Alone

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I've never felt that flustered before in my life, not even when I use girls. Sure I would check them out at parties, flirt with them, fuck them, then never saw them again. They never clouded my mind, never made me feel like I was going insane, never made me want to see them more. And I just met the girl. Have I become obsessed with someone I haven't even had a conversation with yet? I sat in the hallway across from her room instead of going to Reagan like I intended too. I had to get away from her, I just had too. In the few minutes I looked at her, it was as if my body had panicked. Nightmares cause me to feel the way that I did in that tiny room. All I know is that I won't have to see her again. The door clicks as if someone is opening the door and I quickly left the dorms and headed to my car without being caught. My phone kept vibrating, but without seeing who it was I turned it off. I wasn't in the mood to play 20 questions with Paul or Kimmy about me making an ass of myself. I'm such a fucking dumb ass.




That night I found myself sitting in the same parking lot as I did hours before. I ended up being the driver to the party for everyone. After sitting in a practice room for hours, I managed to calm myself down from how panicked I became earlier. You're most likely not going to see her again, my subconscious reminds me. Even though I managed to calm myself down, I still wonder why I acted the way I did. I'm so stupid. I managed to make a fool of myself in front of a girl I don't know, but won't leave my mind.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" I yell as I slam my hands against the steering wheel.

I rest my forehead against the wheel and close my eyes as I take deep breaths. "Remember what Dr. Phillips told you; inhale for five, exhale for five." I mumble to myself. My mind eases as well as my anxiety on the thoughts I had. I've been going to see Dr. Phillips about two years after living with Mary and Patrick. She thought it would help me by talking out my anger and frustrations with everything that happened in my life. He taught me this technique when we talked about my anger which was when I first went there. All of a sudden, a pounding at the passenger window causes me to jump from my previous position. Everyone piles into my car, laughing and chattering away as I sit here quietly with only my thoughts to keep me company. Paul cranks the radio, drowning out the mindless chatter, as I pull out of the parking lot.



When we pull up to the house, it was already packed. People scattered throughout the front yard in clusters and gripping their solo cups like it's their lifeline. Drunk girls stumble out of the house into the yard, cackling away most likely at something stupid. The bass of the music rattles my brain as well as shakes the floor. The living room is filled where it's difficult to get through the mosh pit of people. Sweaty bodies dance against one another, a few girls are dancing on the table, while strangers are making out and groups of people are scattered everywhere else.

"Fucking move," I mumble to myself as I push my way through to get to the kitchen.

Thankfully, there weren't as many people by the time I walked in. Everyone is either on the back patio or in the crowded living room. I grab a solo cup off the island and fill it with Jack Daniels and coke. The cool liquid burns my throat with each gulp I take. The Jack lingers on my tongue, taunting me. I look down at my half empty cup, lightly sloshing the liquid back and forth before finishing it and getting ready to pour another glass. The more you drink, the more you'll forget about her, my subconscious reminds me. As I take a gulp of my drink, I head towards the sliding glass door that leads out to the patio. Quickly, I spot Kimmy, sitting at the picnic table closest to the house.

"Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to be social." Kimmy says and I flip her off, heading towards the group.

"Where have you been? Fucking some random girl?" Paul slurs while lifting a full bottle of vodka.

"No," I mumble while struggling to get my cigarettes out of my pocket.

"So Kimmy, how's your roommate?" Michael asks, causing my head to pop up. Crap.

Michael isn't your usual frat boy. Every time I see him, he's wearing the same grey beanie, a t shirt and jeans, and black sneakers; he sticks out like a sore thumb from the rest of the guys. Then again, I only see him at parties or if Paul tells him to meet us somewhere.

"She's alright. I could've had a lot worse." Kimmy says looking at her nails. Oh?

"What makes her alright?" He prods.

"She's just quiet. I don't know her that well."

"You said you liked her when you met her." Paul says while leaning into her.

"I do, I do. We just need to talk more."

"Why isn't she here tonight?" I ask shocking everyone, including myself. If you're trying to avoid her, why are you asking about her stupid?

"Why are you asking?" Michael asks leaning onto the table.

"Just curious," I add before chugging the rest of my drink. Smooth cover, idiot.

"She doesn't party. She doesn't drink. I don't think she does anything but watch Netflix."

"Well if you ask me, she sounds like a prude." Reagan says holding her hair back and everyone laughs, including me.

I never really thought about it but if someone really stays inside to do nothing on a Friday night, then they really have no life.



As the night went on, the bottle of vodka that was once full became empty, my pack of cigarettes also became an empty cardboard box, and Reagan moved her way onto my lap. A lot of the people that were in the yard left, leaving our little group to be the only ones there.

"Harry, you good?" Michael chuckles.

"Y-yea I'm fine." I slur as my eyes close and the conversations become muffled while everything around me went black.