![]() ![]() ![]() I cup my hands beneath the stream of water and bring them up to my eyes, rinsing them over and over until the burn starts to subside. I’m pretty sure I hear a girl screaming, but that very well could be me screaming. I find the doorknob and swing the door open, rushing straight to the sink. I can’t find my shorts- God, it hurts so bad-so I stumble my way to the bathroom in order to wash the pepper juice from my eyes and hands. It’s the oldest prank in the book, and I can’t believe I fell for it. I stand up and attempt to open my eyes, but they’re stinging too badly for them to be of any use. When my fingers meet my eyes, for a split second I think maybe my worst fears have come true and I’m actually burning in hell, because SHIT! Motherfucker! I’m going to kill him! I stretch my arms, bring my hands to my eyes, and begin rubbing the sleep out of them. It works for now, but God, I hate mornings. At least Ridge lets my sporadic rent checks slide in exchange for my managing his band. I hate that I have to keep this shitty barista job just to pay for school. I reach over and stop the alarm, dreading another day at work. I can’t even live with it for five seconds. Which is why I’ll never murder anyone, because there’s no way I can live with this sound for eternity. I’m convinced that hell has an intercom system and the buzz of my alarm clock is played at full volume on repeat against the screams of all the lost souls. ![]()
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