Pound.
Pound.
What the hell?
I blink a few times, trying to register what that horrid sound is and how to stop it with the least amount of effort.
My head is foggy. My eyes are blurred.
I moan again but don’t move. The sound has stopped. I can go back to sleep.
Pound.
Pound.
Pound. Pound.
I moan louder, trying to drown out the sound.
“Jesus, it smells like someone died in here,” a woman’s voice says, but I can’t register whose voice it is.
That’s because someone did die in here—me.
Somehow the room gets fucking brighter.
Kill me now.
Another moan as the woman’s heels click against the floor. Only this time, I don’t think the moan is coming from me.
“Seriously? Take a shower,” the woman says.
I feel hands on my body. The hands burn, but I don’t have the strength to fight them.
She rolls me over. And my eyes open.
Liesel.
I growl, she shouldn’t be here. She’s dressed in a tight skirt and buttoned-down shirt. The kind that makes her cleavage pop while still pretending she’s a lawyer instead of a whore.
I hate her. I was content without her coming in here and waking me up. Now she’ll force me to face the world without Enzo.
“You two look awful,” she says.
I kill her with my eyes, since I don’t have the strength to do anything else.
Liesel looks down at the floor where I think Langston is sleeping. That’s where he’s slept the last however nights it’s been since Enzo was stolen from me. I’ve lost track of time and reason.
“Let go of the bottle of whiskey. I think you’ve had enough,” Liesel says reaching down to take the bottle from Langston.
“No,” he snaps like a child who is getting his favorite toy taken away.
The scowl on her face as she rips the bottle from his hands is awful. I know she’s going to win. She’s much more determined to piss us off than we are to defend our right to sulk and drink our sorrows away.
“What are you two doing?” Liesel crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her perky breasts up higher. I can’t help but think her boobs are why she wins any cases in court. Men will do anything for boobs like that.
“What the fuck does it look like we are doing? We are drinking until the pain is gone,” Langston says, standing up to meet Liesel’s glare.
Maybe he isn’t as hungover as I am? Because I’m incapable of standing.