Sighing, I force myself out of the memory and return my attention to what’s under the pile of candy canes and pick up the orange bottle. I take a couple, then lay down on the bed, on my back with my legs and arms out to my side, just like they were that day my life changed for the worst six years ago, when he used me and then abandoned me. I’ve been on a downhill decline ever since, but the good thing is I’ve barely been able to feel it. I feel the soaring rush from the pills and then the crash from the wine as the two substances mix and collide inside me. They’re diluting each other, so I turn on my side and take a few more pills and somewhere between the sixth or the seventh my thoughts start to melt together. Until I feel empty.

Alone.

And I desperately want to find someone to fill the void.

I’m way too out of it to be out here, but I can’t find my way back to my apartment. So I keep wandering aimlessly around the parking lot with no real destination, and I can’t even remember why I came outside in the first place. I think it might have been the fear of being compressed between the shrinking walls in my house that made me go outside, but I’m not sure.

This older guy comes up to me as I make my way over to a carport and he tells me about this party up the street. I mutter something about not really wanting to go with him, but then he takes ahold of my arm and kind of guides me along, or forces me (I sometimes have a hard time distinguishing between the two) toward the street.

He keeps talking about swimming or hitting or something, but the grogginess in my head barely allows me to decipher half of the words he’s saying. His lips keep moving and he has nice, soft, full-looking lips, and there’s this scar on the bottom one. I thought his eyes were green, but when we step into the house, underneath the light, I realize they’re blue. His hair is way too long for my taste and he’s wearing this ratty-looking T-shirt that makes me crinkle my nose with distaste.

“I think I have to…” I try to say go, but my lips have gotten really numb. I stumble over my shoes, which aren’t fastened.

“You look really beautiful tonight,” the guy whispers in my ear and I’m relieved I caught the whole sentence.

“Thanks…” I trail off as the stereo is cranked up and the floor starts to vibrate beneath us. Everyone starts dancing and shouting as they drink beers and grind against each other.

There are people crammed into a small living room and the furniture has been pushed out of the way. The kitchen to my right is lined with empty beer bottles and there’s a large bucket filled with ice and drinks on the table. The loudness and chaos kind of reminds me of being at Ella’s, where everyone could just roam free and do whatever they wanted. The first time I witnessed it I thought it was insane, but now it kind of feels like maybe this is the kind of place I belonged the whole time.

“Do you want a drink?” the guy shouts over the music as he holds on to my arm.

I nod, relaxing. He doesn’t seem that bad. “Yes, please!”

Then he smiles and it’s a dark smile, one masked with an alternate meaning. I’ve seen this smile before right before he tied me to the bed. I’m not sure what the alternate meaning is but I can’t seem to concentrate on it for long enough to care. He releases my arm and I brace my hand against the wall nearby so I don’t fall down. I want to dance, because I love to dance. But I’m dizzy and vomit burns at the back of my throat. I try to recall how many pills I’d taken. Two… No, I took more, didn’t I? After the landlord knocked on my door? Yes, but how many did I take. Four… five… eight. God, I’ve completely lost track and things are starting to get dark and chilly, not just around me but in my head. The song switches and I try to focus on the beat. The guy who brought me here returns. He hands me a beer. I drink it. Somehow I end up dancing with him. He’s grabbing me roughly, forcing me against his body as he grinds against my hips. I’m not sure if I’m into it, so I try to back away.

“Where you goin’?” he wonders, pulling me back.

“I want to…” What do I want?

He shakes his head and probes his fingernails into my arms. I feel the skin puncture and the pain spans throughout my entire body. I try to shout, but the sound is lost in the music. He grins, all desire and need, just like every other guy who exists on the planet.

“Come here, baby.” He presses me against his chest, his hand sliding underneath my back, and I find myself wishing he were Ethan so I wouldn’t feel so unsafe. He grabs at my butt, touches me, and just like that a switch flips off inside my head. Like always, I become numb, every emotion draining out of me. Suddenly, it feels like I’m watching the guy as he gropes my ass, feels my breast, kisses my neck, presses our bodies together. I can’t feel a single thing, don’t want to. I don’t deserve to. I’m worthless. A whore, like everyone always tells me.

He starts to lead me through the crowd, to the hallway, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to take me to a room and do whatever he wants to me, when my eyes roll into the back of my head and my legs start to give out as my stomach burns.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” I say and groan and the guy scoots back faster than the beat of the song with his hands out in front of him like he’s afraid to touch me.

I take off, shoving through the crowd, and run out the front door, leaving it open as I stumble outside, then hurry down the stairs. One of my shoes gets caught in the bottom step and I can’t get it out, so instead I wiggle my foot out of my shoe. Then I hunch over and fall to my knees in a bed of tulips and bushes. My shoulders jerk as I dry heave, feeling like I need to throw up, but nothing will come out of my mouth. My heart is beating rapidly, slamming against my ribs, and my skin is coated in sweat. I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open and I fall back into the bushes, landing in the moist dirt on my back. I see the stars. They’re gorgeous. I wish I could touch them. It feels like I can.

I lie there forever, feeling my heart beat faster as my stomach vines into painful knots. Then my butt starts ringing, or maybe it’s my head… no, it’s my phone. Yes, definitely my phone. Rolling to my side, I feel the back pocket in my dress and retrieve my phone. I let my thumb fall on the talk button and then put the phone to my ear.

“Hello.” The sound of my voice hurts my head.

“Seriously?” Ethan says, sounding more pissed off than he usually does. “Again?”

“Huh…” I clutch my pulsating head.

“What do you mean, huh?” he snaps. “I can tell you’re drunk again, which means you probably need me to come pick you up from some guy’s house.” He sounds venomously jealous, and in the pit of my stomach, I like it.

“No, not drunk,” I mutter. “I’m out of it.”

“I can tell.”

“I think… I think… I took too much… this time.” It’s becoming harder to breathe, my chest constricting and it’s bearing weight down on my body.

“Too much what?” he asks and I think I hear concern in his voice. Maybe, but I could be wrong.

“The stuff…” I try to snap my fingers, attempting to think of the word, but I can’t tell if I still have fingers. “Those pills I have.”

“What pills?” His voice sounds all high and abnormally off pitch.

“Nothing… never mind… I’m really tired… I’m going to go…” I start to let my arm fall to my side.

“Lila, don’t hang up!” he shouts through the phone and I can hear a lot of banging in the background. “Where are you? At your place?”

“No… I’m in some bushes… and tulips.” I swat my arm at this blurry spot forming above me. “Ethan, it’s really cold.”

“It’s not that cold.” His voice is harsh and makes me feel even colder inside. “Now just tell me where you are and keep your God damn eyes open.”