My eyelids are heavy, like they're made of steel rather than human skin. The amount of effort it takes to open them drains me. It’s dark except for the glowing blue light coming from the laptop across the room.
I need to get to a bathroom.
In an attempt to push myself into a sitting position, I find a head between weighing down my feet. I slide them out from under and replace them with a pillow from the back of the couch. My hand brushes long hair caked in yesterday’s leftovers.
I can’t tell who it is, but that doesn’t matter.
Right now I need a bathroom.
I flip my legs off of the couch and my feet inevitably tangle themselves in a mess of phone chargers and laptop cords. I stay sitting for a moment and look around waiting for my eyes to adjust.
Slowly I can start to make things out.
Two bodies lay on the floor in front of the tv, Don and Sam- the skimpy blanket they are under does nothing to protect them from the breeze coming in through the open window. I make a mental note to close it on the way back.
There’s a bra on the floor, hm. Although I can feel it, I double check my own shoulder feeling for a strap.
A quick glance at the couch and I see that the mystery head I adjusted earlier belongs to Isabelle. I should have known, she has always had the weak stomach and the mess in her hair was a sure sign.
I reach towards her face and move aside the hairs sticking to her lips.
A small groan causes me to shift my attention to the corner of the room where I spot a curled up Jess shivering under a pile of sweat shirts and pillows. Following the groan she turns over and let’s out a breath that tells me she’s asleep.
Cold, but asleep.
I decide to test my stability and push up grasping onto the coffee table for support. All of the blood rushes from my head and every bone in my body protests with a loud crack, but I’m up.
I begin my trek to the bathroom, shuffling my feet across the carpet to prevent myself from falling or stepping on any stray hands or feet.
I collide with a sprawled out Cailyn who is sleeping so silently I wouldn’t have know she was there if it was for the abrupt stop of my foot. I can see the sweat dripping down her forehead and her hair sticking to her neck. I lean down to drag off her blanket and end up finding 3 layers.
No wonder everyone else was cold.
I guess that’s one of the perks of being the last to pass out.
I take one of the blankets, the heaviest, and drape it over Jess. The other I throw back on my spot on the couch. Isabelle’s body heat isn’t enough to keep the chill from my bones.
I continue towards the bathroom gripping the wall as I go, thankfully not finding any more bodies to step over. When I reach the small alcove with the toilet I don’t even bother to close the door. The bright light makes my eyes scream, but I clench them enough to subside the pain.
I avoid eye contact with the mirror as I go about my business. Once I’m done I close the lid and wash my hands, still avoiding the mirror on the wall. After drying my hands on my shorts I look up.
My eyeliner, so carefully applied last night, reaches halfway down my cheeks- either from crying or eye rubbing: I can’t tell. My short hair sticks up at all angles. I spot a stray leaf and pull it out. An earring is missing and my neck is covered in red bruises. Oh god.
I take some toilet paper and try to clean up a bit. I wipe the makeup off of my face and attempt to run my fingers through my hair. Then I flick the light switch and head out to the kitchen.
Water.
I need water.
The aftertaste of cheap vodka lingers in my mouth.
I yank open the refrigerator door and look for the water jug. My eyes search over the contents and spot it right behind yesterday’s chinese. I don’t bother with a cup. I chug almost half the jug, stop for a breath, and then chug the rest.
That’s a little better.
There are shot glasses all over the kitchen. I pick one up. Jess’s mom brought her this one home from her trip to New Orleans last summer. Little did she know it would be used for our illicit activities instead of sitting on her collection shelf.
My phone.
I can’t remember if I called him last night.
If so, he’s pissed because he couldn’t understand a word of my drunken jargon.
If not, he’s pissed because I didn’t check in.
I always leave my phone in the same place. Not purposefully, it just always end up there. As I swing open the back door I spot it on the table.
The cold breeze lashes at my skin and instantly clears my mind. My head hurts a little less. I decide to sit at the table for a while.
I pick up my phone and press unlock.
7 new texts.
3 missed calls.
Not to mention countless social media alerts that concrete the thought that I may have advertised last night’s events a little too heavily.
I check the texts first.
Most are unimportant, just from friends I was talking to last night as I slowly lost coherence.
Then I read the ones from Jamie.
Hello?
Are you still at Jess’s?
Be careful please.
The calls are just what I expected. My mom asking if I would be coming home. Jess calling to tell me she was walking back from Pat’s a little less clean than before. And Jamie calling to say goodnight.
I listen to his voicemail.
“hey baby. call me when you wake up. i love you. please don’t go driving anywhere. and don’t forget to eat tomorrow.”
That last part gets to me. He’s not pissed. He’s worried. I know he just cares. He can’t stand to watch me pick at my food and my body. But food isn’t my priority anymore.
Besides- I couldn’t eat right now, even if I wanted to, my stomach feels like it could betray me any second.
I realize I’m still clueless as to how early it is and check my phone- 4:42 AM.
It was three when I had last checked the clock. Great, less than two hours of sleep. Today is going to be fantastic. Thank god it’s summer and we have nowhere to be.
We have quite the cycle.

We get drunk. Not just drunk, but black-out wasted. We share stories. We cry. We smoke.
Jess goes to Pat’s house. Don and Sam take the upstairs bathroom. Cailyn, Isabelle, and I go on walks and relish in each other's company.
We meet in the woods behind the cornfield hours later. We share more stories. We cry more. We drink more. We smoke more.
Then we grab hands and make our way back to the house to crash and sleep it all off.
When morning comes we clean up our mess. Make some coffee. Take turns in the shower. And go on a drive with the windows down.
Then we do it all over again.

It’s going to be light soon. I can’t see the sun yet, but the sky is lightening from black to a lighter shade of blue.
I should have grabbed some socks, my feet feel like ice cubes. I grab them hoping to warm them up and start picking at my nail polish. It’s such a bad habit, I need to stop that.
I turn my head and look through the big window into the living room. Don and Sam are sitting up rubbing their eyes.
I stand up, take one last gulp of fresh air, and head back into the kitchen. After searching for a moment I spot the second water jug in the refrigerator and make my way to the living room.
I hand them the jug, swipe the extra blanket off of the couch, and join them on the floor.
Resting my head on Sam’s shoulder I feel the vibration of her vocal chords on my cheek-
“Good Morning Sunshine”