I am zero days purge free.

And I'm very drunk.

Every time one of my friends looks at me I feel the need to grab another drink. I've told them so many lies. The lies that I'm okay. The lies that I'm on track in my recovery.

The more I drink the more I forget that I'm lying to everyone.

I know Warner is getting wary about how much I'm drinking. I wish he would drink just he wouldn't have such a sharp eye when it came to me. If he was drunk then he wouldn't notice how drunk I was. Right?

I'm on my ninth drink when I finally get rid of the feeling of guilt, I have gotten rid of almost all my feelings.

They were still there though because when I go to the club bathroom to pee I take one look in the mirror and I want to burst into tears. The girl looking back at me is the girl my mom described. I don't remember what I look like and I don't want to think about it one second longer.

I hate that girl in the mirror. I hate her so much right now. I hate that she can't be a normal college student. That I can't look in the mirror without breaking down. That I'm lying to everyone I love because I am such a failure.

I scrub my hands raw with a profligate amount of soap, unable to stop the stupid tears dripping down my cheeks.

"Are you okay?" a female voice asks, startling me.

Sniffling, I turn to see a girl step out of the toilet cubicle at the end of the bathroom.

I have been so caught up in my personal breakdown that I didn't realize there was anyone else in here.

"I'm sorry," I mumble. "I didn't know anyone else was in here."

"That's okay, I am only in here because I don't want to share," she announces, shaking a clear baggie in front of her

She is much older than me – and much more beautiful.

Her black hair is cut up in one of those classy bob-style haircuts that all the celebrities are currently sporting and her face is flawless.

She walks over to where I am standing and leans against the sink next to mine.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, yes I'm fine," I quickly deflect. "It's nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing," she muses, light blue eyes locked on mine. "You look like you are about to breakdown."

I shrug, feeling my face flame with embarrassment.

"Bad day?"

More like bad life...

I exhale heavily. "You could say that."

"I have something that might help with that," she replies, holding her baggie out to me.

Sober Juliet would say no.

However whatever is in that bag is going to make me feel a lot better than I am now. So I do what anyone who is going off the deep end does and I accept her offer.

______

After about twenty minutes I can feel the drugs starting to kick in and I feel happy. I just want to dance and touch everyone. I want to kiss Warner. Where is Warner?

"ABBY!" I yell louder than necessary to get her attention.

"Shots?" she asks me, just as drunk as I am. But I'm more than just drunk, and with my new friend's special help I feel ten times better.

I feel amazing.

I knock back the burning bitter liquid in the shot glass and grab Abby's hands to head to the dance floor. I love the song that's playing and it's easy to lose myself dancing with Abby.

Before I know it, I'm caught in the swell of warm, moving bodies on the dance floor, I close my eyes and let loose in the music. I smile, taking sip after sip from my cup. We dance for what feels like hours, I notice Abby draw an admirer to her side and now she is dancing with a cute boy.

But I'm so messed up I can barely see faces. So was she even dancing with a new boy? Or was it Winston? I am too messed up to tell.

It's so nice to just lose myself for a moment, I don't really know where I am anymore. Just that my chest feels warm, and I am enjoying the music.

It's no longer a challenge to not think about Warner or my mom or my relapse. The warmth of the room and the numbness of the drugs and alcohol in my system make it easy to forget everything and just breathe deeply. The more time that goes on the less I care, and I like not caring.

A boy is dancing behind me, grabbing my hips and moving us both to the music. The bass pounds into my ears and into the back of my head, making it hard to think. And that's fine by me. I dance with him, tilting my head back and getting lost in the moment.

"Get your hands off her or I will break every bone in your hand."

The warning uttered in a low, threatening voice forces me to open my eyes and push aside the encompassing haze. Goosebumps break out over my skin and the hair at the back of my neck stands up. Warner's here. Oh God, he's here and he's pissed off.

"What's your problem?" The guy I've been dancing with asks Warner. I turn to Warner who is standing there in a plain grey t-shirt and jeans, looking all brooding and sexy.

"Don't be mean! This is my new friend!" I point to the guy, but I think he has a twin because there are two of him. My eyes feel droopy.

Warner doesn't acknowledge my statement but simply narrows his eyes at me. He then takes a step toward my new friend a bit threateningly and subjects him with a look that would send me running if it was towards me.

"My problem is that you have your hands all over my girl and if you don't step away from her in about five seconds, I am going to stop being so nice."

I look back at the guy or maybe his twin and shoo him away. Warner looks like he might actually break the guy's hand.

He yanks at my wrist, drawing me away from the pulsating crowd. I catch the worried glance of Abby who is now stood next to Winston So maybe it was Winston before? Oh my god, that means I called Winston cute. EW!

Warner pulls me to a quiet corner of the bar and "Why are you acting like this?" he asks.

"Like what? I'm having fun!" I smile and reach out to him and stroke his face because it looks really soft.

"I love that you're having fun, I want you to have fun. But I don't find it very fun to watch my belligerent girlfriend dance with another guy right in front of me. It feels like you are getting drunk to avoid something." He is trying to stay calm, looking at me, struggling to find composure.

"It was a friendly dance! Trust me he is not interested, and neither am I."

He runs his hand through his hair in frustration, looking at me with eyes so open and vulnerable but his jaw is tight, his muscles are tense, and his upper body is heaving from the effort to inhale, and exhale.

"Don't act stupid Juliet. It wasn't a friendly dance. He was taking advantage."

I consider this but I can't really remember if he was touching me or not. I can't even remember what he looks like, and it was only a minute or two ago. The room is blurring at this point, and I just want to dance.

"Why do you look confused?" Warner asks.

"I guess I am just shocked he would even want me because I'm—"

I'm about to say 'because I'm fat' or maybe even disgusting but I trail off when I see the look on Warner's face.

"Finish the fucking sentence, Juliet." He demands glaring at me and I flinch at the aggression in his voice.

I shake my head, trying to protest, "Nothing. Never mind." Stupid drunk Juliet with her big mouth.

"Because you are WHAT?" He asks again advancing on me, his eyes alight with disbelief.

"What were you going to call yourself?" His fingers are balled into fists at his sides, his face a mask of anger.

I am too messed up for this conversation, I stumble backward trying to escape him but he reaches out and holds onto my wrist to prevent me from falling on my ass. Now when I look up Warner has a twin too. God, I hate him and his stupid twin for ruining my one hour of happiness. I was trying to forget about everything and here he was ruining it.

I pull his hand off me and glare back at him. "Leave me alone! I'm trying to have fun and you are ruining it. Go away! And take your twin with you." I nod to his twin and he gives me an exasperated look.

Warner pauses, then lets out a sigh that sounds like disappointment. "We can talk when you're sober. I'll drive you home."

"No!" I shout, running away from him and back to Abby.

____

I try not to vomit while holding the cool sides of the toilet.

I've been here for fifteen minutes now, trying not to retch because Warner is right outside listening to me.

Panting, I brace myself over the bowl, counting each breath. I focus on my breathing – in through my nose, out through my mouth. Over and over.

"JULIET!" The door bangs with an angry sound.

My eyes snap open back to the present moment. The club. I'm in the bathroom, my forehead sweaty.

Warner's voice scares me enough to jump away from the toilet like it zapped me. I hurry and head to the door "Coming!" I tell him.

My cheeks welt in an ugly red. I wash my hands with plenty of soap and peek in the mirror. Besides my flushed face, I look presentable.

And when I turn slightly, I find Warner, leaning on the wall. His arms are crossed and he scrutinizes me with hard, piercing eyes. He gives me a long once-over as if trying to spot the stain of debauchery.

I told him I had to pee before we left but really it was because I knew I was going to vomit and I wouldn't make it home. This wasn't even on purpose, I genuinely just drank too much and mixing it with whatever drugs I took did not help.

I went from feeling on top of the world to feeling like death.

I ignore him and head towards the front door , knowing he'll follow. I'm not surprised when I feel his presence like an annoying, unwanted shadow. When we get to his car, he puts his hand on my shoulder, spinning me around to meet his accusatory eyes, as though I've already fucked up.

"You look sick," he starts off.

"Thank you," I say dryly. "That's the exact look I was going for tonight. Sick." I pause pretending to think. "Unless you mean like I look siiiiiiick in a cool way then thank you."

"I didn't mean it in a cool way." He snaps but I don't say anything else. I can barely stay awake at this point and I feel my eyes droop shut while standing up.

"Jesus Christ." I hear him mumble and then my legs are swept out from under me and I'm being put into his passenger seat.

A few minutes into the drive I slap my hand over my mouth and brace myself on the doorframe. "Pull over! I'm going to be sick!"

Warner growls under his breath and turns down the first side street he can manage to find. He has barely stopped the car when I swing open the door and puke the contents of my stomach onto the curb.

Why does it look like that?

"I'm vomiting blood!" I cry out to the gods up above.

"No, you're not," Warner replies flatly.

"I'm going to die!" I sob and feel snot dripping out of my nose.

"No, you're not." Warner exhales heavily. After a short pause, he reaches across the centre console, and I can hear him holding in a laugh because he is trying to be mad at me. "You were drinking cherry drinks. That's why your vomit is red."

"Oh," I reply stupidly and sit up to wipe the tears off my face. "I didn't think of that."

"You clearly didn't think about a lot tonight," he grumbles through clenched teeth.

"What does that mean exactly?" I ask, closing the door. I turn to look at Warner, and his stony face is illuminated by the dashboard lights. "Why are you mad at me?"

Warner's nostrils flare. "Are you serious? Why am I mad at you? What the hell were you doing back there?"

"I told you I was having fun!"

"You think vomiting on the side of the road is fun? This could be impacting your recovery progress Juliet."

"Too late for that," I mumble to myself, shutting the door and leaning my forehead on the cool glass window. It's silent for too long and I realize I said that out loud and Warner definitely heard me.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

The air escapes my lungs in an audible gasp.

Unable to stop myself, I sag against the door, eyes glued to his as he stares right back at me, green eyes scorching holes in my soul, waiting for an explanation I can't give him.

He just continues to stare at me with a dark expression. Panicking, I hurry to add to my lies, "I just mean that I puked. Not on purpose but because I drank too much. But I guess that means I messed up right?"

Warner still stares at me, expression tight, eyes sharp and intelligent. "So that's the only time you have messed up?" he asks, tone laced with disbelief. "Just tonight?"

"Yes. Can you start the car now? I want to go to bed. I threw up all the drinks I had and I'm feeling very sober right now." I shouldn't be catching an attitude but he needs to stop pressing me.

"You better not be lying to me." My heart sinks. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you? Not after everything we have been through."

He unfolds his arms and moves toward me, but I shake my head and held a hand up to warn him off.

Warner stops short and runs a hand through his hair.

"I want to help you." He places one of his hands on my thigh and looks at me, green eyes wide and sincere. He squeezes my thighs gently. "All you have to do is tell me what's happening, okay?" Reaching up, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, "Just tell me what's really bothering you and I'll make it go away."

You can't help me. No one can.

"I'm okay, Warner," I croak out,

"You're lying to me," he growls looking furious. "You're fucking lying to me and I can't stand it."

"Please just take me home," I strangle out, jerking away from him. "Just take me home and you won't have to stand me."

Warner groans. "Juliet, come on. Don't twist my words. You know that's not what I meant –"

"I want to go home, Warner," I choke out. "You demanded I leave the party and let you take me home. So please just do it."

____

When we get back to the dorms I try to get to my room before he can stop me. I don't want to be questioned any longer, my one fun night was ruined by stupid Warner and I just want to go to bed.

But of course, instead of letting me retreat to my room he pulls me into his and slams the door behind us. I try to leave anyways but he grips my jacket in his hand before I can reach my door. "Please Juliet, I don't want to go to bed angry with each other. Just talk to me."

I don't answer and he pulls my jacket a little harder, so I shrug it off. That way he has nothing to hold onto and I can exit his room. Except when my jacket falls to the ground, the clear baggy my new friend gave me to feel better slips out onto the floor from the pocket.

Warner's eyes move to it before I can do anything.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I look at him and he is speechless. Both of his hands are in his hair, gripping the strands. His green eyes are tortured. The air around us crackles with tension as we stare at one another, in silence, chests heaving, cheeks flushed.

Then Warner's gaze drops to my lips and he inches forward. He takes two steps and bites out a single, harsh question: "Why do you have drugs in your coat pocket?"

He grinds his teeth together as he waits for my answer. I drop my gaze, tears filling my eyes. I shake my head, "I...I don't know...I-"

Warner runs his hand down his face. "No! God, Juliet. Why? Why do you have that in your pocket?"

Warner begins to pace, his muscles bunching under his t-shirt. Stopping dead, he faces me and spits out, "You promised. You promised me that you would tell me if something was wrong. I asked you if you messed up tonight and you lied to my fucking face. What else have you lied about?"

He moves until his booted feet are right against mine, towering over me. "Tell me! Tell me right now." His skin is mottled with the redness born of his anger. "Why are you taking drugs at a party? Why are you lying to my face? I deserve to fucking know!"

I flinch at the aggression in his voice. Flinch at the venom in his words.

"I-I can't," I stutter, barely above a whisper. Lifting my eyes, I see the incredulous look on his face. "Please, Warner," I beg, "Don't push this. Just leave it." I swallow, then force myself to say, "Just leave it alone."

Warner's head snaps back as though I have punched him.

Then he laughs. He laughs, but the sound holds no humour. It is laced with fury, coated with rage.

Warner steps one pace backward. His hands shake at his sides and he laughs one more time. Icily, he demands, "Tell me."

I shake my head, trying to protest. He lifts his hands to his hair in frustration. "Tell me," he repeats. His voice has lowered an octave and radiated menace.

I make to move towards the door, to leave, self-preservation seizing control. As I do, I feel desperate fingers wrap around my wrist and spin me back around.

Warner's pupils have all but consumed his irises. "No! Stand right here. Stand right here and tell me." He takes in a long breath, and, losing all control, he shouts, "Tell me why there are drugs in your pocket!"

"Okay fine I did something stupid," I blab, looking up at the ceiling because any balls I had beforehand disappeared.

Just rip it off like a Band-Aid. Quick, quick, quick.

"I met a girl in the bathroom tonight and she said I looked sad. She said she had something that would make me feel better..-" I trail off when I see the look on his face. "She said it would be fun."

Silence.

Complete, mind-numbing silence.

"I know it was stupid but I'm fine." Like that was going to help the situation but something was better than nothing. I hoped. I gesture to myself, and the fact that I made it home in one piece. "See? Nothing happened."

"Get out."

"Excuse me?" I ask, still looking up at the patterned ceiling.

"Get out, Juliet," he repeats.

I lower my gaze down to meet his eyes which are enraged. "I'm sorry okay? It was just a little bit of drugs. Please. I'll do better."

I take a step forward, only for him to take a big step backward.

My hand drops back to my side.

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head and takes another step away from me. Then another.

"I'm serious Juliet. Get the fuck out of my room. I can't look at you right now."

My heart starts pounding so fast, I think it might explode. My face goes hot. My chest starts to hurt. It is like my skin is being flayed.

The moment I am out of his room, my heartbeat triples. The urge to throw up and cry is so overwhelming, that I manage to stifle the gag and settle for sucking in a ragged breath that does nothing to keep my eyes from tearing up.

I swallow down the acid lump in my throat before I choked on it.

I just wanted to forget about the pain for a couple of hours.

I deserved to feel like this.

I was a liar.

I was pathetic.

I just wanted the pain to stop.