II.

i went into the almost-bare living room of my pathetic little apartment and sat on the old couch. that couch had been with me through everything--when i told my parents i was, in fact, gay (much to their despair), when i came out to my brother, (he knew already. i was the biggest butch in town.)..so many memories. you could almost see it in the camouflage pattern. ugh, it was so old.

i figured i had just enough time to vent some thoughts--i grabbed the yellow notepad on the little table and a random pen i found between the cushions.

♪ "'what do i do to ignore them behind me? do i follow my instincts blindly? do i hide my pride from these bad dreams and give in to sad thoughts that are maddening? do i sit here and try to stand it? or do i try to catch them red-handed? do i trust some and get fooled my phoniness, or do i trust nobody and live in loneliness? because i can't hold on when i'm stretched so thin--i make the right moves but i'm lost within--i put on my daily facade but then--i just end up getting hurt again by myself..."'

at that moment there was a knock at the door. --*--

>>I opened it to find tommy standing there, all dressed up in jeans and a pink button down shirt.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” he said as he pushed past me into the apartment. One thing you have to love about tommy—he’s confident. And has no sense of boundaries.

“What are you all dressed up for?” I asked, my eyebrow raised. He sat on the couch and looked around, finally looking at me.

“Damn, girl, you look like shit!” He shot up from the couch, looking me over, putting a hand on his hip in that gay-old way.

“Gee, thanks..so why are you dressed up?”

He looked at me like I was stupid. “Because we’re going to the club, hellooo?? Did you not check your voicemail?”

I looked at my phone, again. There was a text from Kim:

Hey, I can’t come over..car broke down. Main st.

I texted back, ok, we’ll come and get you..

I told Tommy the news and we got in the car to go pick her up.

“So..you did it again, huh?” he said, barely dodging a blue minivan, going about 65 down Main Street.

“Yeah..” There was no playing innocent; when Tommy knew, he knew. “This girl named Hannah dropped me off last night…and stayed over.”

He turned to look at me, running a red light. I freaked and swerved the wheel over so we didn’t hit the nice silver Mustang. “Dude, watch where you’re going!”

“You little whore!” he said, winking at me and smirking. “That’s my girl. How was she?”

I scowled. “All I remember of last night was some open-mouthed kissing and dry-humping..so not too well I suppose..” I had a flashback of us naked on the bed, grabbing each other desperately. I shook the image out of my head.

He laughed. “Ah, I’ve raised you so well.” He reached out and held my hand just as we pulled up next to Kim’s broken-down Civic. She got her infamous backpack that had about a thousand severely-opinionated buttons on it and hopped in the backseat.

“Ello guvna!” she said in her amazing (but fake) British accent. I turned around in the seat to give her a quick kiss before we took off. “So where are we headed?” she asked in her normal voice.

“The club!” Tommy said excitedly. I blushed, turning to look at her to see what she thinks. She shrugged her shoulders and looked out the window.

“Honey, if you don’t want to go, we can go somewhere else,” I said sweetly.

She looked back at me with puppy dog eyes. “I just don’t feel like going out tonight. Do you wanna go to the strip joint?”

I smiled. I love this girl. “Anything for you, my dear.”

I.

♪ "'wake in a sweat again / another day's been laid to waste / in my disgrace / stuck in my head again / feels like I'll never leave this place / there's no escape / I'm my own worst enemy...'"

My eyes shot open. I felt my head start to pound. I looked around, wondering where I was that morning. I’d spent the night in the bathroom -again-. I got up on my elbows and looked around..puke on the sink, on the toilet, on my pants...i’d done it again.

I reached for my phone to see what time it was, only to find that I’d had 18 missed calls..16, of course, from Tommy, and 2 from Kim..i hoped she hadn't seen me like this. i turned the alarm off on my ipod and, figuring Tommy would call me back eventually, called Kim back.

as soon as she picked up, she started in.

"GOD DAMMIT LINDSEY!!" she screamed in my ear. my head pounded from the severe hang-over I had going on. "i tried calling you, what happened to you???"

Good .So she doesn't know. "i just fell asleep, take a chill pill. sheesh." i put the phone between my shoulder and my ear and tried to get up. i slipped on my puke and fell back down. then i felt the pain in my ankle...i looked down. It was bruised up and hurt like a mutha. i tried to remember what happened..i knew i went to the party--but not just any old party, -the- party. i remembered people handing me shots over and over again, just thrusting them in my hands like I'm some kind of garbage disposal for vodka..i remembered the dancing..all the people i grinded, who grinded against me...remembered making it back home..but how?..

Kim was still on the line--"hello?? linds? I'm coming over, I'll be there in five minutes, ok?"

shit. i mumbled something in response then started the shower and ripped off my puke-stained clothes. i jumped in, then immediately turned the water on freezing cold. i needed to wake up, to feel icy. i remembered it then..Tommy didn't drop me off..it was..what was her name?

then i heard the banging on the door. "hey!!! uhh...i don't know your name..lexis i think? anyway, i had fun last night, I'll call u ok?" then the voice disappeared and i heard the front door slam.

now i remembered---Hannah. she dropped me off--and stayed over? shit. of course...alcohol does do that to me..

i stepped out of the shower and tried to find some clean clothes. there were none, of course. i haven't done any laundry in about a month--i just keep buying new clothes. i found ones that don't smell like alcohol, cigarettes, or puke and put them on. i cleaned myself up and waited for Kim to get there.

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