Ember Kate

Chapter:: Eight

The bass is booming and all I can think is where’s my six pack? The thoughts that follow are a string of random thoughts about the place I’m in. I’m in my house, walking around. At the moment I’m in my mom’s room playing dress up with the clothes she has but never wears. I have on a black dress that shows my curves, which I thought were nonexistent. I finish off my seventh or so beer while trying to slide my foot into her high heels.

I give up on trying to fit the obviously too small shoes on my feet, landing on my butt. I start giggling, hearing the part of the song where it speeds up. Hopping back up, I start doing some moves I wouldn’t attempt sober. I run out of my mother’s closet, dancing my way to the fridge to get another beer. Stopping before I get there, I start doing some weird thing where I try shaking my hips and doing hip thrusts. The end result is almost nauseating and I’m glad my parents aren’t here. Then again, if they were, they wouldn’t say anything to the countless beer bottles in my room and the ones I always bring home with me.

They never ask how I get them, since I’m only eighteen. They never ask me to stop drinking, or tell me to. They are just too tired, and I like the drinks too much. It’s been a month since school got out, and I don’t feel any different. I never ran into anyone I went to school with on my beer run. The secret was, all I had to do was wear this special shirt and I could pretty much rob the place.

The guy there was a creep, a harmless creep. I was never scared to go up there, because what did I have to lose? My parents wouldn’t yell at me or ground me. The thought makes me laugh hysterically while I shake my hips like I have a hoola hoop. Anyways, as I’m shaking everything and trying to sing and shake my head to the bass, I bend over and look in the fridge. It’s empty, completely. No beer, as I was looking for.

“Fucking shit.” I curse; mumbling as I check to make sure everything is where it’s supposed to be. I look down, noticing that the heels are there anyways. No wonder I’ve been wobbling! I slap the counter as I pass it, wondering what time it is.

I open the door when I finally make it there, the bass is still shaking every wall downstairs and you could probably feel it on the floor upstairs. I’d have to try that theory out when I get back. I’m shocked that nobody called the cops. I turn behind me a little and almost fall through into the house trying to close the actual door. I close the screen door in front of it and stumble a little bit. I look around me and notice that the sun is setting, meaning it’s later than I thought it was. I step forward, and notice too late that there is nothing under my foot. My right foot is following, and suddenly my hands go flailing around somewhere and I don’t know where I end up. I’m on my stomach, and I start crying. I don’t try to move anything, it all hurts. There’s like a rocking in my body that’s painful and resembles something like bass.

I hear screen doors slam shut and shouts, my neighbors hopefully. “Ember? Are you okay? Can you get up?”

“No,” I moan into the ground. I recognize the voice of a guy a few years older than me, who attends college. When I was younger, in junior high or something, I used to crush on him. He would always play football in the back with his friends; all shirtless.

“I’m going to try to roll you over, my sister is calling an ambulance right now.” He tries to soothe me. He doesn’t know I’m too drunk to care, so I just laugh at him. I forgot that he had a sister; she used to come over and babysit me when I was younger. He tries to roll me over and I shout out, probably scaring him.

“Don’t, please. It hurts.” My left or right wrist hurts; I can’t tell which side is which. There’s a pounding in my head that seems to be in time with my pulse. One of my ankles hurts; I can feel him checking them. I hear an ambulance and see the lights reflecting on the houses in the distance. My eyes are starting to close; I’m starting to get really tired. I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol’s doing or the fact that my head keeps pounding. I hear voices and I stopped trying to follow along, and so I black out or something while I still feel John, the cute neighbor guy’s hand holding mine.