How To Be A Bitch (On Hold)

➸ seventeen: hung-over caroline

➸ seventeen: hung-over caroline

PLEASE READ A/N: hello beautiful people. i'm sorry for putting this story on hold so many times. some of you may have already lost interest in it. but it was because of my board exams and now that it's over, i promise i'll update this book as much as i can and it will be over by the end of may. maybe sooner if you guys support me like you have always done! thank you and enjoy reading :)

« she needed a hero, so that's what she became. »

When I woke up the next day, my entire body felt different. I'm not telling that my soul got exchanged with Daniel's and now he was in my body and I was in his. That would be too funny and cliché for my liking. What I meant by different is that it fucking hurt like hell. From my head to the toe it felt as if someone had sliced my skin with a sharp knife to punish me for my past doings. 

 What hurt the most - excuse the song pun - was my head. My bloody head. It hurt to even move any of my facial muscles and I tried my best to keep my eyes closed in the fear that if I opened them, my head would burst open. 

 "FIRE!" Someone yelled in my ear making me flinch visibly. The screaming immediately affected my brain which seemed to be dying with every passing second. Whoever that 'someone' was, he wouldn't be alive for long. I would make sure to descend all my wrath upon him for doing this to me.

 It wasn't rocket science. That 'someone' obviously was Daniel Baker, the bane of my existence. I wasn't sure if I was just feeling this way, but I think I did something to my butt last night. Because my ass felt like, god, how do I even explain what it felt like in words?

 Giving up on trying to put my feelings into words, I slowly opened my eyes and took in my surroundings. I was currently lying on Daniel's bed with the softest blanket I had ever touched, pulled on top of my body that hurt like a bitch. Daniel himself was sitting on a stool beside the bed with an amused expression on his face. I was glad that I could at least amuse someone without even moving a muscle.

 I slowly got up from the position I was currently lying in and rested my head on the head board, all the while groaning out loud. I wanted to make sure that everyone knew how much I was actually hurting right now and by ‘everyone’ I meant Daniel fucking Baker.

 “What time is it?” I said holding my head in my hands because it felt like the room was spinning like a fucking spinning top. My voice sounded hoarse and really different even to my own ears. It was like I had spent an entire day underwater in my bikini and resurfaced with the mother of all colds. Hypothetically speaking, of course since that wouldn’t happen in real life. I’d probably die of hypothermia. “And what the hell happened to my voice?”

 “It’s two thirty,” Daniel stated.

 “Two thirty in the noon?” I asked stupidly, even though I could see rays of sunshine streaming through the curtains, clearly.

 Daniel smiled at me and replied sarcastically, “No.”

 “Why does my head hurt so much?” I groaned again. “And why aren’t you telling me what happened to my fucking voice?”

 “Dear, Caroline,” he started. “The reason why your head hurts so much is because of what we normally call – a hangover. And your voice sounds like a rabbit’s voice right now because of maybe a bit too much alcohol consumption.”

 Ignoring the part about the rabbit’s voice – since I couldn’t fathom in which parallel universe, Daniel thought that rabbits had voices – I asked him, “What did you do to me, you son of a bitch?”