A HORRIBLE DAY TO BE LATE

EMILY'S STANDPOINT 

"Alexander," I whispered, opening my eyes to be met with my familiar ceiling. 

I groaned, sitting up. My head aches badly, I reek of alcohol and my hair looks like it's been in the wind.

What the hell happened yesterday?

I looked around, trying to pinpoint anything that would remind me of yesterday. 

First of all, my eyes landed on a jumpsuit, one which I remember to have gotten from Aimee before she dragged me off to a club. It has an ugly stain on it but I don't remember how it got stained.

"I see, so Aimee and I went to a club," I muttered, pausing as I tried to remember other details. My eyes found the mask on the table beside the bed and I picked it up, touching it.

A migraine hit me that minute and I groaned in pain, flashes of Aimee and I talking and drinking till  a strange man stole her away and she dumped me on some other man.