Prompt: STARTER SENTENCE: “I slowly peeled back my eyelids and immediately wished I was still out for the count”
Word Count: 1500 words
Deadline: Thursday, July 28, 2011, 8:30 pm EST
I slowly peeled back my eyelids and immediately wished I was still out for the count. Light blinded me and whoever that was drumming in my head deafened me, but there was no hiding from the truth of where I was.
The room’s retro psychedelic paintwork fitted my nightmare perfectly, as its spin slowly eroded into a more leisurely pace, and I managed to regain some focus in my vision.
Oh no, I was right. I really am here.
I tried to lift my head off the pillow, but Keith Moon picked up his sticks and beat out a mighty rhythm against my temple, so I put it straight back down again.
Oh the tequila had made so much sense last night. I’d even suggested it and I’d eaten the damned worm. Really? Will I ever learn?
And now here I was.
Lying in this bed.
In her bed.
Memories of the night before flickered through my mind as I raced to confirm my own worst fears, or maybe to allay them. One way or the other I was in a lot of trouble.
My heart sank as the full reality of my situation fixed itself into my mind. I tried once more to get up but Animal from The Muppets walked in and started a duet with Keith, my arms and legs refused to listen to the commands from my brain too, probably because they couldn’t hear them over the drumming. Either way I was going nowhere.
My life really had got messy over the last three years; a continually downward spiral that had led me here.
Ever since that day; that bastard day. The day my wife told me she was leaving. The day everything crashed. She wanted more than I could give her, wanted more Father for our daughter than I could ever be.
That was when I found the bottle. I haven’t put it down since.
Three years have floated past in a haze; she took everything I had and more. The worst thing she took was my hope.
I lost all of it that day.
Hearing the tears exploding down the cheeks of my daughter killed me inside. I never looked back; I never even tried to see her again. I couldn’t.
Sleazy one night stands with increasingly nasty women had been my only successes, whereas uncomfortable internet dates with anyone worth meeting had all ended badly.
Until last night.
And I was too damned hung over to be able to make any sense of it; too damned stupid anyway.
She had made the first move. She had! She came on to me! That’s why I’m here – she wanted me here.
This is her room. This is her bed.
What did it mean? If the drums would only quieten down enough to let me think, I might be able to work it all out. What exactly did this mean? Is it an accident? Was she as drunk as me? Is she hiding somewhere now, regretting everything we did last night?
Or – dammit I don’t know what ‘or’ actually is!
What is going through her mind?
Does she want me?
Where is she now? What is she doing, and when…?
When is she going to come back and untie me?