Chapter 23 - The TemptationA Chapter by emmaThe house was dark. The
little light the setting sun offered illuminated only a few things, like the
furniture and pictures on the walls. I turned on the lights and everything
flooded with colour. I made my way to the kitchen and saw a yellow Post-It on
the counter. It read: Andrea. I am visiting your
mother for the night. There’s pizza in the fridge. Be safe! I love you. -Grandma I read it over, and
shrugged, though no one could see me. I pulled open the fridge door and grabbed
the box of pizza. I pulled out a slice and pretty much shoved it down my
throat, not bothering with the laborious task of chewing. After two and a half
slices, I grabbed the milk container and gulped a few swallows. I know, I’m a
pig. And to make it worse, I burped obnoxiously loud, but hey, no one heard but
me. I started to snoop through
the cupboard for treats when a shiny bottle in the back caught my eye. I
cleared everything else away and grabbed the bottle of booze. I guess we had
missed that when cleaning the cupboards. I rolled my fingers over the smooth
glass bottle, wondering what the poisonous liquid inside tasted like. I’d never
had any. My mother’s alcoholism had scared me away from the substance. Was Chase going to tell
Skye? Probably. He seemed pretty serious about it when he was kicking me out of
his car. I scowled. Why had he been such a jerk? Sure, I had just rejected him,
but he had overreacted. Thank God Nate had been there. But that didn’t change
the fact that Skye was going to kill me. I twisted open the bottle
and smelled its contents. I nearly vomited, the smell was so awful. But the
temptation to take just a small sip held me tight. So I did. I plugged my nose
and took a swig of the alcohol in the bottle. It burned my throat and I could
barely force it down, but it eventually piled into my stomach. My taste buds
hurt and instantly I felt like crap. I was so stupid . . . why did I do that? Maybe it was those thoughts
that influenced my decision to take another gulp. And another after that, and
some more after that. Before long, I’d pounded back the whole bottle. My head
screamed at me; it cursed me for being such an idiot and taking that sip. I
could already feel the nausea, and the alcohol was threatening to make an
unwanted reappearance on the kitchen floor. I clumsily found my way to the
bathroom and breathed heavily into the toilet bowl for a few minutes before it
all rushed back out. It was all hell after that.
I don’t remember details, but I know I spent the rest of the night regretting
my choice and hating myself. When I woke up, I was on the couch. The ceiling
was spinning, and my stomach, head and throat were all in immense pain. I
groaned and rolled over, wishing I’d just hurry up and die. I read somewhere to
drink a lot of water when you’re hung-over because you get dehydrated when your
drink. So I pulled myself up and
got myself six tall glasses of water. I put them all on the coffee table next
to the couch, so I’d have easy access. I drank two full glasses before I fell
asleep again, and thank God, since my head was killing me. Subtle vibrations woke me. I
groggily pulled out my phone from my pocket and checked my messages. Ten unread
messages. Oh, God. And they were all from Skye. All of the messages were about
the same, “call me”, “answer”, “where are you?” That sort of thing. Except for
the last two. They read: Andrea I’m coming over. I’m at your house. The second I finished reading that, someone knocked on my door. Then followed a yell. “Andrea, let me
in! It’s Skye!” Oh, crap. © 2011 emmaAuthor's Note
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Added on December 13, 2011Last Updated on December 13, 2011 AuthoremmaCanadaAbouti'm emma and i watch a lot of TV and movies and read a lot of books and come talk to me about that i would love to talk with you also: i write things every once and a while more..Writing
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