The Wounded Love novel Chapter 2

"Yes." I answered holding my pounding head in my hands. "I'll be right out." The all white hotel room made everything so much brighter, making it that much harder to open my eyes and get out of bed.

Today we were all going out for lunch. Tonight would be the bridal shower, tomorrow the rehearsal dinner, and the next day would be the actual wedding. I was dreading it all.

No one even wants you here. I thought as the warm water cascaded down my body. I was already on my second shower.

They only invited you because they had to. You should've said no, Sky. You should've just said no.

Wrapping myself in a fresh white towel, I swallowed three aspirins and laid out my clothes.

I felt like shit. This was definitely my worst hangover yet. I've gotten drunk before but that was party drunk. Last night was depressed alcoholic drunk.

I could hardly remember anything. I remembered the bar. I remembered talking to myself a lot but I didn't remember what I was saying. I knew something else happened but couldn't figure out what, and the more I forced myself to think the worse my headache got.

Luckily I had a single hotel room. Everyone else had joined rooms, but of course I was saved for last, so I got whatever was left.

Honestly, I didn't mind this room. No one saw me stumbling in last night and taking all my clothes off. I must've taken my clothes off because when I woke up I had absolutely nothing on.

"Skyla, can you please hurry up? We have reservations and can't be late."

Please hurry up? That's just a way to politely tell someone that they are too damn slow, and are beginning to get on your nerves.

"Why don't you just go without me?" I called back.

"Can you open this door?" Mother asked in that tone that mothers have. The tone that makes you jump at their every request.

I hated that tone. That's the same tone that got me to attend this stupid wedding.

Reluctantly, I opened the door for her. She looked at me in disgust. I knew what I was getting myself into when I threw on the black leggings and turquoise cardigan.

My family was extremely formal. Mother had her hair pinned up and wore a hideous pant suit. The excessive amount of pearls she had on didn't help.

Why my father would ever marry her was beyond me. But he got to leave, even if that was after twenty years. Now he's married to a woman half his age.

"Skyla, what are you wearing?"

"Clothes." I responded.

She rolled her eyes. I couldn't tell whether she was frowning or not because of all the botox. "Have you been drinking? You look a mess."

I took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand-?putting my phone, wallet, headphones, and all my other things into my purse. "My ex boyfriend of two years is marrying my cousin in a few days." Was all I said. I didn't say anything else and neither did she.

"Well, I'll be down stairs in the lobby. Please don't take too long."

That's what I felt like saying, but instead said, "Coffee. Oh and maybe a glass of ice water."

"I knew you were drinking last night." Mother whispered. It was far from a whisper. The whole restaurant heard, but only my table reacted.

I got about fifty different speeches and reminded of my poor uncle who drove off of a bridge because he had too much to drink. What made matters even worse was the fact that that stupid waitress was standing there the whole time.

If I was a few days younger I would've sat there and taken the humility, but the new me wouldn't. I was set on taking care of myself before pleasing anyone else.

Besides, I did nothing wrong. So what, I had a few drinks, big deal? I'm twenty freaking two years old. I should be allowed to get wasted. I'm allowed to have a bad day.

My family was never able to admit when they were wrong. They were all robots who spent their entire lives showing off to other people.

I quietly stood up from the table and made my way to the ladies room, trying very hard not to trip over anything.

A few minutes after I made it into the bathroom, Angela walked in. She was the absolute last person I wanted to see.

I mean talk about fake. This girl was the very definition of fake. She was the worst type of bitch. The happy bitch. The bitch who was overly nice. The bitch who always knew exactly what she was doing. Right now she was acting like the innocent. How ironic.

"What's wrong, Sky?" She asked me.

I was standing in front of the counter looking at my reflection waiting for tears to come but none came. I closed my eyes.