《Chapter 5》

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A/N: This chapter isn't edited for grammatical error so please don't judge me.

"Home is where you hang your hangover" James Crumley

☆☆☆

I can feel serious vibrations of lacerating pain going through my skull and I feel about as tired as all the hours I lost sleep and hadn't slept my entire life. My alarm is blaring and I could seriously smash my phone if I hadn't spent so much on glamming it up and buying it. I open my eyes slightly and the light pierces my eyes.My head is pounding and I'm in my bed but I don't remember coming home last night. I'm wearing a totally different outfit, pajamas to me exact but I don't remember how that is.

I lay down in my bed simply considering quitting alcohol on every level. Yes there are levels to alcohol. Allow me to elaborate.  

Stage one: The softie stage. Only really mild alcohol like a beer or something like that

Stage two: The moderately hard stage. Only semi mild alcohol, you know whine and slutty stuff like that.

Stage three: The murderous housewife stage. The serious alcohol you could use for more things than just to get wasted. Spirits and what not like vodka and whiskey and whatnot.

Stage four: In a committed relationship with the beverage. Literally being the type of person to take everything in every stage aforementioned and still capable of walking. I mean all of it in a day.

See, what I did last night was I pulled a murderous housewife and that's why I don't quite remember much. It makes sense because a housewife planning murder would drink all that strong stuff so she could kill her beloved - deserving maybe - husband. Obviously, life goes on and doesn't wait for the severely hungover to recover from the consequences of not being a prude at a nightclub or bar.

I'm going to regret this probably, the alcohol consumption I mean, when I need my liver to function well in my old age that's if the stress of marriage and annoying offspring don't get me first.

Do I like children? Only when they're not fussy, don't talk or anything. Mostly when they're still in the womb. Would I have a child? Perhaps but I'd probably give it away when it begins to frustrate me. I don't have the patience to deal with a smaller human being when I cant even find my keys.

The shitty part of today is that I do have a life I should be getting back to and so I roll out of bed. I make my way to my bathroom and do the necessary, brush my teeth, wash my face, take a shower and then I get out and dress up in joggers and a sweatshirt. I grab my phone and plug it in to charge then make my way down the stairs to the kitchen. I don't get that far though because I almost trip over a certain somebody. Freya. She is fast asleep on the staircase still in last night's outfit. I don't have the energy and just don't feel like waking her up. She will regret sleeping there though, when her neck and all hurt like hell. Honestly, she had not come to mind until I almost tripped over her. I step away from her and get to the kitchen.

I open the fridge so I could get some juice and cake out of it but the light is just way too much for me so I go back upstairs and get my sunglasses so I can actually look inside the refrigerator. I pull out the pitcher of orange juice and take some chocolate cake out, well the whole cake and cut it in half. I set it  onto the table and I begin to eat.

Here I am. Eva Valencia hungover and wearing sunglasses inside because its too bright; eating half a chocolate cake with a big glass of orange juice to wash it down with. I eat in silence for moments and then I hear a big thud and then a groan. Freya has decided to join the world of the hungover and perhaps that of the injured.

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