Blackout

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The faint sound of a faucet seeps into the dark corners of my mind as I slowly become aware. My brain feels heavy and sluggish. God, this is the worst hangover of my life. I lie still with my eyes closed as a searing pain begins to form at the base of my neck and radiates through my skull. It feels like I am being stabbed in the eye with a fork. Yep- definitely the worst hangover of my life.

Pulling the blanket over my head, I roll to my side in a lame attempt to slow the nausea rolling up in the back of my throat. I take a few deep breaths through my nose to steady my stomach as I try to piece together the fragments of last night.

***

“Here’s to you and here’s to me, the best of friends we’ll always be. But if by chance we disagree, to Hell with you and cheers to me!” Shannon chanted, as she stood on the chair closest to me and we all raised our glasses in unison.

The five of us had been meeting at this local pub for the past two years for Thursday night trivia.

Tammy and Brit are the brainiacs of the group and carry us most of the time. Shannon, of course, is the entire spirit squad and Jamie is an expert in all things pop culture. Then there is me. If I am being honest, I am mostly here for the booze but every once in a while, I get an answer correct, especially if it relates to booze.

We all shot our Irish Slammers. I grimaced just a little because chugging back whiskey with Guiness never gets easier. The final round is about to start. Our team, Charlie’s Hells Angels, named after yours truly, is currently in first place. Our competition is the Blue Velveteen Rabbits who have won the last three season tournaments. We are all really hoping to steal the cup from them this summer. I just want to wipe the smug look of their faces for once.

***

Ugh that’s right we had lost to those bastards again. The memories start to flood my mind.

***

“Okay Charlie’s Hells Angels for the win, Name the ingredients for a classic Bloody Mary.” Gary the Drag King our host leans to the table with his mic.

Without so much as a glance at my team mates to discuss, I pull the mic towards me and confidently answer, “Vodka, tomato juice, lemon juice, tabasco, soy sauce, and a stalk of celery.”

“Ooh, that’s incorrect,” Gary the Drag King sharply replies. “Congratulations, Blue Velveteen Rabbits. You are this season’s winners!”

No, I’m right. I run through the list in my mind. Vodka, tomato juice, lemon juice, tabasco, Worcestershire.... oh God Charlie you’re an idiot. Slowly I glance towards the rest of the group. Disappointment with a hint of rage shows in their eyes. “I’m really sorry guys, I swear I thought I knew what I was saying”

***

Shame and embarrassment mixed with the vomit begins edging toward its exit. I throw back the cover, and I leap from the bed in one quick motion as I start to heave. The sheer force of the sickness brings me down to my knees several feet short of the bathroom. As the heaving subsides, I remain on my hands and knees with my eyes still closed tight, praying that the stillness will calm the spinning.

With a few long deep breaths, the revolving stops and I feel myself become more acutely present in this moment. The floor is cold on my hands. Cold? That is odd I think and I slowly open my eyes. Where I should feel a thick plush carpet, my palms feel a cold, rough grit. Concrete? Panic and fear flood my nervous system instantly as I fight the motion sickness that still threatens me. Slowly I move my gaze to the bed I essentially fell from and terror paralyzes me. This isn’t my bed, or my room. The only light comes for a dimmed fixture overhead. Where am I? How did I get here? Come on Charlie, you have to remember what happened last night! I focus inward trying to conjure the images into the front of my mind. The rush of endorphins and dread seem to slow the recall process of my drunken escapades of last night.

***

“Hi Beautiful, Can I buy you a drink to soften the pain of losing to my team yet again,” Andrew flashes his perfect smile and tilts his head slightly as if waiting to laugh at my verbal attack.

“You ass, just once I wanted to wipe that grin from your face! I feel like such an idiot. I make Bloody Mary’s at home for breakfast all of the time,” I replied as I slumped in my chair.

***

That’s right. Andrew and I had shut down the pub and stumbled into our shared ride together. Through the haziness in my mind, I recalled some pretty heavy making out in the back seat, but we had the good sense to wrap it up when we arrived at his apartment building. I did my best to sink down in the back as he got out. Careful that his wife didn’t see me. As the car rolled away, I pulled myself back into the seat and glanced briefly out the window before everything went black.

That’s it. Blackness.

I cannot recall anything else. I have no idea how I got here or where I am. Oh god did the Uber driver kidnap me! Where is my phone? I search myself, my pockets, nothing. My shoes have been taken off but the rest of my clothes seemed to be on and accounted for. Aside from the metal frame bed that sat in the middle of the room, there was no other furniture in here. In the far-left corner there was a mounted shower head and a tin can toilet that appears to be a bolted floor. In the far-right corner of the room was a single door with a small, barred window. Something you might see in a jail. Oh god was I in jail? Did I get arrested at some point last night? I scramble to the door that I am almost certain will be locked. I reached for the handle anyway frantic and hopeful I was not as trapped as I suddenly felt. The door doesn’t budge.

My head and the room start to spin again and all I could do is slide down the door to sit on the floor beside it. As my vision blurs towards unconsciousness, I vaguely think I hear a woman’s laughter through the door.