3
Present
The thumping bass blasts through the room, shaking the walls.
My body sways along to the music blocking out all the lacerating doubts.
This is the first party I've been to without Vesper.
She's been staying with Zain over break and meeting with scouting agencies.
I have hardly spoken to her, so instead of going insane inside my own head filled with loneliness, I came out to the latest campus party.
Bold of me considering this is exactly what started this endless spiral of bad decisions.
The devilish monster himself resurfaced my trauma.
Now, I'm in an endless vortex. I'm frantically trying to keep myself on track, but he took the last bit of strength I had left, leaving me with remnants of his depravity as a reminder of what I am.
Broken.
Silas and Val are sandwiched on either side of me.
I'm on my fourth drink and on the precipice of a blissful delirium.
It's just the pick me up I needed after the shit month I've had.
First, my computer shit the bucket, and despite being in a prestigious school, I don't have money like these rich kids.
Secondly, with Vesper gone, my mental health has taken a dive leading me down the path of heavy use.
I've always been the occasional user, up until recently.
It isn't her responsibility to keep me grounded.
Hell, I don't even open up to her about my problems.
What good would that do? No one wants someone to constantly unload on them.
Plus, with her background, I don't think she could fully grasp the shit I've gone through.
Of course that's no fault of her own; she's still an amazingly caring person, but she couldn't understand my struggles, so I keep them locked tight.
I don't need anyone to know my weaknesses.
I grind my ass on Val while I thread my fingers through Silas's thick, dark curls.
He shoots me a wolfish grin. Everyone knows drinks lower my inhibitions and shatter my walls.
Then I can feel something. Anything other than self-doubt.
It's a perpetual cycle. I know I need therapy, but that costs money.
Money I don't have. Instead, I use sex to numb my past memories and calm the flurry of thoughts with the occasional alcohol and drug induced coma.
They say time heals wounds, that's bullshit if you ask me.
If anything, it gives you more time to dwell on the demons.