[ON HOLD] Hide (Disasters In Love: Book 2)

Chapter 2

Vanessa
19 years old
October 31, 2004

Fuck today.

Lifting the glass to my mouth, I down the shot.  I wasn't sure what to expect from an alcohol that tastes like cake, but it's not terrible.  I probably should have tried it before I ordered a table full.

Fuck it.

I lick my lips before downing another one.  My eyes scan the room full of fake cops, slutty kittens and whatever else is barely hiding the skank within. 

Fuck Halloween.

Another shot down.  Only 16 more to go.  I can make it.  Just one for every miserable year I've been alive.

Fuck my birthday.

It's getting easier to swallow the sweet liquid.  I really wish I wasn't here alone, but my poor innocent roommate thinks I'm home with my family.  If only she knew the truth...

Fuck my family.

Downing another shot, the familiar burn in my throat centering me.  I can feel my body relaxing as the alcohol takes away the memories.

I drink to forget. 

I drink to forget his face, his smile, his fucking hands on me.

I drink to forget that I trusted him.

I drink to forget that I will never be whole.

I will never be normal.
I will never be happy.
I will never feel safe.

I drink to forget who I really am.

I drink to hide. 
From everyone.
Even myself.

I can drink away the pain.  I can hide  from the memories.  Looking down, I see only 10 shot glasses still contain alcohol.

Shit.

I shouldn't have drank that many, that fast.  I need a break.

From drinking. 
From life.
From everything.

I can dance until I forget who I am. 

I head out to the floor, letting the beat take over. 

Out here, I don't have to think. 
Out here, it's only me and the music. 
Out here, I could be anyone.

I could be whole. 
I could be happy. 
I could be normal.

I throw myself into the song, but I just can't shake the chill that's taken hold of me.  No matter how much sweat is pouring off of me, I feel frozen inside. 

Giving up, I make my way back to the table.  There's an unopened bottle of water sitting in my seat.

Fucking bartender.

He thinks I can't handle my liquor.  I want to prove a point, but I'm actually dying of thirst.

Cracking open the bottle, I drink about half, regretting it the instant the water settles in my stomach.  Before I can yell at myself, there's a tall guy hoovering next to me.

Holy shit.  He's hot.  His muscles are showing through his tight shirt and curly hair that makes you want to run your fingers through it.

God, I wish he made me feel something.  I still feel dead inside. 

Damn. 

He smiles at me, showing his dimples.  "Hey, you see that fucker back there?"

I look past him to see a hunk of a man sitting at a table, looking murderous. "You mean the one staring daggers into your back?"