Page 19 of Love Beyond Repair
“Want me to call a cab for you, honey? Looks like you’ve had a shit night.”
I look into his kind eyes and nod. It’s the only thing I can manage. That one nod. Every other part of me is broken.
Chapter ten
Bex
Waking the next morning, I feel lost.
Was last night a nightmare?
Did that really happen?
Those assholes thought I was a joke. They bet their mate to kiss me. That’s what I have become, a cheap dare. A forfeit. A laugh. A memory they’ll tell at liquid brunch.
With my head in my hands, shame washes over me at the realization that the whole sleazy event was real. This is my life. I’m a ghastly girl who must rely on men paying each other to get attention.
Sitting up in bed, there is blood on the sheets. Pulling the duvet to the side, I stare down at my legs. They’re covered in scrapes and bruises. I remember running from theclub. I remember falling. I remember the pain. I shudder at the memories.
The apartment was empty when I got home. Everyone else still out. Making a beeline to the fridge, I took a bottle of white wine and one of the extra-long party straws, then headed to bed. That’s the last thing I remember before the oblivion of alcohol flooded my brain. It was pure relief.
I check my phone. Ten missed calls. They must know I’m home. My friends will be so angry with me for bailing. I broke our code. Don’t leave the club on your own. Don’t leave without telling someone where you’re going. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I listen for signs of life outside my bedroom. Nothing. The apartment is silent.
I glance at the small alarm clock on my bedside cabinet. It’s bright pink with Minnie Mouse in the center, her arms pointing to 9:15 am. I love that little clock; she reminds me of happy times playing with my dolls in my bedroom at home.
My toes sink into the thick fibers of my carpet that are snug against my skin. My head isn’t sore, but it’s whirling. It crosses my mind that I may still be drunk. It was only a few hours ago that I was drinking wine through a straw directly from the bottle. Pinot Grigio, if I remember correctly. Looking at the evidence on the floor, I confirm it was Pinot. Classic.
My headaches don’t tend to be too bad when I drink that. It’s the harder stuff that makes me ill. I stagger to mybathroom to survey the damage, my mind racing over last night’s events. It’s the worst I’ve been made to feel in my entire life. Both gullible and embarrassed. I don’t want to see anyone today, least of all my friends.
The best thing about this apartment is that every bedroom has a bathroom. Whoever designed it was a genius. We took the flat for this exact reason, privacy. I don’t like to share my personal space. I want to leave all my crap lying out; I know where it is, then.
Woeful eyes look back at me from the mirror. Oh hell, I look like I’ve just stepped out of a horror movie. My mascara has run down my face with my tears, the rest of my eye makeup pulled across my face to form a bandit mask. My lips are pale and my skin gaunt. The bird’s nest on my head looks as if little eyes should be watching from it.
I’m a mess. I look like someone who deserves to be mocked.
Roughly washing the muck from my face, then viciously brushing my hair into some sort of style, I berate myself for being so damn stupid. To believe a suit like that would be interested in someone like me.Of course it was a joke, you idiot.
A soft knock at the door distracts me from my self-loathing. Amy pops her head around the corner.
“Bex, can I come in?”
“Sure,” I mumble, walking past her and sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Where did you disappear to last night? We were worried about you.” Her voice is firm but kind. She’s giving me a chance to come clean. Gives me a chance to admit that what I did was wrong.
I’m trying to collect my thoughts as she watches me. Do I want to tell her what happened? That a group of dicks made me their dirty bet for the night? That a cretin was paid to put his tongue in my mouth. Then laughed about it. Embarrassed and not knowing what to say, I stay mute.
“Bex, when we couldn’t find you, we came home,” she says, firmer now. My guilt churns. They cut their night short because of me. “We asked the bouncer, and he said you had a fall, that he put you in a taxi.” I nod because that part is all true, but I stay silent.
“We got home,” she continues, “and you were passed out on your bed, covered in blood with a tear-stained face.” Her eyes widen, and she reaches for my hand, encouraging me to speak. “Bex, what did you do?”
I look at her, wordless. What didIdo? I can’t. Not like this. I hate the fact she’s looking at me with pity in her eyes. Screw her. My sister should be more fucking dependable.
Shrugging my shoulders and faking a smile, I sneer, “Oh, you know me, Amz. You can’t take me anywhere.” She sighs and gets up, leaving the room, saying nothing. Only closing the door softly behind her.
***
Monday morning comes as a welcome distraction from the disaster of the weekend. Saturday and Sunday were spent avoiding everyone by sitting in my room reading, only emerging to meet whatever takeaway deliveryman came knocking.
