Third To Die. Carys Jones
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rarely drank. After she’d downed the third shot Rhonda had bought her, she began to feel like she was floating and that the whole world had tilted on its axis. Dreamily she manoeuvred herself on to the dance floor where the rest of the evening became a blur of neon lights and pounding melodies which encouraged her body to move at a frenzied pace.
Somehow Brandy made it back to her apartment. She didn’t remember Rhonda struggling to place her in a cab, or how the driver insisted that if she threw up he’d kick her out. She didn’t remember anything until she woke up face down on her bed, atop all of the covers and still wearing her outfit from the night before.
The sun burned brightly through her windows. Having been too drunk to close her curtains, it seared across the bed and caused Brandy to wince and move. As she rolled over she felt almost blinded by its brilliance.
“Owww,” she shielded her eyes and groggily sat up. The room spun slightly but then settled. Brandy raised a hand to her head which felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool balls as she slept.
“Owww,” she moaned again as she pushed herself off the bed and headed for her main living area where she poured herself a glass of water which she downed in one. Her throat felt brittle and dry, as if she had been eating sandpaper all evening.
The water helped the sensation, but only a little. Everything ached. Brandy already wanted to go back to bed and sleep away the discomfort. She was about to turn back around and return to her room when she noticed the display on her answering machine was flashing with the number one. Her heart froze in her chest and for a prolonged moment she stared at it in disbelief. Then she pressed play and stood and listened to her solitary message.
“Brandy, it’s me, Aiden. I know I should have called sooner but…I’m sorry. I can’t, I won’t be coming to Chicago. Things here in Avalon are…complicated. I’m sorry, Brandy. Truly I am. Please don’t hate me.”
Brandy played the message three more times. After the third round of apologies, she firmly pressed the delete button and retreated back to her bedroom, taking care to close her curtains and seal herself off from the world outside.
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