Intent [Wattys 2017]

Chapter 94

Emma

Hangovers are a bitch in general but this morning... Well lets just say I have never felt so terrible in my entire life.

I'm surrounded by warmth, a soft pillow under my head and thick fluffy blankets encompassing my entire body. It feels like I'm laying on a cloud.

And still I have never been so uncomfortable and I have no reason to feel this way. I have more fluffy blankets then I can count and it's not even that bright in the room. By some wonderful trick of fate the curtains are drawn.

I don't even deserve that little act of kindness.

Wait how did I get here?

Last thing I can remember was laying my head down on a hard wooden surface and the bartender had yet to say a single word to me.

Fuck, what happened last night?

I twist in the sheets to try and find a more comfortable position but nothing helps. Then one thing becomes painfully clear.

Harry isn't with me.

Not that he should. I left him for hours last night, the last thing he should be doing is cuddling up next to me in bed.

"...don't be surprised if I'm not here when you sober up..." Harry's words fill me up like bile spiraling up my throat, threatening to explode.

I sit straight up in my bed, suddenly wide awake and painfully aware of my pounding head. I peel my eyes open but the room starts to spin and I slump back in my bed unable to do much else.

Am I remembering him saying that or was it a bad dream?

Who am I kidding? If it was a bad dream I would have woken myself up somehow. I always do. That's how it always worked out in the past.

It was definitely a memory but what the hell happened before and after that moment?

Think... fucking think!

Doesn't work. Willing oneself to actually remember when you've drunk yourself blind never works.

One's things for certain. I definitely acted like a major twat because Harry made good on his promise, he's not here and I have a sinking feeling that I completely deserve it.

But what did I do?

No matter how hard I try most of last night is just a fuzzy black matte in the back of my mind and it's horrible.

I know I hurt Harry but... I don't even have a but, I hurt him. End of.

"Emmy!!!!" Lucas screams bounding into my room and onto my bed. "Come play with me, please."

"Lucas, buddy, I'm tired. Go play with your sister." I groan cuddling back to bed but he just sneaks under the covers and joins me.

"You're my sister, Emmy." He points out matter a factly.

It's funny but he reminds me of Harry when we were growing up. When I first met Harry in preschool he was always so blunt, especially for a four year old. Lucas here is the same way. Always stating the obvious on a level so far beyond what's expected of him.

The similarity brings a smile to my face.

I brush my fingers through his hair and smile. "You're too smart."

If only I was more like my carefree little brother. His life is so simple and fun. Maybe if I was more like Lucas I wouldn't have ended up at some random bar drinking myself into yet another drunk induced stupor.