Secondhand Smoke [m.h]

Part Sixteen.

- TWO WEEKS LATER -

I grinded against some random guy with curly hair. It wasn't as dark as Matty's, nor was it as long but I didn't care.
He was the only one who could even be relatively close to what Matty looked like.
The room spun as we danced together, the music thumping loudly through the club.

- ONE WEEK PRIOR -

I sat on the floor, mascara staining my cheeks.
Everything was numb.
I played "Robbers" on full volume on my TV.
I could care less about a noise complaint.
I didn't want to feel the pain, so I tried to drown it out with his voice like I still could hear it.
Everything was going great until I began to actually process that I would never see him, maybe not even speak to him ever again.
I dig my fingernails into the carpet and look up at the ceiling, asking why this happened to me.
Do you think my clean life would have gotten me into this mess? No.
Yet, I wouldn't have experienced what I did so I can't necessarily regret it.. ugh.
My heart aches and everything hurts.. I hate this.
My eyes flicker over to the fridge where Rebecca had kept a bottle of vodka, knowing that I wouldn't drink it.
People do it for a reason.. I've heard all the stories.
I get up and walk to the fridge, opening the door and pulling out the bottle.
I walk back and sit in my spot in front of the TV and stare at the bottle.
I move it around in my hands and feel it's weight.
This has to do something.
I slowly unscrew the lid as "You" fades on the TV.
My nose hovers over the opening and it smells, kind of sweet but also like a weird hand sanitizer.
I press my lips against the opening of the bottle and contemplate for a moment if I really want to do this.
I'm safe at home, I don't have to drive.. I just— I just want to try it.
I want to forget everything.. maybe this can help.
I can't believe I'm doing this.
I take a deep breathe before tipping the bottle up, the cold liquid rushing down my throat.
I immediately spit it everywhere as I feel the burning sensation take over my throat.
Everything in me just keeps on pleading with myself to drink more.
I do, I take another drink.
It stings a little less.
I take another.
Soon enough a quarter of the bottle is gone and everything is hazy.
I slowly move over to the table to set the bottle down and I feel everything begin to spin.
However, my insides feel weightless. My brain feels light and it's like my heart doesn't exist, although I can feel it.
The 1975 plays on the TV and I dance around, not caring about a thing.
I feel sick every so often but I push through it.
As time passes, everything only gets cloudier and things get darker.
I lose my balance and fall to the floor before everything goes black.

- FLASH FORWARD ONE WEEK -

Fake Matty's hands trailed down my waist as I moved my body against his crotch.
I didn't care about anything anymore, nothing mattered like he did.
This way of life that he lived was wild and it made you forget about everything.
"We should take this back to my place, I live just around the corner.." Fake Matty says in my ear.
I try to imagine his voice with an accent.
I simply nod and give a drunken wave to Rebecca before stumbling out of the crowd, Fake Matty's hand hooked around my waist.
I giggle over nothing as we leave, swaying down the sidewalk.
Once we get to his apartment, he unlocks the door and proceeds to grab my waist and pull me inside.
I laugh it off even though I can feel that he's not as cautious or loving as the real Matty.
We stumble to his bed and we take off our clothes, tossing them aside.
He grabs a condom from his bedside drawer and slides it on.
My drunken state ignores the fact that he wants to skip all foreplay.
He was smaller than Matty, which size never did matter to me but I couldn't help but notice how much more it hurt this time.
Fake Matty started slow and then picked up his pace quicker and quicker.
I shut my eyes and ran my fingers through his curls, trying to do anything to think of him as Matty.
As he continues thrusting into me, I feel tears begin to slip down my cheeks.
His curls aren't as soft.
He doesn't smell like cigarettes, candy and cologne.
He doesn't touch me the way he did.
He doesn't make me feel the way he did.
Hell, I'm not even slightly wet for this guy.. this hurts too much.
This hurts too much both emotionally and physically.
Fake Matty is too focused on the task to notice that I'm sobbing.
I finally find the strength in my shit-drunken state to push him off of me.
"Whoa!" He yells, clearly angry that I interrupted his pleasure.
I slide my clothes on as fast as I can and he does too in embarrassment.
"Did I do something—"
"You're not him." I slur, trying to wipe away my tears.
"What?" He asks, his eyebrows furrowed.
Tears blur my vision and it mixes with the effects of the alcohol, leaving me lightheaded.
I drop to my knees, lacking the ability to breath.
He walks towards me and tries to help me up but I just sloppily slam my fists against his chest.
"You're not him!" I scream.
I somehow lift myself up enough to sprint out of his room, crashing into walls on the way out.
Everything is spinning but I don't care.
I make my way out of the apartment and down the complex's stairs.
I tumble down a section of them and curse before getting back up to finish to the bottom of them.
Once I get to the doors, I shove them way too hard and they whip open.
Cold air rushes in and hits my skin, drying my tears to my face.
I reach around for my phone to call an Über because I know that I can't walk home from here.
As I'm about to call for a driver, an incoming call takes over my screen.
It's from an unknown number. I decline it immediately and press on the call driver button.
The unknown number pops up again.
I decline.
It pops up again.
I decline again, groaning.
It takes a second but it pops up again.
Annoyed and drunk, I click answer.
I place the phone to my ear, "What?"
My voice comes out disgusting, partially the slurring from my drunken state and the grogginess from crying.
"Ehm— Is this Isabella?" A familiar accent speaks into the phone.
Suddenly the bass from the club nearby, the cars passing on the street, the people laughing on the sidewalk.. it all goes completely silent.
My stomach twists in knots.
"M-M-Matty." I mumble, my voice shaky.
I can hear his sigh, "Where are you?"
"W-Why does that matter?" I scoff.
My head is pounding now.
"Oh my god— what the fuck Isabella!? Are you— are you drunk or something?" He asks, his tone slightly irritated.
I giggle, "Why are you calling someone who means nothing to you?"
He stays silent and I laugh again.
"I hate you so much. Don't come at me for anything! Worry about your fucking amazing life doing all of the greatest things and screwing the most perfect models! Got it?" I yell, trying to put together my words as best as I can.
He's quiet so I end the call, too exhausted from the night to even care.
I wait for a few more minutes before my Über pulls up and takes me home.
The whole drive I can hear his voice ringing in my ears and I just want to cry all over again.
I stare out the window, taking deep breathes and trying to focus myself.
"You alright?" My driver asks me.
He's a younger male, probably only around 30 years old. His hair is short and blonde.
He's very tan and smells like cherries.
I shrug, "What qualifies for alright?"
He laughs, "Good point. There's water bottles under the seat in front of you, you should have one. It will make you feel better. Promise."
I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have some water, I'm pretty thirsty anyways.
I reach down and pull out a water from the package underneath the seat.
I unscrew the cap and take a sip, the calm and refreshing liquid travelling down my throat.
It's not the normal burning sensation that I'm used to, but it's still really nice.
"Thank you." I tell him, as he approaches my apartment complex.
"You don't have to thank me. Take care of yourself, okay?" He tells me as he parks the car, allowing me to get out.
I nod, "You too."
He smiles as I get out of the car, maintaining some of my balance as the alcohol begins to clear from my system.
I get up the stairs and to unlock my door.
I can feel my whole body going numb, but my mind still hurts like hell.
I kick off my heels and take off my clothes before collapsing in bed, trying not to give a single fuck.

_________________
hiiii (:
omg omg omg 900+ reads!?? ilysm!!!
thank you thank you thank you for reading.
i took my friend's senior pictures today and i'm looking into more photo shoots.
i also make video edits so i've been doing that a lot.
i've neglected writing lately because i lack motivation for it a lot— sorry.
school also has been piling on me which sucks.
anyways, i hope you're doing alright.

much love.

xo
- adrianna