Ryder

twenty three

I woke up with a heavy sense of impending doom.

Or mostly just a hangover, but an impending doom nonetheless. Because for the first few minutes, all I could do was stare up at the ceiling as I gradually woke up.

Because something was so so wrong.

There was a knock on the dark mahogany door and there was a scared, startled noise--a noise that came from my mouth right as someone shouted from the other end of the closed door, "Room service!"

Room service. I was in a motel room. It took me way too long, way too many minutes, plus the room service lady to finally give up and walk to the next room, for me to realize I was in a cheap motel room. One that I remembered nothing about.

Last night. I tried thinking about last night but couldn't come up with much of anything. I remembered talking with Professor McAdams at some point. I remembered receiving a call from Mom which, like always, hadn't gone well. I remembered the anger and frustration after that phone call.

A small wince left my lips at the dull throbbing in my head just as a loud thud came from the room beside mine.

And then I remembered Nico. Nico and I had gone out, hadn't we? We'd gotten drunk, seriously drunk judging from the pounding in my skull and the hotel bed I'd been sprawled on seconds ago. I pushed aside the sheets and stumbled out of bed, strangely relieved that I had all of my clothes on from last night. There was this niggling feeling in my chest, a warning of some kind, but I couldn't understand it. Not right then at least.

It would've been more alarming and scary and maybe even a little terrifying that I couldn't remember even a single thing--that everything from the point I chugged down my first vodka shot was a black blur--if I wasn't so busy fighting down the sudden wave of nausea.

My stomach lurched. I gagged and ran towards the bathroom. I couldn't even make myself glance around the dirty bathroom as I fell on my knees, gagging once again before I threw up everything that my stomach contained right then. My knees dug into the hard floor as I leaned over the toilet, breathing heavily. Moving back a little, I closed my eyes briefly and grimaced at the taste.

Nico must've brought me here, I thought. But then where was he? And why would Nico bring me here and not the dorms?

There was a soft buzz from outside, somewhere in the bedroom, and I managed to stand up on my wobbly knees, heading towards the sink and cupping cool water into my hands. It was a momentary relief from everything as I washed my mouth and my face. The throbbing in my head was so bad, I almost wished I had a bucket full of ice water so that I could dunk my head in it. I hated the dry taste coating my mouth and I hated the dull throb between my eyes and I hated hated hated that I smelled like cheap booze.

"Okay." I breathed out, grabbed the doorframe of the bathroom, and closed my eyes. "Deep breaths. No need to freak out." This had been my idea after all, hadn't it? Just because of that one phone call from my mother. What had she even said? God, I couldn't even remember what she'd said on that phone call. What if it had been something important? Something she'd asked me to do but I couldn't do it now because I didn't even remember it?

And why the fuck couldn't I remember? What had I even drunk last night that had got me so fucked up?

Taking in two deep frantic breaths, I tried once again to calm myself down and headed back towards the bed, the empty side of the bed where my phone lay. The screen lit up with a text.

It's all fine, I reminded myself.

Only that it wasn't really fine at all. I realized that when I grabbed my phone and saw a text from Ryder.