I wake up in my bed, covered in sweat and feeling cold. My heart is pounding. There's blood under my fingernails and on the sheets. My chest hurts. I don't remember doing that. I feel sick to my stomach, so I crawl out of the bed and run to the toilet. When I turn around, I see the mirror above the sink has splintered and cracked from the impact of the fist that came through it, sending shards flying everywhere. My neck stings where I cut it earlier. I guess that means I made it to work yesterday. My eyes are red; I look awful.
A knock at my door makes me jump, startled. I scramble to get dressed; I haven't eaten breakfast, so I'm hungry. I barely manage to pull my pants on before the front door swings open anyway, and I almost have a heart attack as that familiar voice yells out "LUCY!" and as I get to the door I throw my arms around her tight. She hugs me back tightly, nearly knocking me over. I wonder for a second if she can smell my breath.
"Lucy, Lucy, what happened? Where were you?" she asks me, holding onto me tight. "Didn't anyone call you? Did you get my message? Was your car okay? Why don't you answer the phone or text?!"
I hold my breath.
"Lucy, you said you'd be here two hours ago! What did I tell you? How many times have I told you? Call me when you're going to be late."
She starts pulling me by my arm towards the kitchen, but I stumble.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I mumble. "I'm just... I just... I'm sorry, Cassie."
"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me... Just fucking great..." I hear her mutter. "Are those stitches? Christ, Luce, you never listen to me and you know better than this. If something like this ever happens again-"
"I'm really sorry."
"-again-you know I'll kick your ass. This isn't even the worst one yet, is it?"
"...No." I laugh weakly.
"Well stop laughing and drink some water, you asshole. You're freaking me out."
"I'm... I was just thinking, I miss my old job."
"Hahaha, you wish. You think they're gonna hire an employee with a record of being constantly late and pissing off the boss?"
"Yeah." I say, grinning.
We sit down and watch TV. We drink beer. We make fun of each other a lot. It helps. It really does help. I feel less alone and more relaxed in her presence. It feels like I've been waiting for this moment forever, but now that it's finally here, everything seems brighter. We try to act normal for a little while longer before we fall asleep on the couch together.
When I wake up, my head hurts and the floor is spinning. I groan as I sit up and rub at my eyes, and my body aches all over. Cassie's not on the couch with me anymore. It's morning already; I feel nauseous, but I force myself to stand up. I walk into the bathroom to wash my face. I can still taste bile in my mouth, and I remember I threw up last night. I feel pathetic. The mirror is still cracked, but I can see a splintered piece right below it that's been put back in place. I stare at it for a minute, then I check my hair, which is tangled and messy. I've got blood on my shirt, but no cuts. That doesn't mean anything.
I hear thumping footsteps before Cassie throws open the door.
"Where were you, bitch? I almost called the cops!"
"Sorry. I overslept."
"Don't apologize, I told you not to do that. I had my alarm set and you didn't even show up. Do you care about your music or not? Are you fucking retarded?"
I cringe away from her. Not something I typically do.
"You want to take a shower first, maybe get cleaned up a bit? I can bring you a change of clothes. Or I can wait until you sober up a little."
"A change would be nice," I mutter.
"Fine." She sighs. "But just because I'm letting you sleep on my couch tonight, don't expect any favors."
She disappears back inside her room, leaving the door open for me to follow. I strip down and turn on my shower as soon as I get inside. Water cascades over my skin, washing away most of my sweat. But I can't seem to get clean enough; there's always more. I scrub hard against my neck and ears, trying to remove every trace of alcohol smell and vomit. Cassie comes out again with clothes folded neatly in her hands. She holds them out to me without saying a word. I grab my pants and slip into them. I feel naked and vulnerable in front of her, but she's just looking me up and down and acting like nothing happened. Maybe I'm just getting too used to her.
She pushes a clean t-shirt on me, grabs me by the arm and drags me out to the living room where I sit miserably.
"I'll make us breakfast."
"Thanks." I mumble.
The food tastes like shit, but I'm so tired I just pick at what's left and try to forget how I ate it the day before yesterday. Cassie sits next to me and tells stories about herself and I laugh when I can, but mostly we talk and argue and watch TV and I drink more beer than I should. I ask a few questions, but this time, Cassie shuts me out. So I drink and go to bed alone.
I lie in the dark and think of my dead friends and wonder if I'll ever be able to forgive myself for not being there for them. I remember how I was with them and I think of all the things they said, and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy, but also ashamed. It's impossible to really know anyone, I guess. I've known people for years, but never got to understand the kind of person I was talking with. I feel like an idiot for not realizing that sooner.