Okay, I've been asked quite a few times if there'll be more chapters of "Hayley's Party" and the short answer is "Yes." The long answer is, I started Hayley off as just a single short story (based of off "Miaw: Life of the Party" for those that weren't around at the start) and I hadn't envisaged continuing it. In the rewrite, it kind of grew on me and a "sort of" plot evolved in my head but the story as it stands doesn't quite fit how the overarching plot has evolved in my head. So while I'm continuing, there's going to be some discontinuity and anomalies here and there as it moves ahead. I'll do my best to explain these without screwing the story and I'll probably go back and insert a rewritten Prologue at some stage. Keep on thinking of it as "Working First Draft" and we're all good. I want to turn this one into a novel when I get a bit better at this writing thing, but the novel I have in mind is a little bit different from how it's written so far. Anyhow, enough waffling, on with the story...
And if you haven't read the earlier chapters, I'd recommend doing that first...
Hayley's Party Ch. 06 β They Say You Got a Broken Heart
Who needs friends who never show
I'll tell you what you want to know
I could have saved a broken heart
If I'd found out long ago
I'm just thinking about those lonely nights
(I'm just thinking about when I waited)
When I waited for your call
'Til I found out all my friends were right
I didn't know you at all
I heard a rumour, ooh, ooh, I heard a rumour
They say you got a broken heart
I Heard a Rumor (Bananarama)
It was my phone ringing that woke me up. I felt awful. It was like one of those clichΓ©d scenes in a movie. The morning after. Except that this was real and my head hurt like fuck. My body felt like I'd been in a real fight. I felt worse than I had after that last tournament I'd fought in when that six foot she-bitch from Michigan had hammered me. This was worse than after one of Master Kim's all day training sessions. My mouth was dry; sandpaper, swollen tongue, rats must have peed in my mouth dry. But it was my head that was killing me. Jackhammers going off inside my skull pain! Dammit! I so should NOT have touched that Jack Daniels. A couple of shots were enough to give me a mild headache the next morning. I knew that. And still I'd drunk way more than that. Now I was paying the piper. To say I felt awful was a tepid understatement of how I felt. I felt like shit!
It didn't help at all that I'd forgotten nothing about the previous evening. Thinking about Steve, I felt the tears start to leak from my tightly closed eyes. How could he? How could he have ever thought about me like that? Just thinking about it made my head spin. It was hard to stop thinking about him, but it just upset me so much. I was angry as well! Angry and upset with Steve! Angry that I'd taken it out on those Somali assholes! Jesus, that made me feel even worse! I'd really kicked them hard. I hadn't pulled any of those kicks. I mean, they had it coming, the assholes, but what if the police got involved? They were bound to. I'd felt bones breaking when I kicked them. Shit!
Thinking about Joe and Barry and what the three of us had done made my head spin too. THAT I did not regret even now but Jesus, when I thought about what we'd done, I realized I must have been REALLY drunk. There was no way I'd have done what I had done so willingly with Joe and Barry if I hadn't been drunk. Shit! Shit! Shit! I'd been fucked twice by Joe now, if you counted the party as once although it had been multiple times, and each of those two nights it had been with Joe and another guy. And last night! For god's sake! Last night I'd fucked three guys. I didn't exactly feel ashamed about that but I didn't feel like running around telling everyone either.
I mean, three weeks ago I'd been totally in love with Steve, intending to give myself to him. But that had been a romantic dream. A dream that had been shattered and broken! Steve might have loved me, but he didn't love me the way that I wanted to be loved. What he'd wanted from me was what I'd gone and done with Joe and Barry last night after I'd walked out on Steve. I'd loved Steve but it hurt so much to know what he'd wanted. What he'd done.
Oh fuck fuck fuck my life was so fucked up!
I was as confused and mixed up as I had been last night.
And my head still felt as if I had nails stuck through my eyeballs.
I just wanted to die!
And that damn phone was still buzzing. That buzz echoed around inside my head like a giant wasp in my ear. I wanted to turn it off but there was no way I was moving. If I moved, I was going to throw up. And my head! Oh my poor head!
Willing myself dead didn't work. The pain just went on and on! I knew it was Sunday morning β the sunlight brutally forcing its way through my closed eyelids was a giveaway. I hadn't been so hammered that I didn't know what day it was. Sunday meant ten a.m. Mass and I was scheduled as an Altar Girl this morning. Fuck fuck fuck and fuck again! Sheer will power forced my eyes to open but Jesus Christ that sunlight hurt so much I closed them again!
But only after I risked my carpet and checked the time. Eight oh five. Dear God, I so wanted to just close my eyes and lose consciousness. My head! My fucking head! But at least my phone had stopped ringing.
Someone tapped on my bedroom door. That hurt even worse! I couldn't even whimper! I was so fucked! There was that tap on the door again. God! Go away! Leave me to die! Please!
The door opened slowly. Mom peered in, my step-mom that is, Rachel. She was only fifteen years older than me. I don't know why Dad had married her. I mean, she was gorgeous to look at, but she was nowhere near as smart as my Dad. Or me. And she was a bit of a bitch. But she knew how to party. I called her my Mom because she got upset with me if I didn't. When she was upset, she got bitchy and mean. But inside my head she was always Rachel. Mom was Mom, but she'd died when I was five.
Rachel looked at me and shook her head. She came in. She never did that unless I was sick. She was holding a large glass of water. Very large!
"Here you are Hayley." She gently placed the water and a packet of Extra Strength Tylenols on my bedside stand. "When I saw you come in last night, I thought you might need these in the morning." Her voice was a whisper but Jesus, she sounded like she'd won a bet with herself.
I tried to speak but my mouth was far too dry. My heart sank. What did Rachel know about last night? She actually giggled.
"Hayley, Hayley, Hayley, been there and done that, I'm not asking what you got up to so don't look so worried. Just take it from me, drink lots of water, take a couple of Tylenols and you'll feel a lot better in half an hour, okay?"
I nodded, then winced as the movement sent bolts of pain lancing through my skull. My eyes actually watered. It was that bad! Thanks Rachel. But how had she known? What else did Rachel know? What did Dad know?