Chapter 11: Blur

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

Becca

It was mesmerizing, but also terrifying.

He never stopped. Each bottle he consumed was replaced by a new one instantly.

One. Two. Three. Four.

I lost count after he chugged the fifth one. I watched him in awe.

I knew it was wrong. Every part of me was screaming to stop it. To pull the bottle away from his lips and stop the next drop from sliding down his throat, but I couldn't.

I knew the pain he felt -- I had seen it in his eyes. Felt it in his touch and heard it in his voice. It was heartbreaking.

Brett was one of a kind. He was always smiling, so carefree and full of life. The sadness and pain etched into his face tonight was foreign. It didn't belong on a face as friendly as his.

He wanted to forget, was that too much to ask for? There were endless nights after my father left that I wished I could forget; forget all the good memories we ever shared and, more importantly, forget all the sadness, all the pain. But I couldn't forget. I was too young at the time, too reliant on those around me.

Brett's not young. He's an adult and he's sure as hell more than capable of making his own decisions. Did I agree with what he was doing right now? Of course not. But I was here with him and I would look out for him, the same way he always looked out for me.

He picked up a new bottle, popped the cap and pressed the cold glass against his lips.

Tonight, he will forget.

Brett

It burned.

My throat was on fire. I couldn't think. I couldn't see straight. I couldn't even remember my name.

And it was fucking awesome.

Every sip wiped away the pain. In this moment, my father didn't matter. My screwed up family was the least of my concerns. All that I cared about was this bottle in my hand and the curious girl watching me from afar.

Her big blue eyes were wide in awe as she stared at me. She never looked away, not once. I knew Becca disapproved. Hell, even I disapproved. I was being an idiot, but sometimes the pain just gets the best of us.

My mothers voice cut through my mind like a knife in my side.

"He's home, Brett! He finally came back to us."

Her voice is what killed me. The hope, the love, was so apparent as she went on and on about how happy she was that my father came home.

It made me sick. I was disgusted by my own mother. The woman I loved more than anything in the entire world disgusted me. I hated myself for feeling that.

I wanted to drive home to be there for her, to wake her from this illusion and remind her that it was a lie -- that he didn't love us and he never did. But I was afraid to go home. Afraid that when I saw his face this time, his stupid, arrogant face that looked too much like mine, I would do something much worse than punch him.

So I did the next best damn thing: I drank.

And every sip fixed the gaping, father-sized hole in my heart.

My mother's words faded into the background as the alcohol burned its way down my throat. The burning was so intense that it engulfed all my other senses. My vision began to blur and I felt light on my feet.

I lifted the bottle up and savoured the last drops. It was empty.

I reached out and grabbed another one, desperately bringing it to my lips as fast as I could.

I was beginning to forget and it felt fucking amazing.

Becca

I lost sight of him shortly after. His teammates lifted him above their heads as he chugged an entire bottle of something. They cheered him on and encouraged him.

It made me feel sick. None of them knew. They thought he was having fun -- being a reckless teenager like the rest of us at this party. They have no idea the pain he's hiding or the reason why he's drinking. He wasn't having fun! His entire world was crashing down around him and no one gave a single damn. Well, no one but me.

They carried him out of the kitchen, an entire swarm of people ran after and cheered his name. What the hell were they cheering for? Alcohol poisoning? I desperately wanted to find him and bring him home.

This night was spinning out of control and all I could do was stand back and watch the chaos unravel.

I felt helpless. Where did they take him? I searched the main floor, following the crowd and peering into every door. Asking people where he was, but all they did was snicker or ignore me completely.

Why was everyone laughing? I kept walking, pushing through endless bodies to find him. He had to be somewhere. I searched every room I could and even checked outside.

Brett was no where to be found.

Brett

All I could see was blond.

Her blond hair was tangled in my fingers. Her lips felt so good on my skin. Making their way down my neck, my chest...

Where am I? I have no idea, but I don't care. Becca is here with me and that's all that matters.

Her lips are so gentle, so teasing, as she bites my skin. I pulled her head back up to mine, desperate to have her lips on mine once more.

Her kiss is hungry. Like she had been dreaming about this for so long. God knows I had been. Her lips parted eagerly and I took advantage -- swirling my tongue with hers and tasting every bit of her mouth.

She is mesmerizing in every way possible. My skin burns as her hands trail down my chest, stopping at my belt and hastily unbuttoning it.

"I've wanted this for so long, babe." Her wet lips were touching my ear as she whispers a trail of inappropriate thoughts to me.

Wait.

Something is wrong. Her voice sounds too confident, too cold to belong to my Becca.

Her hands feel foreign. Her kiss was too eager, too desperate. Becca didn't kiss like this. She was shy and soft, melting into my hands and waiting for me to make the next move. This person was dominating, guiding every kiss, every touch, as if she were an expert.

My body went rigid as my surroundings came into focus.

Where the hell am I? My head rolled on the pillow, taking in the room around me as my vision swam. Everything was a blur. Whose room is this?

"Babe?"

The unfamiliar voice snapped me back to attention. I looked down in horror at the girl laying on top of me. Her pink lipstick is smeared across her cheek, blackness smudged beneath both eyes.

No.

My blood went cold as I realized where I was and who I was with.

I pushed myself off the bed instantly, putting as much space between Jenny and myself as I could. I grabbed my shirt off the floor and threw it over my head, in a rush to get the hell out of here.

I was in the process of pulling my pants on as the door opened suddenly. Becca stood there, one hand on the doorknob and the other over her mouth, her beautiful eyes opened wider than I thought possible as she took in the scene before her.

My heart shattered into a million pieces.

"Becca, it's not what it looks like," I held my hands up in a silent plea but she was already gone, running down the hallway.

Running far away from me.

I sank down onto the bed in despair, my head buried in my hands.

I drank tonight to forget the pain my father caused me...

But what I felt right now was a hundred times worse.

Becca

The tears came so quickly, running down my cheeks and dripping onto my shirt.

My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest. I pushed my legs faster as I ran, finally reaching the door and bursting through it without a single glance back. Finally alone, I let myself fall. The tears fell down in waves as I buried my head in my hands.

He cheated on me.

Can I even consider it cheating since we weren't really dating?

Whatever it was, it hurt. A lot.

My throat burned as the sobs escaped, I couldn't breath. Every time I closed me eyes I saw him standing there: his pants down to his ankles and Jenny laying on the bed behind him, in nothing but her underwear.

How could he do this to me? With Jenny?!

My vision blurred as the tears swam in my eyes, pain overpowering every inch of my body.

I was vaguely aware of an arm being placed around my shoulder and someone guiding me to a car.

A kind voice was assuring me that everything was going to be alright. They were lying. Nothing could possibly be alright right now.

"Let's get you home."

I felt leather under me and heard the distant click of a seat belt as an arm reached across my chest.

I leaned my head back, taking deep breaths and squeezing my eyes shut, blocking out the world around me.

The anger took over as my body felt like it was on fire, coursing its way through my veins and begging to be released.

I felt a soft hand gently wrap around mine, pulling me out of my internal struggle and lifting me back into reality.

The blond curls were the first thing I saw, then the warm brown eyes. I was sitting in the car with Parker as he drove through the quiet streets.

He gazed at me quickly and smiled kindly, his face was full of sympathy. He knew what happened back at the party.

I felt ashamed as the realization hit me that everyone probably knew. Come Monday morning, I would be the laughing stock of the entire school.

"I need your address, Becca." His voice was soft as he spoke. My voice sounded strained and foreign as I told him my address, then pressing my lips together, not wanting to say anything more.

As my apartment building came into view, I felt completely exhausted -- mentally and physically drained. All I wanted was to lay in bed and sleep, and to forget the scene I witnessed just minutes ago.

I could hear Parker speaking but his words washed over me, I couldn't grasp anything he said. I mumbled a thank you and walked out of the car. I ran to the entrance, the desperation to be in my room growing rapidly.

My head spun as I walked through the hallway, everything seemed so foreign. My eyes stung and I was sure they were bright red and completely swollen.

Closing the door behind me softly to not wake up my mother, I tip-toed to my bedroom and sank into my bed, not caring to remove my makeup or my clothes.

I felt like I was in a dream -- that tomorrow morning I would wake up and this entire evening would be a nightmare, a simple production of my imagination.

But I wasn't stupid enough to believe such lies. Brett slept with Jenny, I was sure of it. The scene I witnessed didn't leave much to the imagination. The hurt was overwhelming as the truth finally sunk in. But I hated the pain I felt. I didn't want to care, catching feelings for Brett Wells was something I never expected to happen. Yet, here I was, laying in bed crying over a boy that obviously could care less about me.

I felt pathetic. Self-loathing mixed with sadness was a destructive combination.

The look of horror in Brett's eyes as I opened the door was burned into my mind as I fell asleep.

I replayed the scene over and over in my head, each time was more painful than the one before.

I finally drifted off to sleep, allowing the darkness to consume me.

I didn't want to wake up.

I didn't want to find out what would happen next.

--
Please remember to vote if you liked this chapter!

It's 2am right now (please excuse any error as my eyes are currently on fire) and I just wrote all of this in a hour, the inspiration struck and I rolled with it. Did you guys feel Becca's pain? Feel Brett's regret? And, most importantly, what's in store for #Brecca? COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT & TELL ME EVERYTHING YOU THOUGHT!!

Don't hate me yet! I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve ;) Goodnight! xo,  Alex.

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net