A Night to Forget

~Merina Pov~

The cold night air folded itself around me like a permanent grasp as I walked aimlessly through empty streets.

My chest hurt, my breaths were shallow, and each step seemed to have become a task of greater effort to take.

I held the test result in my hand, but it had been crumpled so badly. My mind was at a gallop with a thousand questions, none of which I had answers to.

How had things come to this? How had my life fallen so utterly apart?

Memories came rushing back, uninvited and merciless.

I was such a bright and carefree kid who loved singing my heart out and the only encouragement I needed was my mother's warm smile.

I had won little awards for singing and playing the piano, for just about anything of merit. As I grew up, the world seemed full of possibilities.

But then, my mom got sick. I still remember how weak she held my hand and the whispered promises that it was all going to be alright. But it wasn't. She died. And With her went all light from my world, or so it seemed to me.

I shut down. Closed myself off from the world. I Saw how my dad got remarried.

The world just kept spinning without her. And I had my stepmother, with eyes as cold and calculating as can be, to make sure never to miss an opportunity that it presented itself, every time reminding me I was an outsider with my own family.

My songs and my talent were all just a means for Sofia to shine, to be on the receiving end of awards and praise as I melted further into the background. But really, what did it matter? All I had ever wanted from them was love. Maybe they will love me, maybe they will care about me. But What did I get in return?

"Haha!" the sound I let out wasn't quite crying, but close.

No one remembered me anymore. Sofia took all that away from me.

I stopped and looked around. The street was dark and empty and the silence pressed against my ears. I had nowhere to go. No friends, no family. Even people I'd pour my heart out to had left me broken and alone.

I dropped to my knees, skin slamming hard onto the pavement, as finally, tears blurred my vision. The envelope in my hand fell and scattered onto the ground. I looked at the bold letters of the test result, the diagnosis staring back at me: mid-stage brain tumor, immediate surgery required.

A sob came out from me, raw and uncontrollable. I clutched at my head as the weight of it all came down on top of me. I remember the indifference of my father, Sofia's disdain, and Liam's betrayal. All of it came crashing down on me like a train.

My cries cut up into the night, the sounds painful and heartbreaking.

When at last the tears had ceased, I felt as though my body were empty.

Trembling, I took up the paper and gazed at it with cold, empty eyes. Then, as if of its own accord, almost, I tore it in half. Oh, there is something so horribly satisfactory in the sound of any paper tearing.

I tore again, again, till what remained was the pieces which can't be gummed together.

I shifted to the side on top of them, and with a kick I sent the rest flying into the nearby bin. I laughed weirdly and it sounded like a jagged, venomous sound barely recognisable as my voice.

"If I'm going to die now, anyway," I said to the empty street, "why not go out on a spree?"

I laughed again, this time more loudly, and the sound carried off into the night, like a siren. My head reeled with madness and despair and something else, a wild urge to do something, anything, to relieve me of all this.

As I continued walking in the street, The lights of a bar attracted me and before I knew it, I was in.

The warmth of the room hit me, and the low murmurs and chatter filled my ears.

I walked straight to the counter, my movements unsteady but purposeful. "Whiskey," I said, slapping money onto the bar. "And keep it coming."

The bartender raised an eyebrow but didn't argue—well, that's what he wanted, more sales!

Glass after glass slid across the counter, and I downed each like it was water. The burn in my throat was nothing compared to the painful feelings in my chest.

"More," I said, my words starting to slur.

The bartender hesitated. "Are you sure you—"

"More!" I growled, cutting him off. Why is he talking nonsense with me?

He did warily. I could sense his disapproval, but I didn't care. What difference did it make? Nothing made any difference any more.

The fifth or maybe sixth drink later, or is it more than that? I don't know which it was, caught me with my elbow on the bar, my eyes blurred. The world had gone a long way off and faded out, like I'd been looking through a wall of stained glass.

Then something clicked in my head, and I lit up. "Hey," I said, barely above a whisper. "Do you… do you have any… are there any hot guys here? The best ones?"

The bartender scowled. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." I grinned, lopsided and drunk. "Bring them. All of them. I… I want the best."

"You'll have to pay for that," he said, folding his arms.

"What?! I have money! Okay, not much, but I'm freaking loaded. But the money's not on me." I Sighed miserably as that thought came into my mind, I have worked so hard for that family, yet still have nothing in my account. Very funny.

I waved my hand dismissively. "Of course, of course. Just bring them. Why is everyone so mean?" My voice cracked and tears welled up in my eyes once more. "You hate me too, don't you?

Everyone does. No one cares about me."

The bartender shifted uncomfortably and looked around, clearly seeking refuge from my tirade.

"Fine!" I exclaimed, throwing up my hands. "You're useless anyway."

I struggled to my feet, and as I did, the room started spinning. I needed to get out of there. No, maybe stay. I didn't know. My feet seemed to move on their own, my steps weaving in a pattern much like a drunken sailor.

I stumbled down a hall in search of the bathroom. Everything was a blur, my mind just a confused jumble inside. Then finally, an open door swung into view. With fresh hope, I stumbled inside, making a beeline for the toilet.

When I emerged, I wiped my hands on my dress and ran into—well, someone.

"Ouch! My nose!" I yelped, leaping back and rubbing the sore spot.

A deep rumble, apparently a man's voice, spoke from above me, "Who are you and what are you doing in my room?"

I blinked up at the man standing over me, and my breath caught in my throat. He was so tall, over me by intimidating inches, chiseled with scorching hot eyes that burned up everything about me. I was drunk right now, obviously so. Why else would I take notice of that kind of guy?.

I screwed up my eyes to stare at him distinctly and mumbled, "Your room?" I questioned vaguely, wavering. "This is the bathroom."

He folded his arms and darkened further. "Does this look like a bathroom to you?"

I yanked at my wrist. "It's all the same. You… you must be one of those… male escorts."

His jaw clenched, and his eyes slit. "Get out," he rumbled, his voice murderously low. "I don't want to hurt you, but if you don't get out now, you're going to regret it."

I cocked my head in a tilt, the defiance bubbling up in me throwing the warning signals in my brain aside.

Alcohol emboldened me, or maybe I thought he wouldn't dare do a thing to me.

"I hate being threatened," I said annoyingly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he said, his gesture indicating the door.

I flopped down onto the bed, crossing my arms and meeting his glare with one of my own. "Do your worst," I said, my voice wavering but resolute.

The room was silent except for the ragged sound of breathing coming from me.

His lips curled into a cold smile. "Then don't regret it."