My eyes flutter open to the sound of voices. An annoying beeping sound makes my head throb. The ceiling above me is plain white with a single bright light. I squint, but then allow my eyes to open completely when they have adjusted.
I attempt to sit up, but a sharp pain in my abdomen forces me back down into a lying position with a groan.
“Miss, how do you feel?”
I turn my head. There, in front of me, is a tall man wearing a suit with a white coat over it all. He’s holding a clipboard in one hand and a ball-point pen in the other. There’s a name tag pinned onto the white coat that reads, “Dr. Oaks.”
“I, uh, my side really hurts,” I croak. Suddenly, memories flood through my mind. I see Ginny up on the ledge, I see her falling, I see myself falling, I see Ginny lying in a pool of blood, and I see myself lying next to her. I gasp, “Ginny! The baby! Oh my go-”
“Please, calm down, miss,” Dr. Oaks prompts me with caring eyes.
My breathing intensifies. “Please. Please, tell me what happened to them! They’re all I have left!”
He sighs sadly, biting his lip. “Miss,” he starts, his voice low and cautious. “The woman that also fell… she died on impact.”
No. No. No. No. No. Tears well up in my eyes as my breath hitches in my throat. “Oh, Ginny…” I cover my mouth with a shaky hand.
“And your baby didn’t make it either. I’m so sorry, but you landed right on her.”
I scream.
I wake up screaming and thrashing in my bed. My breathing is ragged, oxygen unable to enter my lungs easily. I wheeze in and out, sweat dripping from my face and my arms. I throw the covers off of my legs and run into the bathroom, where I throw up all of my stomach’s contents into the toilet.
Still shaking, I flush the toilet and stand in front of the mirror. My reflection looks like the ghost of myself. My eyes are sunken in and my cheeks are hollowed out. I look… dead.
Tears threaten to spring up on me again. I bite my lip hard and squeeze my eyes shut.
Numb the pain.
-
I slam the glass onto the bar. “More.”
The bartender appears in front of me, and I’m sure he’d look handsome if it weren’t for my swirling vision. He sighs deeply before filling my glass halfway. I shoot him a glare. “Fine,” he mutters, pouring it to the top. I hand him more money for the drink before chugging it down.
I slip off the barstool, stumbling over onto the dance floor. I don’t dance, and no one really notices me. I just stand in the middle of all the sweaty bodies and stale air. The different colored lights are like fireworks, always moving in sync with whatever song was playing.
A slight buzz started echoing through my skull. It was a good buzz. It meant that the memories are gone.
Two years ago, after my world was sucked from me, I fell into a bad drinking habit. I was considered a lost cause and an alcoholic. I was never sober enough to go to the store, so I almost starved to death at least twice. I would fill my stomach with drinks to take the place of my baby. Abigail. She would’ve been a beauty. I went to crowded bars so I was never alone, the drunks and locals taking the place of Ginny.
But I still have a gaping hole in my heart where they used to be.
I don’t know how long I stand there, but after a while, I notice that the place starts to get even more crowded. Or maybe it’s just my clouded mind playing tricks on me.
I take a step forward, but bump into someone. I don’t stop to apologize and take another step, but a warm hand around my arm stops me from doing so.
At first panic rises in me.
But then I hear that voice.
“Oh my gosh, Harper?”
I turn and look at Hunter. He clearly hasn’t had anything to drink. His hair is perfectly styled back like it always is, and he’s wearing a red flannel with blue jeans.
I drunkenly smile. “Heeey, Hunter. What are you… doing here?”
Hunter frowns. “Harper, how many drinks have you had?”
“Ummmm… ” I hold up both of my hands and giggle, “This many.”
Hunter curses under his breath, just like he did when I was dying in the passenger seat of his car. I gasp, my eyes widening. “Remember that time when I was bitten by a snake?! That was craaaazy!”
Hunter takes both of my arms gently. “Okay, I’m taking you home.”
“No!” I protest, struggling to get out of his grip. “I don’t want to go.”
His grip tightens as he pulls me through the crowd, weaving in out between people. I still struggle against him, but he’s too strong.
Hunter suddenly stops and a shrill voice fills the air.
“Hunt? What’re you doing with her?”
Willow. Hunter… is seeing Willow? A pang of jealousy rips through my chest, but I deny it. Hunter’s my best friend.
Hunter sighs. “Willow, I’m awfully sorry, but I need to take Harper home.”
Willow scoffs, biting on one of her perfectly manicured fake nails. Even her makeup and hair are perfect. “Really, Hunt?” There’s a pause as Hunter nods. “Ugh. Fine. I can’t believe you’d rather waste your time with her when I’m right here, dressed to impress. But whatever, you do whatever you want. See you never, Hunter Hayes.”
She briskly walks past us, a whiff of her tropical perfume getting trapped in my nostrils. I cringe. I never liked tropical smells. I prefer things like baked goods or pine.
Hunter looks at me with worry swirled in his beautiful blue eyes. Or maybe the alcohol is making it seem swirled.
He leads me to his unmistakable black car with the red stripe, and this time, I don’t protest. I just want to go home and sleep.
Hunter helps me into the passenger side of the car, buckling me in before my head lolls to my shoulder and I fall into a deep void of slumber.
-
I would text Ginny to remind me to never drink again, but I just woke up with the worst migraine imaginable. It’s so bad that I think I might pass out from looking at a phone screen. My head is throbbing so painfully and my body feels like someone just threw it out of an airplane. Why did I ever think that alcohol was the solution?
Probably because the problem wouldn’t fade without it.
Groaning, I sit up, but lie back down with a hammering pain in my temples. I let out a frustrated huff of air.
I suddenly come to my senses, sitting up slowly and looking around. I don’t know where I expected to be, but now I’m in my room in bed. I rack my brain for any recollection of what happened last night.
Okay, so, I went to that newish bar, got drunk, stood around like a weirdo for who knows how long, then got dragged into Hunter’s car.
Hunter.
He saw me as a drunken mess last night and I most likely threw up in his luxury car. I cringe at my actions and mentally face-palm.
I turn and see a glass of water, a bottle of Advil, a bouquet of flowers, and a note on my nightstand next to the head of my bed. I pick up the note first, reading it slowly out loud while squinting my burning eyes.
“Harper, I hope you feel better. If you don’t mind, shoot me a text or call me and I can come over if you want. I want to talk to you. I hope your hangover isn’t too rough. Hunter.”
I set the note down and reach for the advil and water, quickly swallowing a tablet and the entire glass. The room-temperature liquid soothes the soreness at the back of my throat. I then reach out and pick up the flowers. They’re yellow daffodils mixed with pink carnations. My favorite. How’d Hunter guess?
I breathe in the sweet scent of the flowers and sigh, but my stomach suddenly churns and I race to the bathroom, puking up my guts into the toilet. The wretched smell burns inside my nostrils, but I can’t stop the gagging and throwing up. Even when there’s nothing left in my stomach except for stomach acid, I throw up.
After what feel like an eternity, the sickness subsides. I wipe my mouth off with my sleeve, sitting back on my heels. I close my eyes for a moment. The Advil is starting to kick in and my headache clears a bit.
With unstable legs, I stumble back to my bed and pull out my phone. The bright light temporarily blinds me for a few seconds. Blinking furiously, I unlock my phone and pull up my texting app. First, I text Ginny.
Me: Remind me to never consume so much alcohol in one night ever again.
After that, I start to feel better. I miss texting her when I know I’ll actually get a response.
I shake myself out of my thoughts and text Hunter.
Me: Hey. You can come over now. Thanks for everything.
I bite my lip, waiting for him to reply. It takes a minute or two for him to respond.
Hunter: No problem, I’m on my way.
I lean against the wall, running a hand over my face. I wonder what Hunter wants to talk to me about.
Whatever it is, I hope it has nothing to do with Ginny or Abagail.