Fire. My body is on fire.
My bed feels comfier than usual, though. Did I get new bedding? God, these sheets feel like ice on my hot skin.
My head feels like it's being split open with a dull axe, what the fuck happened?
I sigh and open my eyes, blinking at the white surrounding my entire body. Am I dead? Am I in a cloud? Fuckin' feels like it.
My lips smack together, a sour taste in my mouth making me cough. God, my throat is dry. Have I not had any water in a week? Maybe I hit my head and I actually just woke up from a coma. I close my eyes again, groaning and stretching out my body. My hands feel around the expensive bedding I'm cocooned in and suddenly it hits me:
This isn't my bed. This isn't my house.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I shoot up from the blankets, holding myself up on my hands and knees since I was asleep on my stomach. I try to look around but the sudden jolt makes my head ring. My face falls back down into the pillow, brows pinching up from the pain.
"Ah- shit. Okay, okay, mercy," I plead to no one, willing away the headache that's frying my last remaining brain cell. I'm facing the headboard of the bed, and when I finally open my eyes again I sit back on my ankles. The blanket falls from my shoulders and I realize the sun is what's making it so fucking hot in here.
"Morning. Don't freak out," a deep accent behind me makes me jump. I whip around in my spot, eyes landing on a freshly dressed Harry. He's sitting in a chair with his ankle resting on the opposite knee. His hands are rested on the arms of the chair and he looks far too amused.
I furrow my brows, unable to speak from both the confusion and the sandpaper in my throat. Freak out? Do I need to be...? Did we sleep together? Shit. I drank so much I can't even remember if we had sex.
Oh god. This is it, I'm ruined. One night is all it takes and I fucking did it.
"Woah, relax." He leans forward in the armchair facing the bed. "Why do you look like you're about to freak out? I said don't, everything is fine. You're fine." He sounds confused now, too.
"We didn't sleep together, right?" I ask, now shaking. My breathing is unsteady in my chest.
He shakes his head. "I wouldn't ever sleep with someone as drunk as you got," he says sternly. "Do you do that a lot? You passed out in the fucking bathroom with vomit down your clothes." He chuckles. My cheeks heat and I rub my hands over my face.
This is bad. I fucked up. I broke my streak of being good and now I'm sitting in a random hotel with a man that I don't know.
Wait, why is he in here if we didn't sleep together?
"I thought you said you were going to leave the keys and not come back?" I look up from my hands. "Why are you watching me sleep?" I pull the cover over my body more, feeling self-conscious at the realization that I don't know how long he's been here.
"Well, you hit your head a little which is how I found you. You didn't answer me after I heard a thud. You passed out before you changed, so I had to clean you up and put some new clothes on you. And then I put you in the bed." He shrugs casually like it's no big deal to do that to a complete stranger.
"But why are you here now?" I don't understand.
He fucking changed my clothes?!
"Figured I should make sure you woke up and ate something. I have a car waiting for you whenever you're ready to go back to... wherever you're staying. Hopefully, you didn't have any attractions to go see today, I'm sure you feel like shit." He grins.
"I'm not a tourist, I live here. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." I shuffle to the end of the bed and put my feet on the ground. My vision sways slightly as I try to stand, needing another minute before I finally can.
"Could have fooled me, I've never seen someone dance the way you and your girlfriend did in my club and be a resident. That was some straight up one-night-in-Vegas shit. Almost had to hose you two off," he rambles and glances sideways at me. "Why did she leave you here alone? You two like, swingers or somethin'?"
I walk towards the bathroom door and roll my eyes. Why is everyone so obsessed with women kissing other women? "She's not my girlfriend," I mutter. "I told her to leave, she isn't my babysitter." The bright light in the bathroom catches me off guard, making me flinch and bring my arm up to shield my eyes.
I look at myself in the mirror, even more confused than when I woke up. What the fuck am I wearing? When did my hair get put up? I peek my head out of the bathroom door, glaring daggers at Harry whos sitting chipper as a fucking bird, perfectly relaxed.
"What is this?" I gesture to my bright outfit. "Why am I dressed head to toe in yellow M&M clothing?"
He scoffs playfully. "Well, you didn't look comfortable in that dress especially after you threw up all over it, and it was either the yellow guy or the blue one, and I hate that blue fucker." He smirks and looks over the huge shirt and shorts on my body. "You should be thanking me, I was a good boy and didn't even look." His knee bounces as he pops a dimple.
"Thank you so much for getting me naked and not looking. You're my hero." I roll my eyes and turn back into the bathroom. I shut the door and peek down the inside of my shirt to make sure my bra is still on.
Phew. At least he didn't take that off.
I can't believe a stranger undressed me while I was unconscious and took care of me. What if he.. no. He wouldn't be sitting there if he did anything, right? Fuck, I feel like I'm going to be sick again.
I bend over the counter, my hands gripping the cold marble. Breathe, Brinna. You're fine. You can make up for this. It won't be like your parents. This is fine.
Tears start leaking out of my eyes and my lip trembles.
I'm weak just like them. I'm their blood, of course I would fuck this up. I am a fuck up. I was destined to turn out just like them. How did I let this happen?
A cry leaves my throat and I quickly scramble to turn on the sink before Harry hears my pathetic sobbing. I can't let him, or anyone, hear me be so weak. This is my own fault. I can't cry about things I brought on myself.
I look in the mirror and hate the person I see. Rage fills me and suddenly I can point out every single feature I got from my parents. I hate that I look so much like them. Why wasn't I enough for them?
I splash cold water on my face and stand up straighter. I need to go home. I need to go flush out my system and call a fucking rehab center, probably. Lord knows I'll end up there anyway, I'm no better than what I came from. One night of fun is too many and I hate myself for letting this happen.
My eyes shut, not wanting to stare at the failure in the mirror any longer. I stand around for a couple of minutes before gathering my clothes from last night and rushing out of the bathroom. My head is throbbing from both the hangover and the breakdown threatening to spill out. I just need to hold it in until I get home.
"I need to leave, right now." I keep my head down, rushing my words out to hide their shaking.
Harry stands from the chair and looks at me confused. "Are you crying?" he whispers. "Is it because I changed your clothes? Look, I'm sorry I did that, I would have left them but you were covered in vomit and I didn't want to leave you like that. I swear I didn't do-"
"Stop." I breathe out, not wanting to listen to his rambling anymore. "I'm fine. You didn't do anything wrong. You shouldn't have even helped me, I didn't deserve it. I fucked up." I grab my clutch off the nightstand and go back to the hotel room door, whipping it open in hopes he'll get the hint.
__
The car he had waiting for me, was his own, apparently. Harry drove me home in silence, not even playing music from his expensive car radio. My knees are facing the door and my head is resting on the cold glass window. It doesn't help much, but it's better than nothing right now.
All I want to do is be alone so I can release every pent-up emotion I have. I'm fully expecting a breakdown over this, after all, it's the stupidest thing I could have done.
Harry pulls up to the curb in front of my apartment building and I fly out of the door as fast as humanly possible, holding my heels in one hand and all of my clothes in my arm. I look like a psychopath right now, my hair is up in a messy nest, I'm wearing fucking candy clothes that are way too big on me, and I have no shoes on.
I keep my eyes forward, walking through the grass and into the hallway leading to my front door. I dig my key out of my clutch and fumble to unlock it, my palms being too sweaty to hold this tiny, stupid key straight.
I can feel it coming. I need to cry. I need to full-on, ugly snot cry and curl up in bed to die.
I finally unlatch the door and shove it open, noticing Harry's car still sitting by the sidewalk in my peripheral vision. Why the fuck is he still here? I'm perfectly fine. I don't need anyone watching me or worrying about me.
I slam the wood shut and lock the top latch again. Times like these would be nice to have a pet or something, anything warm and lively to cuddle with me and keep me grounded.
I'd love to have a cat, but I swear to god if I have to take care of one more living thing that isn't me, I might burn the entire apartment complex down. I barely have enough time for myself, and the last thing I need is the burden of taking care of something else again.
I put my hands on my hips and stand in the middle of my open-concept home. It's small and full of meaningless shit, but at least it's all mine. A shaky breath leaves my lips and my vision blurs with tears. My head falls to my chest, and with it, the floodgates open.
I drop to my knees and my palms smack to the floor. I suck in a sharp breath through my mouth with a strangled sob, releasing the 23 years of anger and hurt I've carried with me.
I promised myself that when I left my parent's house, I wouldn't be like them. I wouldn't let myself get distracted, or indulge in the shit that destroyed our family. I am so disappointed in myself.
I don't know what's worse, the fact that I allowed myself to get blackout drunk in a club complete with a sexy show, or the way that I absolutely loved every second of it.
I am just like them. I am no better than them. I am destined to be like them.
I slowly pull myself up from my knees and trudge to my bedroom, avoiding anything reflective so I don't have to acknowledge the monster I feel like. I should be calling Grace right now to make sure she got home safe, but I can't even be bothered to worry about her because I'm already too caught up in my selfishness.
I peel off my clothes and throw them in the corner of my small bedroom. My arms cross over my chest since I'm feeling especially vulnerable right now. I stand completely exposed, both mentally and physically. Tears are still dripping down my cheeks, the salty liquid dribbling to my lips.
I need to shower, hopefully the water will melt away all of my sins and I can start fresh. Walking back out of my bedroom and the few steps to the bathroom, I reach into the small walk-in shower and turn the handle all the way up until the room is steaming.
I don't want to hurt myself, but I don't know how else to handle this. I don't know how to make myself change, make sure I never step foot into that place again.
I take a few quick breaths and shove myself into the boiling water, a pained sob leaving my lips as it burns into my skin. I redden in the blink of an eye and hold myself under the stream until it hurts too badly. I back away, huffing out through my trembling lips, until my back hits the corner of the tiled shower.
I shiver from the sudden temperature drop now that my skin is being cooled off by the wall. How could I be so stupid? Nothing is enough to make me stop, I need to just fucking do it. I need to remember what my parents put me through and suck it up before I ruin my life.
I turn the handle to cold, not feeling that warmth is enough of a punishment. I shake in the icy water, washing my body and hair quickly before I decide it's not worth it. My head is throbbing and I can barely breathe from the mucus in my nose.
I shut the water off and step out to the mat. I stand there for a moment, defeated and sad. I can't bear to look at myself right now. I open the cabinet door and wrap the thin towel around my body. I'll worry about skincare when I feel like a person and not a shell of one.
I sniffle as I enter my bedroom. I pull a hoodie over my head, the back of it becoming wet from my lack of drying my hair even slightly. I put on a pair of comfortable underwear and head for my bed to let the blankets smother me, if they would be so kind to.
My phone is in the clutch on my living room floor, but I don't deserve a distraction right now. I need to feel all of this so that I don't fuck up again. If I'm not completely ruined by the time my breakdown is over, I'm going to have to rid my soul of the memories of last night.
I could live in that feeling forever. The warmth radiating down my throat and through my chest, a body to hold on to and kiss. Mindless activities for mindless people. I want to be one of them. It's alluring, like a potent drug dangling in front of my face. I'm starting to think the mermaid is really a siren because I fell for her trap.
I shuffle under my blankets and pull them over my head. My hood is pulled all the way up so I'm sitting in darkness. It's quiet in this room other than my muffled crying. I grab a pillow and drag it under the abyss with me, clinging on to it like it's the warm body I desperately crave in times like these.
I can't help but think of how different my life could be right now if life wasn't cruel to the wrong people. I had the perfect life. I had everything a kid could dream of, down to the grassy yard and dad to play catch with.
I'm tired. I am so tired. Nothing I do feels good enough. I've spent so long trying to force myself to do better, to have a purpose, but nothing I've accomplished has felt as good as my mistakes last night.
My childhood crumbled away so fast, and now I'm sitting here, alone in the world, trying to pull myself out of a mess that was never mine to begin with. One thing hurts more than anything, though.
I miss my parents.
***
the next chapter is owie in the heart and this is a pre tw (the only one you'll get!!!!)