Page 6 of Little Sparrow

I spin around and stare at my reflection in my full body length mirror, I look so different when I dress up. I step closer to the mirror and lean in, uncapping my lipgloss I glide my favourite shade of pink along my lips. I don’t need much makeup with my natural beauty, but I always paint my lips to match my clothes. I grab my matching clutch bag with my phone and keys inside and stroll outside when the uber turns up. My phone vibrates with a text to give me the address.

The bass of the music thrums through my body before I get through the porch door, I almost trip on an empty cup left on the ground, my shoes getting sticky from what I assume is beer next to the welcome mat. I squeeze past a couple of girls stumbling through the main doorway, I move to let them past and finally get through. I’m questioning why I came here, to a stranger's house in the wealthier part of the city late at night. But it’s too late to turn back.

The air is tight and hot, stinking of alcohol. I shake off the weird feeling settling in my stomach and attempt to look over the crowd, in my heels I spot Jenny near a table with some bottles and push my way through the drunken hoard of people. She hugs me tight when I reach her and passes me a shot, “This is so good, try it.” She forces it in my hand and grabs her own, clinking them together before taking it down in one swallow. I do the same, the liquid burns as it goes down my throat and I sputter. Jenny laughs. I don’t drink much, I’ve only ever had wine a few times. My dad being overprotective means I didn’t get this rebellious fun. I want to make the most of it.

“That’s strong, but give me another,” I hold out the glass and wait for her to refill, she agrees and does the same for herself, I’d never had vodka before, it’s not great, but it takes that stressful edge off. I swallow it down again, this time it’s smoother and then another after that. I lick the droplets off my lips. Jenny grabs a plastic cup full of something and drags me to a ‘dance floor’ which is really just a group of people grinding up against each other, but I don’t care at this moment. I want to forget everything weird about my life, so I dance, I drink more and dance until my feet ache and my body is tired and sweaty.

After a few different coloured shots and what I think was a beer, I get dizzy, I leave Jenny who pouts as I walk away, I giggle and stumble toward the hallway. My hand runs along the wall going up the narrow steps where people are crowding as I try to right myself. Urgh, I don’t think I’ll drink again, I clutch my stomach. Something feels wrong, I rush to the bathroom, lock the door and throw up all the alcohol I had drank, until there's nothing left. I feel awful. I stay sitting on the cold linoleum floor for a little while before dragging myself up and checking in the mirror. I’m glad I don’t wear makeup, because I really need to splash my face to sober up a bit and wash the sweat sticking my hair to my forehead. I quickly text Jenny to say that I have to go home and I’ll text her when I’m back. She replies with a sad face, but she knows what my life is like. Texting her when I’m home will ease her worry.

Taking off my heels and risking the dirty floor, I rush out the door, booking myself an uber again, the cool grass from the front garden helps bring me back into the moment. As I get closer to the road, the silver car pulls up. I must have taken a long time to walk outside, but shrug to myself. I’m surprised I didn’t fall over coming through the door. My phone illuminates and I look back down while squinting , it’s definitely my uber’s licence plate.

Not so gracefully, I fall in the back door and apologise while wrapping the seatbelt over my chest. I sigh in relief and tip my head back against the headrest as the car pulls away. The radio is turned down low and I can hear the traffic outside as my eyes are closed. My dad is going to bepissed, and a giggle escapes, I don’t care.

A bright light from beside me drags me from my thoughts and I open my eyes, I squint through the fogginess of the alcohol, it’s not just any lights, it’s another car. I squeeze my eyes shut as it hits the back of my uber, almost straight into the door I’m sitting next to.

Time slows and the car spins, the squeal of tires, horns blasting, screams filling the car. I realise they are my screams. Outside the window is just a blur of dark colours blending together. My stomach is heavy with nausea. We hit something else and I’m forced into the door, pain flared in my shoulder and hip. I feel my cheeks getting wet. I grasp at the door, I need to hold on until we stop moving.

I can taste the salty tears falling down my cheeks. Am I going to die?

Glass shatters and sharp pricks cover my arm and face. Everything stops spinning and I hang sideways. My chest is tight and my neck aches, I can’t move. I try to call for help, but only a sob escapes. My eyelids are too heavy, the red and blue lights flash through them, the sirens getting closer.

“Miss, can you hear me?” A muffled voice comes from outside the door, metal creaks and hands grab at my body, I’m so cold. Spots cover my vision before everything goes black.

The cool white room surrounds me, is this a hospital? It can’t be, there is no one else here, I sit up from the floor and groan, lifting my hand to my head, blood drips down my arm. I twist it and there are shards of glass embedded in it, I reach up to take it out. Flinching back from the pain.

“What happened to you?” Dantes voice comes from next to me, I didn’t hear him approach. His eyes trace over my body, a crease between his brows forms. He gently holds my hand and moves it closer to him.

My lips twist in thought, “I was drinking, got in a car. Pretty sure I was in a car accident,” I say, the sounds of metal scraping along metal echoes in my mind. I cringe.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks and I realise he is touching around the shards, I shake my head and immediately regret it and suck in a breath, my head is throbbing, my hand automatically reaches up and presses into a sticky mess. The pain flares.

“Looks like a good night,” He jokes, gesturing down to my outfit, a blush creeps up my cheeks when I realise how far my dress has risen, I attempt to pull it all down praying he didn’t see my underwear, but he’s probably just trying to take my mind off the pain.

“Yeah, it was, but I imagine this isn’t how a night out is supposed to go,” I chuckle. He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and the stickiness of the blood clumping up clings to my skin. I hold his hand to stop him. “I don’t remember going to sleep though, I must be unconscious,” I mumble.

He nods, “Yeah most likely, I was already asleep, in a normal dream.” He cocks his eyebrow, I hold in a smile.

“What do you dream about when you’re not here with me?” I ask, curious to know more about this man standing in front of me.

“Being out on my boat,” he shrugs. Now I raise an eyebrow. “You have a boat?”

He avoids looking into my eyes, and shakes his head. “I just like the ocean, the waters where I’m from, they are beautiful and perfect for a swim on a bad day.” I lean in closer.

“Tell me what it feels like, I’ve never been in the ocean.” I admit, I’ve learned to swim in our local pool, but never had the opportunity elsewhere.

“It’s cold, but a good cold. If you need to clear your mind, it brings you back. The tranquillity of the water is stress relieving. I haven’t been able to get out on the beach much, so I guess dreaming about it is a sign to go.”

I grin up at him, “Yeah, you should go. Tomorrow. Promise me?” His fingertips graze the back of my arm without the glass, but he doesn’t take his eyes off mine.

“I can’t make promises, but I’ll try.” My heart sinks. I won’t be able to keep that promise, but I smile anyway. One day I’ll go, just not tomorrow.

I can’t help but step closer into his personal space, but he leans back. Immediately I feel bad, a strange girl stepping into his personal space. I’m an idiot, I open my mouth to apologise, but he stops me with quiet words. “Have you told anyone about our meeting?” He asks, turning away from me, but I get the impression this is an important question anyway.

“No, have you?” I whisper, I’m not even sure why, so I clear my throat.

He shakes his head, “Definitely not, we need to keep it that way.” He stares up at me and my eyes widen a fraction, I was right, this is important. Does he know something about these dreams?

“My dad sort of knows, not about you, only the dreams, I had mentioned it and he told me he would tell me everything, something to do with my mum,” my head pounds as I think back.

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