I try to open my eyes but it’s as if they’re glued shut.
“Tori Tor are you okay?”
I tell Jordan I’m fine but no words come out.
“Tori hon we need to know did you take something?”
Take something? I barely even had a drink I tell him but all that comes out is drool. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Tori can you hear me?”
I try to answer with a nod but the dead weight of my head causes me to slump next to Irish’s shoulder.
“See I told you she was just hammered man.” Mickey says.
“Naw she wasn’t in the club long enough to get wicked drunk like that. I’m telling you something ain’t right.”
“I just think we should wait until she can speak for herself that’s all. What if we bring her to the hospital and discover she od’ed on coke? She’ll be all over every rag by breakfast.”
Eh guys hello? I’m right here I say but nothing. Not even a grunt.
“What do you want us to do hon?” Jordan says rubbing my hand, and I will myself desperately to touch back. Please let me touch him back. But instead I just lay there like a zombie watching the palm trees zoom past outside until everything is a comforting blur.
“Are you sure we should have cancelled the doctor?”
“It’s what she wanted.”
“I know but look at her-she’s got two hoodies on, and still shivering.”
“Ggguys I appreciate the cccconcern but I’m okay. Honestlyyy.” I say through chattering teeth and no sooner do I finish my sentence that I have to leap off the couch and run for the toilet again.
This time I remember to slam the door shut as I don’t want the camera crew recording me hugging the bowl again. At this stage all that seems to be coming back up is the water the guys keep giving me. An eerie silence haunts the bathroom until a muffled, angry exchange begins to pipe through the keyhole before finding me at my destination frequency-bowl fm. I concentrate on changing the dial but it all becomes too much, causing me to throw up violently again, and I watch on helplessly as my stomach lining sways, and swirls, reveling in the anarchy. I slowly stagger to my feet, with the raw acidic burn still fresh in my throat, and prepare to freshen up. I look in the mirror and barely recognize the pale, green, mascara horror show starring back. I begin to freshen up and flinch as the hot, cleansing towel runs over my cold, clammy skin. Oh my god I look like shit. I do my best to reapply my makeup as smoothly as possible but my hands won’t stop shaking.
“Tori are you alright in there? It’s just you’ve been in there a while.” Mickey says.
“Yeah everything’s great.” I say which couldn’t be further from the truth as I continue to botch my makeup.

Next Chapter.

Previous Chapter.

From the beginning.

One thought on “Bowl FM

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *