A Dreamers Dream

I swear i am NEVER drinking again. Perth & Melbourne, Australia.

Maddie's perspective

Oh my god, Owww! Is the first thought that I have upon waking up the next morning.

Well, afternoon I suppose technically, as its twelve-thirty-three already according to the clock situated on the TV across the room which is obnoxiously glaring at me with its too bright little red pixels.

Urgh. What time did I even get to bed? I haven't done more than gingerly open my eyes yet, and the pain in my head is already excruciating. I'm guessing I drank more than my fair share last night.

"Morning sleepy head" Sammy's voice interrupts my thoughts way too loudly. I slowly risk turning my head to face her and cringe as the entire room dips and spins around me. She's looking perfectly awake and cheerful, perched on her bed playing on her phone. Well. That's not fair, why does she look so normal when I feel like something has crawled into my mouth and died?

"Urgh" Is all I manage in response as I grope around blindly on the bedside table next to me for water, praying that I at least had the forethought to leave a bottle there last night like I usually do, but my hand comes back empty... and hurting. Ow again!

What the hell? I don't want to risk moving my head again, so I decide to manoeuvrer my very painful hand in front of my face instead. Still, even that small movement causes streaks of white-hot pain to shoot through my fingers. Where's my bandage? I wonder idly as I examine my bare left hand, which I am sure, up until sometime last night, was still in a cast. Hang on, how am I even back here at the hotel? So many questions!

I close my eyes to try and combat the throbbing pain in my temples long enough to try and sift through the muddle in my brain in an attempt to find the answers. I remember coming back from the beach, getting ready with Sammy and heading out to a few bars. I remember the margaritas... oh so many margaritas, I cringe, swallowing down bile. And there was dancing, and the horribly sour green shots, then hmm... then... Oh my fucking god. I called Harry! Noooo that can't be good!

"Sammy... what happened last night?!" I ask her, shocking myself with the sound of my own voice, which is croaky and hoarse.

Slowly, oh so very slowly, I try and sit myself up, carefully positioning the pillows behind my head as I do so and pushing away a few stray strands of hair. Ew! What the hell? Something sort of crunchy but somehow slimy at the same time comes away in my hand, and my heart races at the sight of the foreign object as I shake it loose from my fingers. A long strand of greenish-brown seaweed lands on my bed next to me.

"And why do I have seaweed in my hair??" I ask more frantically, my voice going up by a fair few octaves, which in turn, causes my head to pound even more. Sammy, helpfully, collapses into a fit of giggles at this point.

"Aww, babe. How much do you remember?" She replies when she catches her breath and makes her way over to the mini-fridge in our room, she pulls out a bottle of water which she passes to me. I've never been so grateful for something so simple in my life and drain it practically in one.

"I remember the bars we went to? Near the beach? Then the club. I think I remember Freddie turning up? And I think I might have called Harry. Why on earth did you let me call him? Friends don't let friends dial drunk! Especially not to their boss!" I question her indignantly, my voice sounding slightly stronger after the water at least.

"Ha! Cos I wasn't bloody there! You wandered off for some kind of weird early-hours-of-the-morning stroll after the bartender in the club refused to serve you any more booze. Scared the shit out of me actually. I couldn't find you anywhere, and my phone battery had died. So sorry, but I'm actually really glad you called Harry, god knows where you'd have ended up if he hadn't come and found you." Sammy says, and there is a clear look of relief on her face. "That boy is a godsend, I tell you." She adds