Eileen O'Neill (bloodyfootsteps) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2015-01-12 01:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-10-11, eileen, emyli |
'cause theres no salvation for a bad girl
Who: Eileen and Emyli
When: Morning (Too damn early!)
Where: Emyli's Eileen's trailer?
Something was stuck to her face. That was the first thought that greeted Eileen as she woke up, followed swiftly by a loud and resounding ‘Ouch’. Her head was killing her and she had to raise her head slowly to keep the world from spinning out of control. She’d drank last night, apparently much more than she had intended if her hangover was any indication. As her eyes slowly fluttered open, Eileen reached up to her cheek to remove whatever it was that was stuck to it. A honeybun wrapper? The confusion laced around that question was strong enough to cause her pulse to pound against her temple. All she wanted to know was where she was and why the hell she hadn’t passed out in bed like a nice normal person. She started cursing under her breath in Gaelic as she stretched the kinks out of her shoulders and started to look around the room. The first thing that caught her attention were the empty bottles of alcohol lined on the table she had passed out on. Well that explains that. But, of course, being drunk was not a suitable excuse for the IV bags full of blood laying next to them. “Fucking Christ,” she muttered as she stood up, sending the chair tipping backward as she threw herself away from the table.
Her hangover forgotten, at least while her panic was in full effect, Eileen’s eyes darted around the rest of the trailer that she could see. From her current vantage point she could see a mop of blonde hair and a body of laying across the length of the couch in the living room. Is she dead? Her stomach turned at the thought. She was certain that if she confirmed that that was a dead body laying in the other room that she would vomit. Hell, she was having problems keeping her stomach settled as it was. “H-hello?” Her voice was weak as she called out to the unmoving body. When it didn’t respond, Eileen cursed once more and resigned herself to investigate. One step out of the kitchen and she saw the rubber band tied weakly around the girl’s upper arm. There was a discarded needle sticking up out of the floor near her limp hand. Losing a bit of her nerve, Eileen skittered back to the kitchen to look for a cellphone. She was not dealing with this. This was not her problem.
There was a bag sitting on the table, marked proudly with an ornate ‘Eileen O’Neill’. Her bag, but it caught her a little off-guard with how expensive it looked. She dug into it nonetheless looking for a cellphone. And that was when she found other needles, ones identical to the other in the living room, only these were capped and held some kind of liquid. Did I give this to her? Eileen was facing too many disturbing questions and being met with not enough answers. And she didn’t like it.
“OY!” She shouted out, startling herself a little with her volume. Still, she pounded her way over to the unconscious girl and started to rustle her. “You better fucking wake up and explain what’s going on here.” It wasn’t the girl’s fault, she knew that, but she was scared and she wasn’t about to go through that alone.