Page 8 of Driftwood Daffodil

Going back to sleep also had some serious merits. Like not wanting to gouge my eyes out.

It would be nice if whoever was calling would just give up. Clearly I wasn’t in the mood to talk. Yet my phone was going on the third or fourth round genies in bottles. Then again it might just seem like that.

Again, no one wants to hear about someone getting rubbed the right way.

Grumbling in defeat, I reached out and snatched my phone. The only thing that stopped me from throwing it next to the pillow was the Darth displayed on the screen.

Veda, I should’ve known.

By the way, light was also not my friend.

I clicked to answer, dropped the phone down on the bed next to my head, and closed my eyes.

“Finally.”

I loved my sister, but did she have to yell? “Why do you hate me?”

Sisters were supposed to be nice to each other and let them sleep when their head felt like it was cracking open.

I was never drinking again.

That thought was so cliche I wanted to throw up. It was also a complete lie. But I most definitely wasn’t going to drink for the next twenty-four hours.

Simon’s screwed up face flashed in front of me. Lips all twisted up while his eyes rolled in the back of his head. His eyes used to light up for me. Not last night. All the bastard did when he saw me standing there was smile. Cindy Fassbender’s head was bobbing in his lap and he thought it was funny.

Prick.

I could always tell everyone how small his dick was. Not that I’d seen it – that train I managed to avoid – but it seemed like the thing girls did when they were scorned. Simon and I hadn’t been dating long. Only three months, during which he never got more than a kiss. If blue balls were a thing then I hoped his ached the entire time.

Cheating asshole.

Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Life was full of disappointments. My brother Kato was proof of that. He was two years into a fifteen year sentence for killing one of the guys that raped our sister. And did the cops try to find the other two? Of course not.

Why would they waste their time on trailer trash like us? One of them did ask what Veda was wearing that night though. So there was that judgment.

“Nova,” my sister squealed, making me wish I still had that pillow on my head.

Was I in hell? This had to be the plane of the damned. Why else would my entire body be punishing me? My arms felt like they were weighed down and my left leg was doing this weirdtwitchy thing, where all the muscles in my calf would tense as my foot jerked out.

“Are you listening to me?”

Not in the slightest.

I snorted. “Of course I am.”

What the heck was up with my leg? Did it want to audition for river dancing or something?

“Good, so when can I expect you?”

What?I cocked a brow at my phone.

“That depends, if we’re going out for supper again I’m gonna need time to empty the hot water tank and about three bars of soap.” I paused and glanced down at the grass stains on my once white tank-top. “Maybe five bars of soap.”

“Jesus Christ Nova you didn’t hear a thing I said, did you?”

“Stop being overdramatic.” I sighed. “You asked if I was listening to you.”

See I was totally paying attention.

---