Post by schuyler cayla volkov on Aug 5, 2010 0:12:26 GMT -5
For most of her life, Schuyler had been drinking on the sly. It was normal for her to have to sneak away to get a drink. It wasn't like she could ever let her family know that she'd been drinking since she was 13, or that she'd been sneaking her dad's vodka since she was 15. Eventually, drinking by herself had gotten boring. Ever since The Guy (that's what she called him in her mind) had given her her first taste of Rum and Coke, she'd liked the way alcohol made her feel. But she'd been too afraid to drink with anyone else, afraid that others would judge her based on what she was having. When she'd turned 16, she'd found a couple layabout bums at her high school to drink with. They would sneak out to the back of the gym where no one ever came and pass around a bottle of Jack Daniels. Eventually, the drinking lead to partying, leading to a nasty incident that had landed one of her friends in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. She'd stopped drinking with people for a while, to keep a low profile, and thanked her lucky stars that no one had found out she'd been with him at the time.
It wasn't until she turned 18 that she'd found out about the existence of The Afterlife. Of course, they wouldn't let her in by herself. They didn't believe her bullshit that she was actually 21, that she was older than she looked. So she'd found some "friends" who were willing to get her in. After a couple months of hanging with them, she'd become a regular. Which was lucky for her, because the place was super exclusive. She'd gotten lucky on the people she'd chosen to get her in. They just happened to be regulars, high paying customers that had a reputation in The Afterlife. She'd lucked out, and had won herself a lifetime membership to one of the hardest clubs to get into.
Now, Shy was 22. Would be 23 in about a week. But the ultra-tight security had stopped checking her ID a long time ago. Just her luck. Shy was like that. Ended up damn lucky a lot of the time. She knew how the systems worked, and learned how to play them. She looked for openings, and prayed to god or whoever that she'd picked the right openings to go through. So far, her luck in that sense had been good.
In other senses, it had been pretty damn awful. Shy liked drinking, loved the buzzes, the giddiness, even the blackouts. They were an escape from the fact that she was failing at life. Ever since she'd started her first job as a diner waitress when she was 19, she'd been completely unable to hold down a job for more than 6 months. She'd get drunk, pass out for a day or two, miss work with no calls, and then just stop coming because she didn't like the job and was bored with it. She'd be fired right away. So she'd clean up for a while, pass on the drinks, and get another job. 6 months later, she would be gone again. On top of that, she was always running home to take care of her sister. At least Shy only was an on-again-off-again almost-alcoholic. Daina, that stupid bitch, was a damn druggie. Stoned or cracked out half the time, she'd end up in bad situations and call Shy, her only line of help. And, like a good big sister, Schuyler would pick her sorry ass up and take her home to let her detox. She'd signed Daina up for rehab twice, watched her go through and come out clean twice, and then end up back in her room sleeping off her latest hit of coke twice. It was getting boring, but she felt obligated. Not much she could do about that, and it was better than turning Daina over to their dad, who would beat the drugs out of her, even though he was over 50.
As Shy walked past the bruiser of a guy carefully guarding the door to The Afterlife, she thought over the shitty situation her life had turned into. Why couldn't she have ended up like her brother Erik, who was such a fuckin' perfectionist that he'd aced high school and was lined up for the pre-law program at Harvard this month? Oh, right. 'Cause she wasn't an anal-retentive, self-absorbed, egotistical dick. Nope, she was just an almost alcoholic. Skimming over the surface of life, hoping that something would pull her out. It was hell on earth, but she was powerless to stop it.
Shy retreated to her usual loner table in the corner of the club farthest from the door. It was a good people watching spot, and the people watching here was interesting. People were always breaking out in fights and getting their asses kicked out the door. Couples did things in dark corners that Schuyler had only experienced once in her life. And she had a prime seat to see it all. The spawn of the earth, the scum that had nothing better to do with themselves than come here and drown their sorrows and ease their tensions. She felt pretty good about herself when compared to them. All she did was sit, drink, and pass out. The bouncers were used to it, and were familiar enough with her that they knew what address to send her taxi to. Usually, she'd manage to wake up long enough to get up to her apartment before crashing. Once, though, she'd crashed on the sidewalk and the driver had left her there. She'd stayed ther, passed out, until a cop came and fixed her up with a spot in the PD holding cells for the night. Fun fun.
And definitely not an experience she was planning on having tonight. Nope, she was just here for a couple drinks and some people watching, then heading home hopefully inebriated enough to get a full night's sleep. Shy sat there, wondering what to order first. Maybe a vodka. Yeah, that sounded good.
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TAG OPEN
WORDS 1,028 (I'm an overachiever
NOTES Woo hoo. Drunk girl. Yay!
TUNES fashion zombies , aquabats
CREDIT template by MUNZTAR * of caution
