A taxi driver stood in front of their family home and rung the bell. Opening the door a nine year old boy took in the lifeless form of his sister lying in the mans arms and ran into the house screaming "dad, she's dead, dad, she's dead".
It had all started out innocently enough . . . . . two fifteen year old girls getting ready for a school disco.
Heading out they stopped at an off-licence, a place known to sell alcohol to underage kids. She stayed outside, nervous and unsure, staring intently at her feet while her friend approached the store. 'M' had the confidence of someone who had done this before and she envied her for that.
It had all started out innocently enough . . . . . two fifteen year old girls getting ready for a school disco.
Heading out they stopped at an off-licence, a place known to sell alcohol to underage kids. She stayed outside, nervous and unsure, staring intently at her feet while her friend approached the store. 'M' had the confidence of someone who had done this before and she envied her for that.
Peering into the bag 'M' now carried she saw a pack of stella and a large bottle of cider. A feeling of excitement coursed through her as she was offered a can and took her first sip. It tasted awful but it wasn't about taste, it was about getting drunk and having a good time.
Walking through town, alternating between swigs of larger and cider, she began to feel a numbness creeping up on her. It was strange and scary but good to feel out of control. Inhibitions went out of the window when, desperate for a pee, she relieved herself in an alleyway while 'M' kept guard.
She began struggling to put one foot in front of the other and her speech became slurred. Her limbs seemed to have taken on a life of their own, as though they no longer belonged to her.
She could barely stand by the time they reached the disco and she wondered if she could act sober enough to be allowed inside. As though answering an unspoken request a group of friends surrounded her, holding her up and guiding her inside without raising suspicion.
Staggering towards the dance floor her eyes caught those of a guy she knew. She held on to him to steady herself as she slurred the words "will you go out with me"? She was unfazed when he turned her down and asked him to point her in the direction of the toilets.
She took her time navigating the stairs, smiled at a group of people playing pool and then moments later found herself crashing into a toilet stall. Locking the door she fell to her knees and hugged the toilet bowl. She couldn't stop the vomit that fought its way out and was thankful that she'd made it to the toilets in time.
The cubicle spun faster and faster as the blackness started closing in. She heard someone say "are you alright, open the door" and with all the strength she could muster she turned and pulled back the latch before completely blacking out.
I can't say I haven't ever been in this situation; hell, I've done it after I was old enough to drink. The only difference is I have been left to wake up the next day still curled around that toilet. Happy fortnight.
ReplyDeleteIt was the one time I got paraletic. I remember looking in the mirror the next morning and being scared of my own reflection because I didn't recognise the person looking back at me. Toilets are never fun places to be especially when you've got your face right next to them!
DeleteThere have been many nights when I've been drunk enough to cling to the porcelain altar. It always felt like being a sole survivor of a downed ship, clinging to an outcropping of rock during a raging hurricane.
ReplyDeleteI love your description of clinging to the toilet bowl, so very true.
DeleteOh my, yes, I suppose most of us have been in this situation.... Now that my kids are old enough, I find myself holding my breath often, hoping that they are with someone who will take care of them when things go south. I'm glad you found your way home safely that night.
ReplyDeleteI was actually hoping to see more posts like this--I think a lot of people wrote about fun experiences but I think the fear and horror of a bad one is much more compelling.
ReplyDelete(It feels strange to be glad to see the retelling of something so awful. And yet.)
So glad you've joined in--looking forward to reading more!
Thanks Kim . . . it's these moments that make up the tapestry of life. Teenage years were full of them! So glad to be a part of the scintilla project, I love how it encourages people to write.
DeleteVery well written. I felt that I was right there.
ReplyDeleteThanks Deborah, the joys of being a teenager.
DeleteIf that image doesn't define "drunk", I don't know what does - beautifully drunken. You have certainly captured what it wsa like being a teenager.
ReplyDelete