely forgets about everyone else. The navy dress hugs her curves and when she moves, it's impossible to look away. Everyone is enthralled by her. Women. Men. Anyone.
She pulls me in closer and she wraps her arms around my waist. I can feel her vodka breath on my cheek and I know I must smell just as bad. Why is vodka so smelly?
She doesn't catch a breath as she continues to move to the music. I look at her red green eyes and I notice the bruise on her head from when the kidnapper hit her when she shot the first man. Luckily Dominic saved her from imminent death.
She chugs the vodka bottle, not even bothering to use cups any more.
Irène is fine, she is a strong girl. No one can ruin her but tonight she seems different. She doesn't care, her guard is completely down and she just wants to drink.
I get closer to her ear, my lips slightly touching her light blonde hair as she slows down her dance. "Are you okay?" I ask concerned, the alcohol still not settled in for me, at least.
"Why? Yeah," she mutters and I take a step back unsure.
"You don't really seem fine," I reiterate and she rolls her eyes as she continues dancing, pulling me closer to her again.
"Don't you miss it, Vero? Freedom," she whispers in my ear. "When no one exists anymore. Just you and the alcohol. It's a drug, it really is. But you remember how good it feels, don't you? Those few hours of euphoria, stupid confidence and the time slows down and the whole world spins. You aren't scared anymore and nothing affects you."
And she is right. I look into her big emerald eyes and she already looks too drunk but there is truth behind her slurred words. It felt so damn good. Freedom.
Irène peeks at me through her long black eyelashes and she hands me the vodka bottle with a sly smirk on her face.
"Do it." She mouths without making any audible sound over the loud music but I perfectly understand.
Should I do this? One night, one more drink. A few hours of freedom. Oh god, I need it so badly. I can already feel the anticipation of the burning liquid down my throat, filling my empty stomach with alcohol I shouldn't have. The confidence pumping through my veins. My heart beating harshly against my chest as the alcohol reaches my system. The courage. The damn courage to do anything I want to do. I miss it.
I went to rehab for cocaine. I'll be fine. I'll be fine. I'll be fine. I'll be fine. I'll be fine. I'll be fine.
I continue repeating it in my mind as I grab the bottle and I bring it to my lips, already tasting some of Irène's lipstick and vodka on it.
It's not a big deal, it's just a bit of alcohol. I'll be fine.
"Come on. Not that hard," she yells, slowly losing her patience. To her, it's not a big deal, but to me it is.
I tilt my head back and I suddenly block out everyone, the music, the people, Irène, Derek, the kidnapping, sexual assault, my dad's death.
I tilt the bottle too and I let the liquid travel to my mouth. I chug it until I need to breathe.
"Good girl," Irène whispers as she continues to dance. I notice a lot of frat guys staring at us, some of them talking about us.
But I can feel the burning vodka in my throat, traveling to my stomach and my body immediately warming up.
It's nice.
I dance with Irène, our bodies slowly grinding against each other. Her fingers digging into my sides, her breath fastening against my skin, and the room getting hotter.
But I imagine it's Derek.
They say alcohol brings out the truth. I hate that. I don't want to let him ruin my good time but I can't help it. For a split second, I see Derek, gripping my body, pulling me as close to him as humanly possible. His strong arms fully wrapped around my waist. His aftershave flooding my nostrils. His warm mouth on my neck, slowly teasing me, anticipating the touch. The tongue.
Derek is the most potent drug and not even rehab can help me.
I suddenly break the weird intimate dancing with Irène and I widen my eyes. I shouldn't think about Derek.
Irène doesn't even notice me as I chug the vodka bottle again.
I want to be so drunk I can't form one coherent thought. I want to be so drunk I forget his name and the cold empty heart he left behind.
"Slow down, you're going to pass out," a voice behind me speaks.
I turn around but the motion sickness gets to me, making the world a bit blurry.
I squint my eyes to see better. "Antonia," I mutter annoyed. "Why are you here?" I slur my words and she smiles.
"It's a party, not the first time I'm here," she says nonchalantly. "Plus Derek is fine now, I don't have to babysit him anymore."
I chuckle irritated. "Oh babe, you never had to. Promise you, he knows how to take care of himself."
"Hmm," she mumbles as she looks at Irène. "Perhaps not."
Antonia walks away before I can say anything else. She isn't worth thinking about, let alone being jealous of her.
"What h- happened..." Irène stutters as she almost trips to walk next to me. I grab her before she falls and she lets all her weight on me.
"You're surprisingly heavy," I point out. I'm drunk, but not as drunk as she is. Sadly.
I guide her to the hallway so we can go to the bathroom but she kneels on the floor. A few girls look at us weirded out.
"Get up," I tell Irène but she is already laying on the floor. I try to block out the blurry vision and ringing ears.
She pulls my arm and I fall next to her, almost hitting my head against the wall.
Irène laughs and I roll my eyes, not bothering to stand up again. My head already hurts and the "fun" I thought I'd have, suddenly doesn't seem as exciting.
She suddenly lets her head between her legs and I look around confused. Those girls at least left, but it won't be long until someone else comes and sees us like this on the floor.
I let out a shallow breath as my head starts spinning. Suddenly I hear a whimper.
My eyes travel to Irène. She is sobbing with her head resting on her knees. I double-check to make sure she is actually crying and not laughing because there is no way miss Irène Leroy is capable of producing tears.
I don't know what to say. Is it the alcohol that is making her emotional? I don't feel any better and I don't know how to comfort people. Especially not Irène, the heartbreaker. Power-hungry, manipulator, male destroyer. Femme fatale.
I think many things of her, but clearly, I don't think she can have real feelings.
I awkwardly place my right hand on her back, and I try to comfort her.
"What happened? Are you okay?" I ask confused.
She doesn't lift her head, she stares at the blank wall as the mascara streams down her face, ruining the full face of makeup.
"I- know what everyone thinks of me," she slurs between cries. "I agree with all of them."
"But they don't even know how bad it gets. I wish I was just a spoiled bitch," she sniffles.
"What do you mean?" I ask as my vision slightly darkens from all the alcohol. I try not to think about how much vodka I drank or I'll vomit.
"I'm a horrible person. Truly disgusting person. Not just the kind of girl who ruins your life in high school or who says a few mean things because she is bored." She looks at me for a few seconds, her eyes are filled with darkness. Regret. Disgust. I haven't seen that kind of self-hatred before, not even a day after I was raped.
I thought mine was bad, I thought no one hated themselves as I do but Irène doesn't only hate herself. Irène knows one hundred percent that she is objectively a shitty person and no one will ever think differently of her.
I had people care for me. Nicole, my parents, Derek. She knows she will never have that.
"I'm a murderer," she finishes and I look at her perplexed. She killed in self-defense. Is this why she is crying?
We only lived because she 'murdered' them, but they deserved it.
"You saved us. We could never thank you enough."
"I couldn't even save my sister!" she suddenly yells as inaudible tears come out. My eyes widen in shock. Sister?
"I murdered her. I killed my sister. I don't deserve your empathy or anyone's respect. I'm not like you, Veronica. I don't want someone to prove me I'm not shit because that would be a lie. I'm the shittiest person in the whole world and saving you and your stupid friends won't change shit," she spits.
My heart beats slow, my mind is confused and the alcohol isn't helping with my thoughts. I need to process what Irène just said but it's impossible.
Who is she? What is she saying? She has a sister?
"I don't understand... how did you kill her? You have a sister?"
"I had. She died because of me."
"Did you intentionally kill her?" I ask confused.
"It's as if I did." And with that, she stands up even though she almost trips over herself.
I try to reach her but she yanks away my arm. I don't insist.
"Don't fucking touch me. Go away," Irène says through gritted teeth as she walks away, not giving me another chance to speak.