Page 8 of Deck of Scarlets

“Oh, I don’t know, your parents? Especially your mother,” sneered Nickie.

“You know how she is. Besides, it was stated in Grams’ will,” I reminded her.

“And I asked for proof.”

“You’re ridiculous. I’m telling the truth!”

“Then drink,” she ordered.

“What?”

“You heard me. If you’re telling the truth, then drink.”

Jeremy went to reach for the glass, but I sidestepped him. “How the hell does that prove anything?”

“You know exactly what it proves.”

I gripped the glass tighter, trying not to scream. What did she want from me? I tried my best to please both my parents and her, but lately, that had been a losing battle. If I didn’t please my mother, I disappointed Nickie, and vice versa. All summer, we did everything we could to make unforgettable memories, and somehow, that wasn’t enough for Nickie. I hated the way we acted toward one another under the influence.

She tapped her foot impatiently. “Well? Are you gonna let that monster you call Mother win?”

I froze, images of the creature coming back tenfold. My hands began to shake from the fear of it waiting for me outside, or worse, coming in here and killing all of us. The liquid inside the glass swished from my shakes, trying but failing to calm my erratic breathing. The others behind Nickie started to chant, begging me to chug whatever she’d ordered.

The quicker the alcohol was consumed, the faster these memories would fade.

My favorite coping mechanism.

Fuck it.

I chugged the whole glass, slamming it down on the bar table nearby. Nickie grinned like she had won the lottery and wrapped one of her arms around my shoulders. “Let the real fun begin!”

Chapter Four

Istumbled into bed at three-thirty in the morning, my feet on fire from standing all night in heels. I didn’t know when the high of the drugs wore off, but at some point, Nickie held my hair while I vomited in the club’s dirty toilet. She had to wash my hair in the sink where chunks of my dinner from earlier got caught when I missed the toilet the first time.

Not my finest moment.

Standing just under the threshold of my room, I tossed my heels on the carpeted floor, the warmth of the rug seeping between my sore toes. Leaning against the doorframe, I thought of Nickie, and our earlier argument faded like graffiti on the concrete in the city, washed away until something new replaced the mess.

We never resolved anything between us, we just continued to dance around our issues. A friendship that had lasted for years yet hung by the thinnest thread. If it wasn’t for Jeremy buffering most of our squabble, I didn’t know who would live to see another day.

But I continued to stay, because ten-plus years of friendship seemed harder to throw away, especially when they’d seen you at your lowest low compared to the highest high.

Pushing myself off the doorframe, I somewhat stumbled and hit my knee hard on one of my bedside tables as the sound of my insulated water bottle crashing to the floor made me jump. Cursing loudly over the pain, I tried to undress, struggling to remove articles of clothing, but I couldn’t reach the stupid, tiny zipper down my back, which irritated me more.

Eventually, I gave up and left my dress half unzipped and rolled on my bed.

Incredibly thankful for my blackout curtains, I passed out right away, only to wake an hour later to nightmares of ugly creatures lurking in the shadows in the alleyways of New York City. The clicking sound repeatedly replayed in my head as I struggled in my dream, trying to escape it from coming after me. Its long claws scraped across the brick walls as the gooey substance drifted along, creating a path where it once walked. But it always ended the same, with something or someone dressed in that red fabric destroying the gruesome thing.

Reaching for the silver flask under my pillow, I took steady sips, waiting for the waves to stop rocking the boat and fall back to sleep.

A few hours later, my mother hovered above me as if she were at a funeral service, praying over the dead.

“Ah! Can you not do that?” I said, wiping the drool from my cheek.

“I wouldn’t have to if you just came home at a reasonable time,” she said.

“You said it was okay for me to go,” I reminded her.

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