Trepidation [Book 1]

Chapter 03: fresh memories

"Come on, Fran. It'll be great, I promise you," Abby says with a cheeky smile, and that alone isn't trusting.

"I don't know," I mumble, looking down at the pill in the palm of her hand.

"You don't have to then, I'll just take them both," she says casually, and before she can make that reckless decision, I snatch one up and swallow it.

"What you do; I do, idiot."

That was the first time I took ecstasy. A night full of cheap thrills. Pleasurable, exciting, cheap thrills. Ecstasy isn't all fun and games. It's amazing for the first few hours, but then you come down from that high. You come back to reality and sometimes reality isn't pretty. You're overwhelmed with the feelings you were feeling before, the feelings you pushed away with the drug. But only now, it's heightened terribly.

Now, I awaken in a bed of my own sweat, haunted memories sinking over me. My body fills with anxiety, my hands shaking and my heart racing. Memories race around my mind that I forcibly block out every second of the day. I close my eyes, trying to push the memories back, thinking of anything but what I am remembered by every night.

20, 19, 18, 17... 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Taking deep, somewhat steady breaths as I count, trying to take control back of my breathing, I realize I can't stay in here. The walls are suffocating me, I need air, I need to run until I can't feel my legs anymore. My head is pounding from the hangover that's currently brewing, but I can't stay captured in these walls much longer. My thoughts are consuming me and I can't think straight. I check the time on my phone; it's five AM, I've only slept two hours.

My head feels like its caving in, I'm nauseated; I'm so fucking tired of this. I ask myself why a hundred times a day. What comes after is always different. But this morning I'm asking myself, why the fuck did I go out last night and choose ecstasy of all drugs?

My memories of last night are hazy. I remember dancing like I owned the world, like nothing mattered. It was just me and my happiness.

It was fake happiness, always will be.

Standing from my bed with shaky legs, I see to my right, Matt is snuggled up with that guy from the party. I hope they had a better night than I did.

Grabbing out a pair of black cycling shorts to stop my thighs from rubbing together and a hoodie that's Matt's, I quickly dress before rushing out of the room as I throw my hair up in a bun.

The dorm's eerily quiet, almost deafening as I put my shoes on. Once they're on, I shove my earbuds in, and leave, locking the door behind me, letting the sweet sound of Led Zeppelin fill my ears.

Running isn't a passion or a hobby of mine, it's simply a coping mechanism, one I've had for years. It helps clear my head. Only the last time I ran my problems were much simpler.

∞

My breathing is erratic, my lungs are burning as I push myself further and further, ignoring the salty tears that are falling from my eyes and landing on my chapped lips. I close my eyes, only making the matter worse.

Sirens. Blue lights. The feeling of blood trickling down my legs. The smell of male cologne on my skin. A night full of mistakes.

No music can help these memories disappear. They're too fresh. They're fresh wounds that haven't even begun the healing process.

I haven't felt this bad since... It happened. Why did I have to do this to myself? I'm the only one to blame for what happened that night, no one else. I was so fucking reckless.