chapter 7

Four weeks earlier

 A local club, we told my parents, but really it was a massive rave.  You know the kind where the booze, drugs and sex with unknowns are in abundance.  Especially if they’re hot strangers.  The rave was at Sam’s house.  Sam is one of those guys who can talk a fairy into giving him a blow job. And let her think it was all her idea.  Yeah, a manipulative, sneaky bastard, but he is our bastard friend.  We didn’t get high often, but the three of us had been working our collective asses off to finish our degrees.

Finally.  No.  More. Classes.  We wanted to party, so we popped a round blue crystal pill, drank a few cocktails and four hours later, our high dissipated along with my underwear.  Yeah, you read that right, my panties.  So I shagged a guy in the bathroom.  No.  Big.  Deal.  One thing better than a crystal high is the wreckage of my body feels after an impressive orgasm.  I love it when my brain floods with opioids.  It’s like giving my body a reward for engaging in vigorous activity.  Especially one given by a stranger who agreed to cover both heads (you know, the one attached to his neck and the other further south) while pounding me from behind.   I didn’t want images of his face the next day.  Rancid I know but hey, I didn’t believe in wallowing in next day shoulda, woulda, coulda’s.  Besides, it’s my body and if I want it to feel pleasure, I damn well will.  Tremendous bonus apart from his huge *cough* member is, he didn’t complain about my request.

We left the party around 2am and caught an Uber home. 

"What, what? Who is it?" Oreo whispered, her voice worried. She swung her head around, looking to see who or what we were hiding from.

“Oh my god, I want to pee so bad!” Isabell squealed out.  She started squirming, looking uncomfortable and squeezing her thighs together while her already short skirt had ridden up her legs, exposing her g-stringed ass.

“Hey bitches! Shut the fuck up! We’re nearly at my house.”  I grumbled in an indistinct voice. “You whore’s know my parents aren’t privy to my private life.  Fuck, I don’t want to shock them!”  

“Look who’s calling who a whore, bitch. You’re the one who boinked surfer boy in the bathrooms.”

Oreo wriggled her eyebrows and snickered while I buried my face in my palms. I will not live this one down.  After a bit, I dropped my hands to my side, my face looking fierce and no longer embarrassed as I spat out my next words.

“Will you shut up! OMG you’ll wake up the freaking neighbourhood with your big mouth Reo!”

The three of us stared at each other and started laughing all over again.  It’s true, my girls and I are a mess, but they’re my mess and I’m theirs.  We’d been besties since we were four-years-old and I punched a boy in the face at kindergarten for teasing Isabell about her small size.  The teachers didn’t take too kindly to me using physical violence but Oreo, wow what a feisty girl she was, even back then.  She kept telling the teachers it wasn’t my fault, and the boy was bullying quiet little Isabell.  Naturally the teachers didn’t believe Oreo, or me and told our parents those exact words when they attended a parent conference.  My parents listened to the teachers’ explanation. When they asked for our side of the story, they were not happy. And they did not mince words when telling the teachers off.  See, that’s my parents.  Direct and blunt, no matter who you are.

After that the teachers labelled me a troublemaker while they called Oreo, the troublemaker’s sidekick.  Isabell, well the teachers said nothing about her, but the three of us had become fast friends by then.

Since that day, when one of us got into trouble, the other two were in deep shit too.  We’re tight and best friends for life.  But out of all our parents, my bff’s agreed that my parents were the scariest.  I knew my parents would accept my lifestyle, but I didn’t want to disappoint them.  They were good to me, the best, and I just can’t explain why I insisted on trying to be a dutiful girl for them, even though I was regularly in trouble.  I just felt they had unspoken expectations of me, like any parent would. I recall once asking them if they found me in a basket on the doorstep, cos I looked and acted nothing like them.  Those words would come back to bite me on the ass one day, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Anyway, there we were, crouching behind a bush at the end of my driveway.  We were sobering up as the chilly air seems to do for three alcohol addled heads. 

I looked at my besties, and they both grinned, heads nodded in agreement.  In a conga line, one after the other, we sneaked around the back, following the pathway, and avoiding the security lights outside my parent’s bedroom.  Want to wake the ‘rents? Well, make the lights flicker on and off bitches.

We made it to my bedroom window, and I pulled out a small lever I carry in my purse.  I jimmied the window up, trying to be as quiet as possible.  Climbing into my room was easy. I’d always made a point of clearing the area beside the window and leaving my beanbag couch there.  It gave us a nice soft landing once we were over the sill. I went first, then helped Isabell and Oreo to get in.  We’d done this a hundred times, but still we didn’t want my parents to catch us, so we were always cautious.

After closing the window, I ducked into my en-suite and turned the shower on, so we could clean ourselves up.  Isabell pushed past me and rushed to the toilet, her g-string panties halfway down her thighs.  Once my girl finished, we took turns in the shower, which was steaming up the compact space.  We washed the alcohol odour off us, and we also washed our hair. It stunk of cigarettes.  Blech, I’m not a fan of smoking and neither are my girls.  It doesn’t mean we have smoked no weed in our twenty-one-years of life, cos we have.  Plenty of times. It’s all part of teen experimentation, you know?

Getting the make-up off always took longer, but we scrubbed our faces clean, brushed the post vomit breath from our mouths, cos when you drink as much as we did, it’s bound to regurgitate and stick to your teeth. Gross, yeah.

I slipped into my favourite long cotton pyjama bottoms, the rose gold ones with tiny crescent moons on them and a t-shirt.  It was so good to put on clothing that had a fresh linen smell. My girls found themselves a set of pyjamas too, from somewhere in my closet.  We have always shared clothing over the years.  Before we dived into my king-size bed, we decided we needed water to rehydrate and bypass the hangover.  I know our skin and bodies would thank us for it later.

I opened my bedroom door and tiptoed down the wide passageway and into the kitchen.  I’d been walking around this house all my life, so I had no trouble navigating the kitchen in the dark.

“Ouch! Oh, shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck!!”

I muttered in an inaudible voice and jumped on the spot, my sore foot raised off the floor. I quickly opened the fridge to let its light small light beam through the dark kitchen. I wanted to check under the sole. I stood on something and it bloody hurt!

With one hand on the fridge door and the other holding my foot, I hopped closer to the fridge light. Inspecting the under surface of my foot, there was no blood but I could see an indent and ran my finger over it. Sure enough, I felt pain after a brief pressure, so I took my finger off it, and started surveying the floor.   I opened the fridge wider so its light could expel more of the dark and saw the fridge magnets scattered over the kitchen tiles.

“What the hell?”

 I used my foot to sweep the magnets together and found pens and notepads stuck under the rim between the cupboard and the floor.  This was not like my parents.  They were meticulous people. By this time, my eyes had adjusted to the semidarkness, and I glanced around the kitchen and into the shadowy dining room.  The curtains in the dining area were still open! Huh? That’s not right. So I carefully walked on my toes, navigating around the kitchen island until my toes hit carpet. Yes! I could finally put my entire foot down.

That’s when I stumbled over a chair.

I somehow managed not to squeal after my near face plant on the carpet.  There I am on all fours, huffing out loud. I rotate my body around just to sit on my ass.  Then I swiped the fabric of my pyjama pants up, held my shin and rubbed it.  It’s throbbing and I keep massaging my leg, like that would take the pain away.  I roll my eyes up to the black ceiling and pause, cos by this time I’m getting pissed off.  In the back of my mind I know this is unusual and my half sober brain is having problems processing past my injuries.

"What’s taking you so long Lil and what’s that bloody noise? We can hear you from the bedroom.  It sounds like an elephant walking around!”

I raise my head and see my two besties in silhouette, standing at the kitchen door peering in.  With the fridge door still open, they were looking towards the light, expecting to see me there.

“I’m down here Reo! No, here. Dining room!”

I talk in a low yet pained voice and their eyes whip around to where they think my voice is.  I know they can hear me hissing cos I’ve given up trying to be quiet.  My parents will be up soon cos I made a racket from falling over.  As usual, Oreo is the first to ask in a loud whisper.

“What are you doing down there? What’s going on?”

Feeling grumpy, I reply, “turn the light on!” Eek, that came out harsh.

“What, why? What about your parents?”

I blow out an irritated sigh. 

“It’s too late for that.” 

I was feeling piqued.

“I’m sure they heard me too, so turn the freaking light on!”

Moments like this and I wish dad had installed the motion sensor lights in here.  

With Isabell being the closest to the light switch, she placed her fingers on the wall and flicked it up.  Now that the lights are on, they’re so damn bright.  I blinked and squinted my eyes, giving them time to adjust.  I lift my eyelids and looked around.  The dining room is a disaster zone and so was the kitchen. How the heck did I avoid all the debris scattered everywhere?  

Yet somehow the scene didn’t quite register.

“Can you help me up? Please?”

I was whining, and I knew it, but my shin still hurt. I added a pout to my lips for effectiveness and hoped they saw it.  Once I lifted my eyes to my besties face, I saw expressions of alarm all over their countenance and Oreo’s voice went up a cadence when she spoke.

“What the hell happened here?”

Oreo and Isabell walked in the kitchen.  Their eyes roving in all directions and their movements becoming hesitant.

“It looks like someone wrecked the place.”

Still, they kept stepping into the dining room.  Then a soft voice spoke, one that belonged to sweet Isabell, the only one of us who spoke when necessary.

“Your parents Lil, where are they?”

My mind was having problems assessing the situation, but her words cut through the din.

“What do you mean Bell?”

By this time they both reached me and Oreo helped me to stand.  I winced as my foot connected to the ground.  It seems standing on it, jarred it a little. Bell didn’t answer, so I asked her again.

“Bell, what do you mean?”

Nothing. No response.  My voice got louder and more insistent as I repeated the question.

“Isabell! What are talking about?”

My eyes followed Isabell as she ignored me and walked past the both of us until she disappeared around the corner. The chandelier lit up the entire area as the light for the lounge came on.  Our house being open-plan meant our main living areas were all in the same vicinity.  I heard her gasp out loud, so I limped around the dining area until Isabell came into view.  She was standing there with her hands covering her mouth and a terrified expression on her face.  Oreo and I looked in the direction of her eyes and what I saw next, I will never forget.

In the middle of the lounge were both my parents, each tied to a chair.  I froze on the spot.  I couldn’t move, but I vaguely remember Oreo’s words.

“I’ll call the police.” 

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