Chapter 2: Gone to Hell

When the first ray of the sun hit my eyes, I scooted over. When it hit me again, I scooted back into the wall. The next time I rolled over and faced the wall. Why didn’t I close the shades last night? Hell. I wasn’t even sure how I got to bed. I was so drunk. And now I was so hung over.

I hugged the wall and tried to find a cool spot on my pillow to lay my head. You’d think in a hotel this expensive the bed would be a little farther from the wall so you could walk around it. The thought of walking made my stomach turn. If I could stand up, I could make it to the bathroom. I rolled toward the other edge of the narrow bed and nearly fell out before I got my feet under me. The room spun and I lurched out into the hall to get to the bathroom.

I felt better after I puked. I started the shower running and finally turned to face myself in the mirror. Well, I was a little worse for wear. Last night had been ... well, I didn’t really remember much. I had slightly dark circles beneath my eyes, but they’d go away. There was something about my reflection in the mirror. For the first time in years, it matched the way I thought about myself. Unless I was actually looking in a mirror, I felt ageless. I still thought of myself as a seventeen-year-old but was trapped in a fat, aging body that didn’t get out much. But the crows’ feet that reminded me of my age on most mornings were gone. Smooth. Skin without a blemish. Dark blue eyes that saw clearly, even through the hung-over haze.