emyli parker is addicted (rudeandcrude) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-08-06 11:55:00 |
|
|||
Ashes fell off the end of her cigarette onto the floor, but she didn't notice them. It wasn't like her trailer wasn't dirty enough on its own. Clothes were strewn about, plastic wrappers littered the floor, and the caps to beer bottles were scattered around and acted like miniature bear traps for bare feet. Sometimes she could admire the people who kept their houses clean and presentable to the outside world. Sometimes. But mostly, Emyli just didn't care one way or the other. She made so much of an effort to be outside and away from her trailer that she sometimes forgot it even existed. But when she was home and forced to sit in the dingy little metal box without any company, that was when everything about it irked her. There was a spare bedroom that she used to store her junk and her bathroom was covered in hair that she shed while brushing and washing it. What bothered her the most about it all was simply that when she was home, she was alone. And when Emyli was alone, she couldn't stand herself. She always thought of her parents and her brothers and what they had been doing without her there. Did they know where she was? It wasn't like she skipped town or anything. Did they miss her? Emyli couldn't handle the sappy and sentimental thoughts that were driving her to drink even more than she had that night. Yes, it was a Monday and yes, she was high off her ass. People shouldn't expect anything less from her. With a bottle of... what was it? Some kind of vodka. She couldn't even remember what brand or flavor -- it just sloshed in her mouth when she turned the bottle up. She kept pouring shots into her mouth and gulping them down as if she was drinking water. Something had to get her mind out of the dumps. She pulled her phone out and started flipping through the contacts before she spotted a name of someone she had not seen in far too long. The texts had started off as being annoying, and considering her current state of mind, it was a wonder that she had managed to spell half as good as she did. While laying on her couch, she tried to slip her bra off from under her shirt, but ended up snapping the strap of it and throwing it onto the floor. Which she then took a picture of and sent to Langston. Now she was stretched out on her couch, one leg draped across the back of it, waiting for Langston to get there. He was always good for a late night phone call. He was also served a great distraction for Emyli's blues. Not that she'd invited him over to listen to her sob story. |