Lost In Paradise

|Chapter I • Flashbacks|

Amelia

My eyes slowly flickered open as a low grunt left my lips, an irritating buzzing taking over my ears. With the tiniest effort, I looked down at my body to find out I was lying on a bed, covered by thin blue sheets. I attempted to sit up, but couldn't sustain my upper body, I didn't have enough strength whatsoever.

Parts of the dream flashed through my mind as I slightly scratched my scalp. No, it wasn't just a dream, it was a memory. Why did I dream about the day I left the mental institution? From all the good new memories I had acquired in the past year, why did I dream about that dreadful day?

"You awake, huh." I turned to my left to find the source of that voice and my eyes met Gusion's bare toned back. He threw a dark green shirt over his shoulder while making his way towards the bed, siting on its end.

I tried to sit up once again, this time succeeding, "The fuck you doing here, Collins?"

"Sweet as always, aye? Just came to borrow a clean shirt since little Dan threw vodka and cake on mine." He said putting on the shirt and sticking a spliff in between his lips, my eyes automatically rolled at the thought of those two kids playing and throwing cake around the house. Gusion grabbed a silver lighter from his front pocket and lit his spliff up, took a draw and handed it to me. I rubbed my forehead while taking one as well, the pounding was vanishing, but I still felt a bit dizzy. I took another long draw and held the smoke in for a few seconds while handing it back to him.

"Is it hurting?" He pointed to my head with his chin while coughing a bit, "You must have hit it hard when you fell."
I was certain that confusion was all over my face. When and from where did I fall?

He let out a low sigh as the spliff made its way back to his lips, "We found you passed out in the bathroom, Dan and I." He paused as a small cloud of smoke escaped through the corner of his lips, "You should drink carefully next time."

I backed up against the bed frame while folding my arms, "You should mind your own business next time."

He stood up rolling his eyes, as he just heard a remark from a kid, "That's what I get for trying to be fuckin' nice, huh? Screw this." He walked towards the door and stopped for a second before facing me again, a sarcastic smile on his lips, "And tell that boyfriend of yours to stop trying to play big guy with me or I'll punch his baby face."

"He's not-" He slammed the door behind him before I could finish my sentence. I rested my head on the bed frame as I looked up at the ceiling waiting for his words to sink in. No, not the ones about my boyfriend -Which for the record, I don't have-, the ones about me on the bathroom floor.

Soon everything started to come back to mind. From the time I woke up and went shopping with my dado, to the time I stopped partying with my friends claiming I was gonna freshen up. I didn't remember drinking that much or getting so wasted to the point I'd pass out. I didn't remember because that didn't happen, I was on what we call K-hole.

I didn't go to the bathroom to freshen up, that was a pathetic excuse because I needed one more dose of the drug that would supposedly help me to get through the rest of the night without being a burden to everyone around.

Ha, ironic, innit.

Dreaming about that day didn't feel so weird anymore considering I was on drugs for an entire day. I knew what would happen if my loved ones found out about my recent little incidents, and even not being conscious, guilt was rising inside me.

I grabbed a dark denim jacket that was by my side as I sat up, slipping on my Chuck Taylors. The party was still going on, so staying in that room wasn't an option, I had to go back so my friends could see I was all good... Sort of.