Ruined

by Hanna, Rachel

  Chapter 5

  I arrive at the area of beach behind the college, and the bonfire is already being lit. Emmy immediately sees me and comes running. She's wearing a pair of denim shorts and a hot pink bikini top.

  "Willow!" she says as she throws her arms around my neck. I am very uncomfortable with people touching me without warning, so I step back and put my hands up reflexively. The stunned look on Emmy's face tells me that she's surprised by my lack of hugginess.

  "Sorry. Not a big hugger," I say with an apologetic smile.

  "No biggie. My aunt Judy is the same way." Okay... "Come on over here. I want to introduce you to some people."

  We walk over to the other side of the bonfire where a group of people have already gathered. The sun is setting and the sky is a beautiful mixture of pinks and oranges. For the first time in awhile, I am feeling peaceful and almost safe.

  "Willow, this is my roommate Jessie," she says, introducing me to a pale, thin framed girl with the wiriest red hair I've ever seen.

  "Hey," the girl says with a Southern drawl.

  "Hi," I say as I reach down and shake her hand.

  "And this is my boyfriend, Scott," Emmy says with a big grin and stars in her eyes. "Isn't he sexy?" She falls on the ground and into his lap where they proceed to show some PDA I didn't want to see.

  "Hello..." I say, aware that they can't hear me while they're playing tongue hockey. I see some empty alcohol containers on the ground already which tells me Emmy got her party started very early.

  "Sorry," she says as she pulls away and stands up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I might have had too much wine already," she whispers loudly as if it's a secret.

  The music is blaring and the smell of the bonfire smoke is overwhelming me a bit, so I walk a few feet further away toward the water. All I want to do is slide into the warm, wet liquid and float while looking up at the sky. Unfortunately, Emmy is having none of that.

  "Here, try this!" she yelps beside me, breaking my peaceful thoughts by handing me a shot of something amber colored.

  "No thanks..." I say trying to push it away.

  "Oh, come on. Don't be square."

  "Square? What is this? The fifties?" She giggles loudly and then hiccups.

  "Take it. It will wash your worries away," she mumbles as she hands it to me again.

  Wash my worries away, huh? That certainly sounds tempting.

  "I have to work at the TV station at nine."

  "So? This will wear off way before then. Come on, Willow. Live a little. Let loose!" she yells holding the drink in the air. Without thinking, I take it and down it in one shot. Ouch. My throat burns, my head feels like it could explode and then my stomach is on fire. Who likes this stuff?

  Before I have a chance to think much more, my legs start to feel weak and my muscles feel like Jello. And I kind of like it.

  I walk back to the group and sit down, all too aware that my legs are not cooperating. I'm what you call a lightweight, but maybe that will change the more I drink. The last thing I remember is taking another shot of the amber liquid and then darkness.

  ***

  I hear music and vaguely smell smoke, but more than that I feel cotton in my mouth and a jackhammer in my head.

  "Willow? Wake up." The voice sounds familiar, but I'm way too comfortable right now. I open my eyes as much as I can and look to my side. I'm cuddled up with some guy who looks nice enough, but I don't know him. But he's warm, and I'm tired. And I don't even care right now.

  Moments later, I feel myself rising into the air. Am I dying? Flying? What the hell? I can't stop the force of being pulled upward. That's when I realize that someone is physically picking me up by the waist and carrying me over their shoulder.

  "Put me down!" I moan as loud as I can, but I feel like I might vomit. Maybe if I throw up on this kidnapper, they'll put me down. I try by sticking my finger down my throat, but all that does is make me gag. Why is no one helping me?

  He walks for what seems like forever, and somewhere along the way I either fall asleep or black out. When I open my eyes again, I'm somewhere soft and warm and without smoke smell. And I have the world's worst headache.

  "Where am I?" I manage to whisper without making my head explode. A lamp comes on in the darkness, and I can see a man sitting in a chair next to me. He doesn't look amused. "Reed?"

  "Good morning. Well, it's one in the morning, but morning nonetheless." He definitely isn't amused at all. Shit. My first night as an intern and I get drunk and don't show up. Nice.

  "My head is killing me," I say as I try to sit up while holding my forehead. Instead, I get a jabbing pain and lay back down. "I'm so sorry, Reed."

  "Don't bother, Willow. When I gave you the internship, I didn't know you were a party animal. I need someone I can trust with deadlines and actually showing up, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to..."

  I sit straight up and push past the pain in my head. "No. Please, Reed. You don't understand. This isn't who I am normally. That Emmy girl invited me, and I caved. That was the first time I've had alcohol in my life, and I obviously cannot handle it."

  He moves closer and sits down on the coffee table across from me. "You've never drank before?"

  "No. I know, I'm square," I say rolling my eyes.

  "Square?"

  "It's a word. People say it." He laughs a little and hands me an icepack from a bowl on the table. "Here. Use this for your head. And take these," he says handing me three orange pills. "Ibuprofen."

  I swallow the pills and put the ice on my head before lying back against the sofa pillow. "How'd you know where I was?"

  "When you didn't show up, I was hoping I was wrong but I decided to check. I found you snuggled up with some guy, and I didn't like it..."

  "Wait. You didn't like it? What is that supposed to mean?"

  "It means I didn't want him taking advantage of you in your situation, Willow."

  "It sure didn't sound like that's what you meant," I say smiling.

  "Don't read anything into it. You're a beautiful girl, but I'm not focused on relationships right now." He stands up and turns on another light.

  "I didn't say anything about a relationship, Reed. Get over yourself," I mumble without thinking. Way to go, Willow. Lose the internship completely.

  "Look, I was just being nice, okay? I've only known you a couple of days, but I didn't like seeing you in that position." He hands me some crackers. "Eat these. They'll settle your stomach."

  He's really pissing me off now. Bossing me around, telling me I'm beautiful. Wait, did he say I was beautiful or did I imagine that?

  "I'm sorry I let you down, and it won't happen again. I was just trying to fit in. Be normal again." Oops. I did not mean to say that part.

  "Normal again? When weren't you normal?" he asks as he sits back down.

  "Nevermind," I say as I stand up and then woozily fall back down.

  "Willow?" he whispers.

  "Yes?" I whisper back.

  "You're not going anywhere."

  "You can't keep me here. Drive me home please."

  "Your parents gonna be okay with you coming home drunk?"

  "No." I am positive that seeing me drunk will upset my mother quite a bit.

  "Then stay. I live here alone, and you can get some sleep." I look around and realize this isn't a dorm room. It's a nice apartment or condo of some kind, and I can still hear the ocean waves.

  "Where are we?"

  "Just off campus. Lexington Glen." Whoa. Those are the nicest condos in town. Bruce owns the complex, so I ought to know.

  "Nice place," I say.

  "You should know," he says with a smile.

  "Yeah, well, Bruce might be rich but I'm not. This is an impressive place you've got here."

  "Oh, please, Willow," he says as he sits down beside me. "Your house is a mansion on the beach. This must look like a shoebox to you."

  "I hate our house. It's too big and impersonal and white. It doesn't feel
like home," I say, thinking back to a time in my life that seems decades ago but is only four years. I once had a real home, and in the blink of an eye it was gone.

  "Then why do you stay there? Why not live in the dorms or an apartment?"

  "My mother needs me," I say, although I'm not sure if that's the truth or the reverse of it. I need her to help me keep my secret.

  "I've seen your mother, Willow. She looks pretty spry to me," he says with a chuckle. Is he commenting on how my mother looks? I mean, she's a knockout for her age with her toned, tan body and blond hair, but he's way too young to be ogling my mother.

  "Gross," I say rolling my eyes.

  "That's not what I meant. Jeez, calm down. I simply mean that she is involved in activities all over town. She seems energetic."

  I look at him and smile. "Sorry." I sigh and put my head back against the couch. "You must think I'm a complete lunatic."

  "A little," he says, and I sit up and smack his leg. "No, really, I don't think that. I was worried that you were a typical college party animal, though."

  "Well, I'm not. At all. But why aren't you? You seem a little straight laced, Reed Miller."

  He smirks and then laughs, which is a weird combo. "I have a lot riding on this, Willow. That station will either make or break my future. I have a lot to prove to certain people, and I don't intend to fail. Nothing gets in my way, that's just how I roll."

  He's acting so serious that is strikes me as humorous. "Yeah, you're a gangsta, alright." I realize too late that he didn't think my comment was so funny. He stares at me for a moment before speaking.

  "I'm going to bed now, so make yourself at home. I'll drive you back to your house in the morning." He stands up and walks out. I don't know why what I said hit him so hard, but it obviously did. I grab a blanket from the chair beside me, pull it up around my neck and turn off the table lamp. I couldn't have screwed this day up more if I tried.

  Chapter 6

  The morning sun wakes me like a hammer. Streaming through the blinds, I feel it piercing my already pounding brain.

  I can smell bacon cooking, and for a moment I'm transported back in time to a place where I'm safe and comfortable. My mother is cooking breakfast for me before school, and my father is sitting in his favorite recliner watching the morning news. From the outside, the scene looks picture perfect, and oh how I wish that was true. How I wish that my life had been a scene from a Norman Rockwell painting. But, it wasn't. Still, I don't want to open my eyes. I want to remain in my make believe world for just a few moments more.

  "You're awake. Come eat something. It'll make you feel better," Reed says as he reaches a hand down to me. I take his hand and he pulls me up. The room feels uneven like I'm going to slide to the right. "Take it easy," he says softly as he puts his arm around my waist. The touch sends electricity through my body, and I never want the feeling to end.

  He leads me into the kitchen and hands me some orange juice. I take a sip and start to feel better after a few minutes. He's quite the cook with bacon and eggs and biscuits ready for me to eat.

  "I can't believe you did all this," I say looking at him incredulously.

  "You do like breakfast, don't you?" he asks with a smile.

  "Well, yes…"

  "Then you need to eat. You had a rough night last night, so you need to start your day off a little bit better." He grabs a plate and loads it up with food, bringing it over to the table and pointing for me to sit down.

  "I'm really sorry I upset you last night. I was just joking around, but obviously that's a touchy subject." I take a bite of my bacon, relishing the crunch of it. He cooks it just like my mother used to.

  "It's no big deal. I overreacted really. I mean, you don't know me or where I'm from or what I'm about, so it probably seemed dramatic to you. Let's just say that I have a lot to prove in my family, and I don't intend to fail no matter what."

  "I admire that. I wish I had that kind of drive and determination, but right now I'm just getting by." What am I saying? I'm not supposed to be revealing too much about my past, and it's only going to make him wonder more about me.

  "I can tell you're a pretty reserved person when it comes to your personal life. And that's okay. I'm not going to ask you any questions, so don't worry." He smiles, and I realize that he must be some kind of mindreader because he always seems to know what I'm thinking about.

  "I am pretty protective of my personal life, but I'm very serious about my journalism career. That's why I'm hoping that you'll give me a second chance with the internship. I promise that what happened last night won't happen again. It was a mistake, but I promise that I will be focused on the station and nothing else."

  He chuckles and sits down, taking a bite of his bacon. "Willow, I know you're a college student just like I am. I'm not saying that you have to give up your entire life for our little TV station. I don't expect that. I know that you'll date and have a personal life, and I won't interfere with that. I just want to make sure that you're serious about the job while you're there."

  "You won't have to worry about me dating. I really don't do that. And I will be focused if you give me another chance on the internship." At this point, I probably sound like I'm begging, which I am.

  "The internship is yours, Willow. There was never any question about that. I was just aggravated and took it out on you." He smiles, and it does a little something to my insides. I can't put my finger on it, but it always feels like he might be flirting with me. And then he pulls back.

  I can understand the pulling back part more than the flirting part. My whole life is about pulling back. Don't get too close to happiness or it can burn you. Don't trust people because they will eventually fail you. Don't let your guard down because when you do, the other shoe drops and you're spiraling into a pit of despair. Ah, happy morning thoughts.

  "Thank you," I finally say, relieved that he isn't throwing me out on my ass.

  "So, Monday is your first broadcasting class I take it?"

  "Yeah. I'm pretty nervous," I say, taking a sip of my drink.

  "Why?"

  "I've never been in front of a camera before."

  "You'll do fine. You have the perfect face for television," he says with a smile.

  "You think so?"

  "I know so. News directors will be chasing you after graduation."

  "Well, I don't feel so perfect right now."

  "You'll get everything you need in class. The professors are great about preparing you for the real world. Relax, Willow," he says as he reaches out and touches my hand. The simple touch unnerves me. Normally, I don't like people touching me without an invitation, but his touch doesn't bother me. It soothes me.

  "Thanks," is all I can manage to say again. He must think that I don't have a very wide vocabulary.

  "So, tell me, what made you want to be a Journalist anyway?" he asks as we get back to mundane conversation, only this question is just as loaded as any other.

  "I want to tell true stories without a slant. I want people to get a fair shake in the media for once and not be branded villains without the whole story being told."

  "You think that's possible?" he asks with a laugh.

  "Don't you? Are you that jaded?" Oops, there I go again.

  "Not jaded. I'm a realist, Willow. The media is what it is, and it will always be that way. Even as a reporter, you'll be working for a big station and you'll have to do things their way or get fired. You won't have nearly the control over your stories that you think you will."

  "Well, I prefer to be optimistic. Someone has to change the world, right?" I try to brush off his comments, but they do bother me. Am I strong enough to be the Lone Ranger of the media?

  "I admire your optimism," he says, raising his glass of orange juice. "So, what are your plans today, Miss Blake?"

  "No plans really. Same as usual," I say as I rub a smudge off the side of my glass.

  "Good. Then how about we try the whole working in the editing suite today?" He
's referring to what I missed last night, and I feel bad all over again.

  "Sure. I'll just run home and get changed into something less..."

  "Smoky and smelly?" he says.

  "Do I smell that bad?" I ask as I try to smell my own armpit without him noticing.

  "Like a mixture of beer and a charred house."

  "Lovely."

  He starts laughing, and for the first time I see a playful side of Reed. "It's okay, Willow. I'm just messing with you. You don't smell that bad. I like the smell of burnt wood and hobo." I smack him on the arm across the table and growl. Yep, this Reed Miller is quite a character when he wants to be. And hot. Never forget the hot part.