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It was over. Everything was over.
My back slid down the edge of the bath as I sunk down and curled my knees up into my chest, letting the water rush over me until it had long gone cold.
A few nights later, music pounded into my head as I slammed another tequila down my throat. Alcohol did the trick to wash away the slump I’d been in. Macey and Erica laughed as they shouted unfathomable words at me, impossible to hear over the blaring music in the club we’d stumbled into.
The room lurched every time I moved, but I didn’t let that stop me as I danced until my body ached. I might not have had Mac’s heady presence to fuck the intrusive thoughts out of me, but I had my girls and booze, and he could get to fuck for all I cared.
The night wore on in a blur of moments of clarity amongst long periods of confusion. Seeing Macey and Erica. Dancing with hands groping me. Being given more shots. Someone kissing me. Losing my friends. Feeling sick. Feeling lost. Crying in the back of a cab.
Home.
The sun was high outside my window by the time I came to. Bright light assaulted my eyes where I’d been too drunk to close my curtains.
I tried to move, but everything ached. Pulsating pain ripped through my skull as I tried to sit up, but there was a weight on my bed next to me, pinning my blankets down. Sitting up took all my strength, leaving me feeling shaky as I looked over at the man in the bed beside me. It was neither Tommy nor Mac, the man’s thick blonde hair poking out from under the duvet.
Fuck, I must have brought him home with me.
I didn’t remember him at all.
Slipping out of bed as quietly as possible, I pulled on an oversized jumper before going to sneak out to the toilet. I froze when I heard a steady dripping coming from the other side of the bed.
A dark red pool amassed on my floor beside the bed, a steady drip adding to it. My hands shook as I stepped closer to the bed, sweat gathering along my back as I pulled back my duvet.
A scream ripped from me as the man lay in a pool of blood in my bed, his throat cut from ear to ear.
Had I?
A wave of vomit hit my throat as I ran for the bathroom, barely making it before throwing up. Tears pricked my eyes as my stomach heaved, the image of the man in my bed burning behind my screwed closed eyes.
What had I done?
Fuck, had I killed him?
I wracked my brain, trying desperately to piece together the previous night.
It was all a series of distorted moments. I didn’t remember sleeping with the guy, and I definitely didn’t remember killing him.
I curled up in the bathroom as I tried to make sense of the dead man in my bedroom, his blood staining my floor by the minute.
Eventually, I braved going back into the room, rooting through the bed until I found my phone stuck to his icy back. I scrolled through some garbled messages to Macey and Erica, which weren’t at all legible, before checking my call list. Nothing.
If I’d killed the man, surely I would have tried to call for help and not just rolled over and fallen to sleep?
There was nothing on my socials, or the girls, bar some pictures of us early in the night as we took selfies before we’d started on the tequilas.
I paced my room, looking at the dead man as I got myself into more and more of a panic. It had to be me. There was no-one else here.
Unless...
Unless Mac had come back and been angry to find someone in my bed.
I pulled up our text string and sent a message.
Did you break into my house last night?
My leg shook as I sat on a chair across from the body and waited for his reply.
No. You told me not to come back.
