Home > Flash Fiction, Horror, Random > Back in the saddle

Back in the saddle

Meaning that this story isn’t sad.

L. E. White

A Night to Forget

Kaitlin sat cross legged on the bed. She had her head down so that her chin was on her chest. Long blonde hair hung down to brush against her bare thighs. Every few seconds, and tear would fall from her nose to land on her crossed ankles.

“You know he isn’t worth crying over,” Charity said. She was sitting on Kaitlin’s pillows, leaning back against the wall. “He is a prick and he treated you like shit. You are better off without him.”

“Then why does it hurt so much?”

“Because you really liked him.”

“How could he just dump me like this? After all we’ve been through and all I’ve done for him.”

“Again, that would be because he’s a prick.”

“Aren’t you supposed to say something to make me feel better?”

“Yeah,” Charity said. “And I did that a while ago. Now we have moved on to the waiting on you to get over it enough to go out and get all the way over him part.”

Kaitlin lifted her chin enough to lock red rimmed eyes on her cousin. “I don’t think that is going to help.”

“You won’t know until you try,” Charity said. “Besides, you can’t say you have ever felt worse after going out.”

***

Kaitlin blinked, snarling at the bright light which made her feel like tiny knives were being shoved into her eyes. She shifted, feeling knots in her back. It felt like she was lying on the floor, but she couldn’t remember.

Her head was thumping, and she remembered Charity saying something about never feeling worse after going out.

“Yeah right,” she mumbled, fighting to sit up without falling back over.

She turned her face away from the light and took a long time to open her eyes. Her skin was sticky and she could taste vomit in her mouth.

Her stomach clenched, and Kaitlin fought to keep from vomiting. She won the fight, but she didn’t know how long she would be able to keep doing it.

She focused on the floor, and wondered what the sticky red syrup was. She whispered, “Oh God,” when she realized that she was naked. She was covered in red, and wondered what sick pervert she had hooked up with the night before. Having drunken sex with a stranger was bad, but having drunken sex while covered in strawberry syrup had to be worse.

She looked around more, and started to hyperventilate when she saw the foot that was lying on the floor beside her.

She realized that it wasn’t her foot and that she wasn’t covered in strawberry syrup at about the same time. Then, she started screaming.

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