You wouldn't believe the ceilings I've seen...

She didn't open her eyes.  Laying there, she started her self check. Her brain was a little foggy, her memory hazy.  Headache....yup, usually a given these days with all the booze she consumed on a daily basis.  Deep breath-oh yea, that wheeze meant she probably smoked two packs of cigarettes the night before. The sinus pain which probably meant she did alot more than just drink the night before.  A careful little stretch and she knew it must have been an interesting night.  Her body was sore, that kind of sore which meant that she probably fell at least once and that the sex had been....well, enthusiastic?  She opened her eyes.....dammit, that was definitely NOT her ceiling.  Obviously another blackout night.  Hopefully she was in friendly territory.  Her contacts were dry, she kept blinking to try and clear her vision.  She carefully rolled over and looked to her right....ok she recognized that face.  Paul.  Tim's long haired friend, the one who thinks he belongs in Hollywood.  Ok, not so bad.  Then she realized there was someone to her left.  Slowly rolling in the other direction she saw Ron? Rick? something like that.  Gross.  He was a little troll like thing that hung out with Paul and Tim and all those guys.  She REALLY must have been fucked up because never in her right mind would she have slept with that one.  She silently made herself that same promise.  She would never get so fucked up that she would end up in a situation like this again.  Not that it would do much good.  Empty promises.  Maybe she could sneak out without anyone noticing.  Kind of tough with one guy on each side of you, fuck it, she'd just find her clothes and go home.  Hopefully her car was here and she wouldn't need one of these two to give her a ride or god forbid have to call someone. Especially considering she had no idea where she was.  The guys were both awake now, Paul getting up to go to the bathroom, not without stopping to check himself out in the mirror, she had slept with him before and knew this odd habit of his.  Yes he was good looking, but the self checking and hair flipping in the mirror made him seem very feminine.  His good looks boosted her self esteem. She must be special if this hot guy wanted to have sex with her.  And she must be good since it had happened on several occasions.  At least that's what she told herself.   That and the fact that he was about 10 years older than she was.  But he always had cocaine and was usually fun to party with.  And the sex was pretty good.  There was always that.  The guys seemed a little uncomfortable, she had no idea what had actually transpired the night before and to be honest,  really didn't want to know.  She just wanted her

clothes and to go home and shower and recover.  These mornings were becoming more frequent, the waking up and not being home, not quite remembering where she was, how she got there, sometimes who she was with....was happening more and more frequently.  Some mornings were worse than others, at least today she actually KNEW the two guys she had gone home with, because that definitely wasn't always the case. And she wasn't in too much pain, which again was a good thing.  She had been lucky so far.  But eventually her luck would run out.  Not wanting to think about all that, she got up, managed to find all of her clothes and since she found out her car was at the bar they were all at the night before, nicely asked the guys if one of them would drop her off.  She really needed a shower.  And maybe some food..and then she would probably head out and start this process all over again. It was a never ending cycle. the depression, the drinking so she could  break out of her shell, which led to the drugs and more drinking and the blackouts and the men and the sex.  Then came the guilt, more depression and more drinking to try and forget it all...someday...maybe someday...things would be different.