Page 55 of Signed for You

Before I get very far though, in one of the guest rooms, I hear roars of laughter, male laughter, and decide to check inside to see if Crow has found some of his friends that he’s got distracted with.

I can feel my body moving from side to side without my consent. My head seems to be swimming in thoughts that I can't straighten or comprehend.

I crash into the wall through my drunken stupor, but quickly lift myself from it in the fear of someone realising how drunk I am.

I’m still in control. My body is just a little out of sync with my mind. That’s all.

I push open the door, apparently forgetting formalities and knocking in my drunken state and find two guys that I vaguely recognise.

I can’t pinpoint their names. Sober me would probably know, but vodka drinking Charlie has absolutely no idea.

I think the one on my right, the one dancing on the bed, might be Matt. Or is it Max? It might even be Marty. It starts with an M, that much I’m sure of. I think. He’s got ice blonde hair and the darkest eyes. He’s always covered in cuts and bruises from fighting. My dad doesn’t like him but has never had enough evidence of bad behaviour to get rid of him.

The one on the left looks similar with light hair. This one has darker streaks through his though, a disgusting smirk stuck on his face, and clothes that reek of weed.

Stoner and maybe Matt. Wait no, we’ll call him Marty.

I notice probably a moment too late that there’s coke laid out on the dressing table in the middle. This must be one of their rooms. There are pictures and posters all over the place, men’s clothing and odd shoes hanging here, there and everywhere.

“Sorry, wrong room.” I salute to them for whatever stupid reason as I go to leave but I am pulled back by hands on my waist.

How did they get that close to me without me realising?

“Get off me!” I scream, but watch as I struggle in the ones embrace, the other shuts and locks the door.

Oh fuck.

Why did I drink?

I can feel it. My arms, my legs, my whole body. It’s not as capable. Not as strong or decisive as what I am in a fight when sober.

He lets me go but I don't move.

It's Matt/Marty that locked the door. He's blocking the door. Stoner is watching me with a smug expression plastered on his face.

“You think you’re so high and mighty being his daughter, don’t you?” Matt asks me as he inches closer.

“Oh shut up and let me out.” I don’t let my fear show or at least I don’t think I do.

I’m not stupid. I know what stupid guys like these think they can get but they're not getting it from me.

Before I have chance to turn to see Stoner laughing, I feel the heaviest sensation against the side of my head and collapse to the floor from it, my eyes becoming dark, the room dim as I feel nothing but heavy darkness.

I wake in a new room, my eyes adjusting just enough to see that I'm not in any place that I recognise. How did they get me out of the Club and somewhere new without me waking? I must be in the club. My mind must just be playing tricks on me.

Is this about the mark that had been placed on me? Or is it purely bad luck?

My eyesight is blurry, my head drumming. I can see their lips moving, but I can’t hear them. I can see five, no six of them even though I know there’s only two. The same two.

I try to move, to get up but Matt, or was it Marty? No, Matt is on me in an instant, pinning my arms down from behind me, above my head.

My body is shaking, and I can feel my cheeks are wet. I’m not sure if it’s me crying, or blood from whatever Stoner guy hit me with. I can’t tell.

I feel like my head’s been flushed down the toilet ten times. Nothing I can see is making sense. I can't hear him but I can see Matt laughing. My legs are flailing, kicking. I’m screaming.

I can't understand what’s happening.

I need to get them off me, but no matter how much I kick or try to move my arms and fling my body from side to side, nothing’s happening.

---