That Night

Colorful lights flashing down my head, face and body. The scented-sweat of dancing people. Locks of my burgundy hair brushing against my shoulder blades with every move. That new dress hugging my figure as seducingly as possible. Stream of cold liquid with a hint of bitterness burning down my throat. Carrying my head up - with a sloppy grin on my face - and forgetting reality.

Flashback of distant memories.

Is this what they call as withdrawal symptoms?

It's been exactly twenty days, 22 hours and 36 minutes since I drank alcohol or even stepped into any place that serves alcohol. A promise I made to myself, a challenge. It helps me to stay sane.

I stare at those pearls around my neck, perfectly laid atop my protruding collarbone. Below that, my waist-hugging black dress, the one sleeve on my right side reaching down to the wrist.

Surprisingly, everything above my neck is still intact - red lipstick not smeared or faded, neat winged-liner, lined brows. But I still add another layer of concealer under my eyes, cheekbones and sides of my neck - wounds are difficult to hide. I chuck the tube into my bag and go back to staring at my oily face when the blasting music sneaks into the washroom.

Someone's coming in. My heartbeat goes wild.

I immediately pretend like adjusting my hair - tugging at the waves below and arranging my bangs. The door sways shut and I watch through the mirror's reflection.

Relieved, I realize it's a girl, probably in her late-twenties sways a few times before locking herself into one of the toilet stalls. She doesn't even notice my presence.

The flashback come in.

"Stop. Stop." I whisper to myself. Surprisingly, it works.

"You're definitely drinking." Leah's hands are on her hips like a mother scolding her toddler but in a club.

"Remember I signed up for Dry January, dude?." I give her the brightest grin as possible.

She rolls her eyes in annoyance. "Such a party pooper on my birthday." but doesn't push me further.

I take a seat near Leah and watch them go wild. Towers of drinks, flaming alcohol, beers. Every drink reminds me of it's taste. My tongue caressing my lips as if I just saw something delicious to eat. It's just alcohol, I told myself.

"Hey!" one of the guys walks to me. A stranger. Probably a mutual friend but a reflexive smile forms on my face - he looks cute. "Are you on Dry January?"

I frown. "Dry what?" I ask, my voice a tad bit higher for him to hear me.

He gestures for me to wait and pulls out his phone. Seems quite sober to me despite the empty glass in his other hand. He types it in and shows the screen to me.

Dry January.

I fish out my phone this time and type. "A challenge where you avoid alcohol for the whole month? Yeah, I'm doing it this year."

He types. "SAME!" the capitals make me smile.

But again, I frown suspiciously and look at the glass he's holding. He grins types in his phone again. "I was kidding. On the rocks?"

Typed. "Like I said, I'm a challenge to not drink."

He frowns in curiosity this time. "But why?"

"Oh shit, I'm too drunk."

"Where are we?"

"It'll only take a while."

Someone touches my exposed arm, my skin. I flinch and move backwards, my waist hitting another table behind. Leah - as always - comes to my rescue.

Everything starts closing in and..."I can't breathe." the words are scrambled but Leah somehow comprehends it despite downing almost a whole bottle of alcohol.

We are out within seconds. The music buried behind closed doors. Fresh outside air mixed up with our scent and the smell of booze. Heart thumping against my chest. Feels like I'm drowning in my own blood. Veins strangling me with it's hands.

The same feeling I had that night.

I'm so zoned out that it takes some times to realize that Leah is shaking me, panicked. "What's wrong?!" she almost screams. I inhale and exhale deeply.

I walk a few feet away from her, calming myself down. She allows me to do so. Once everything returned to normal, I walk back to her and gesture to head back inside.

She shakes her head. "You're hiding something."

"I'm just avoiding men since the breakup."

"Breakup? Dude, you flinched and jolted away like a scared kid when that guy just tapped you out of your stupor. That's 'avoiding' guys?"

I roll my eyes. "That's just a reflexive thing. I zoned out, daydreaming. And his sudden skin to skin contact jolted me."

Leah continues to stare at me with a judgmental expression. "You're lying. You are jolting at men's touch and avoiding alcohol. That's not you."

"It's the Dry January challenge." I shrug.

"Yeah right." she shakes her head in disbelief. "Tell me, honestly, what happened that night of your breakup."

"Leah. I'm not traumatized or anything..." I chuckle.

"Then, spill everything..." She turns to me as if getting prepared to listen to a lengthy storytelling on stage.

"Okay." I breathe in and out. "We went to a club to celebrate his birthday and my drinking experience was quite bad so I'm pausing it for now. It's temporary." I smile at her softly. Leah takes some time to calm down before we both sit by the pavement with our little dresses hiked up uncomfortably. "Then, we had like a drunk argument and we broke-up. I'm quite affected by it though. and I don't think I would like to numb the pain with alcohol."

Leah nods. "He doesn't deserve you at all. I'm sorry I got worked up and suspicious for nothing." She grabs my hand and leans onto my shoulder. "Anyways your boyfriend is a shitty person. Let's find you another guy. Takes a really good night for you to make a good decision."

I smile.

No one needs to know.

That I didn't actually breakup that night.

That I'm still regretting for getting drunk that night.

That I was raped by my boyfriend and his friends that night.