Chapter 1: Bar

The tequila burned a path down my throat, a fiery echo of the betrayal that had ripped through my heart just hours before.

I sat at the bar, the sticky wood cool against my clammy palms, watching the world blur through a haze of alcohol and tears. The laughter of the patrons sounded hollow, a cruel mockery of the shattered pieces of my life.

My best friend, the one person I'd confided in, the one who knew all my secrets and held my hand through every heartbreak, had stabbed me in the back, and my boyfriend, the man I'd loved with every fiber of my being, had willingly taken the knife.

The betrayal was a double-edged sword, cutting me open from both sides. Each sip of tequila was a desperate attempt to dull the pain, to numb the ache that pulsed in my chest like a trapped bird. But the alcohol only offered temporary relief, leaving me with the bitter aftertaste of my shattered trust and a growing sense of despair.

I was drowning in a sea of hurt, surrounded by strangers who couldn't possibly understand the depth of my pain. All I could do was watch the world spin, hoping that somehow, someway, I could find my way back to the shore.

Am I not that enough for him? I have everything. Everything. I'm smart. I'm rich, I can sing, dance, act, and most of all, I gave him my time. I sacrifice just for him, and now, why? Why did he pick my best friend over me! Tears over flowing through my eyes. I clench my fist on the counter table of the bar.

I drank the last bottle of tequila that I ordered. Now, I want more. 

 I was suddenly interrupted by someone. I looked over to see a boy, who appeared to be a few years older than me, perhaps in his early to mid-twenties. He had a confident stance and a determined look in his eyes as he approached me.

At first, I was taken aback by his interruption. I had been looking forward to savoring a bottle of top-shelf tequila, and now this stranger was trying to stop me. But as he drew closer, I could see that he seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being.

"Hey, miss, I don't mean to intrude," he said, "but I couldn't help but notice that you're about to order a bottle of tequila. I just wanted to make sure you're aware of the risks."

I was taken aback by his words. I had been out at the bar before and had ordered tequila many times without any issues. But as he went on to explain the dangers of excessive drinking and the negative effects it can have on one's health, I began to see his point.

But who cares? "So? Do someone give damn f*ck about it?" I glared at him. Anger was fuming out of me. 

I sigh. Then signal the bartender to get me a new bottle of tequila. 

His words, though meant with kindness, felt like nails hammered into the coffin of my self-control. "I'm fine," I mumbled, pushing him away with a wave of my hand that missed its mark, spilling a bit of my drink on the bar.

"Now if you excuse me, I have a lot of bottle to drink." my voice a slurred, defiant whisper.

I fumbled for another shot, my hand shaking as I tried to grab the glass. Before I could reach it, a hand clamped down on my wrist, its grip surprisingly strong. "Stop now, miss, you're very drunk," a voice boomed, its deep timbre cutting through the cacophony of the bar. The tone was cold, laced with concern, but the words felt like a slap across my face.

I tried to pull away, my frustration simmering, but his grip tightened. The man's hand was large, his fingers like steel bars around my wrist. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, a stark contrast to the icy chill in his voice. He was tall, his shadow looming over me, and I could smell the faint scent of tobacco and something else, something masculine and unfamiliar.

He was a stranger, but he was trying to help, and for some reason, that made me angrier than his interference. I glared up at him, my anger fueled by the alcohol coursing through my veins, and I wanted to lash out, to tell him to mind his own business. 

"Stop getting in my way!" I shouted at him. My vision gets even more blurrier. 

The world dissolved into an inky blackness, a sudden, terrifying plunge into nothingness. Time seemed to stretch and warp, the silence a suffocating blanket. Then, a hazy, blurry night settled in, a canvas of swirling darkness punctuated by the occasional flicker of light. I was lost, adrift in a sea of confusion, unable to grasp what had transpired.

When consciousness finally returned, it was to a dimly lit room, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and something else, something unfamiliar. I sat up, my head throbbing, my vision still blurry. I was alone. Panic clawed at my throat as I looked around the sterile white room, its walls adorned with a single, uninspiring picture.

My heart pounded against my ribs, a frantic drum solo echoing the rising tide of fear. Then, I saw it. Under the thin cotton blanket, a stark, undeniable truth: my naked body. The realization hit me like a physical blow, leaving me breathless and bewildered.

What had happened? Where was I? And why was I here, stripped bare and alone, with no memory of how I got there?

The questions spun in my mind, each one a sharp, jagged edge slicing through the fog of confusion, leaving me raw and vulnerable.

"Fuck!" I shouted, scratching the back of my head. Did I lost my virginity to a stranger? What the hell... I could only remember.. someone. Tall guy? What?! Ugh?!!! I dont know what to do. 

 The door creaked open, and a figure emerged, silhouetted against the morning light. 

"Him?!"