* This isn't the whole story and it's the 26th of a series, so, it doesn't make much sense out of the context. I'm posting just for grammar and vocabulary*
The sound of the alarm beeping woke her up. The bedroom was dark; nothing but a little light that came through the blinds. Anna Stanley opened her eyes, feeling her head throb. How late had she been out the night before? She didn’t remember. She remembered barely anything. If it wasn’t for the killer headache and the queasiness in her stomach, she probably wouldn’t even remember she’d been drinking. A lot. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
She forced herself to sit up, feeling her body ache, her whole body, from head to toe. She could practically guess the shoes she’d worn. She knew the different kinds of pain each of her pair of shoes caused, based on design and heel size.
She noticed the bed sheets on the floor. Had she brought someone over? God, she hoped not. She took a whiff, inhaling the scent in the air. Nope, no sex. So, she had left the pub alone. Gone alone, left alone. Seemed to be the mantra of her life.
She forced herself to stand up, feeling more sharp stings all over her body. Bile burning up her throat. Oh, God.
She ran to the bathroom, making it just in time. Never, ever again, she sworn to herself. But, then, she’d made the same promise many a time before. She brushed her teeth, gagging as the water touched her mouth, the remains of alcohol mixed with toothpaste. Never, ever again.
She looked at herself in the mirror and shivered, the dark circles around her eyes standing out. She looked so tired. She felt tired. And old. Hadn’t she just turned 32 a couple weeks before? Why did she look so beat down? She knew her features were beautiful, her freckled face was anything but plain, her grayish blue eyes were engaging. But something about her appearance made her look sad. Was she unhappy? She couldn’t afford to give it a thought. Not anymore. She knew, the more she looked into her life, the worst it would become. The trick was to ignore. Ignore that she was 32 years old and had nothing but work. That she came home to an empty flat. Every single bloody night.
She felt the tears burning her eyes and washed her face, breathing. She could almost hear the pounding of her head. She opened the medicine cabinet and picked up some painkiller, not even bothering to look which one. It made no difference, she’d take anything to get rid of the pain. She took a handful of pills. Four, five? She didn’t know. Didn’t care.
She walked back to the bedroom, turning on the lights and blinking hard. The throbbing in her head stung, and she felt queasiness again. Bloody hangover. She sat on the bed, staring at the window, there was hardly light outside. Was it rain she was hearing? Probably. She could bet it would be cloudy again, the sky gray, rain. Pouring rain. It was London after all.
Her mobile rang and she cursed, startled by the annoying song. She looked at the display and smiled. At least it wasn’t someone calling her at work on a Sunday.
“Hey, mum.” she said and realised her voice was merely a whisper. A strangled whisper.
“Good morning, dear. Or shall I say afternoon?” Angela Stanley greeted her chipperly, stopping when Anna didn’t respond. “Hangover again, darling?” she asked her daughter with a soft laugh.
“That predictable, am I?” Anna muttered and heard her mother laugh louder on the other end of the line.
“Somewhat.” Angela responded. “You haven’t forgotten you’ve got to pick up your cousin at the airport in an hour, have you?”. She asked and Anna shivered. Bloody hell. She had forgotten.
“Of course I haven’t.” she said and felt her head throb harder in protest. The last thing she wanted was to go out in this rain to pick up some cousin she barely knew. “I’ll take him to the house for tea”.
“You’re a star.” Angela said.
“Yeah, yeah.” Anna muttered, taking a deep breath. “Listen, I’ve got to go. Talk to you later, alright?”.
“Off you go, dear.” Angela said and hung up.
Anna put the mobile back on the nightstand, her eyes stinging with tears again. She didn’t want to go out. She didn’t want to get off the bloody bed. Her head throbbed harder, and she felt the bile come up her throat again, burning its way up. Full throttle. And all she could do was run to the bathroom and throw up.
The sound of the alarm beeping woke her up. The bedroom was dark; nothing but a little light that came through the blinds. Anna Stanley opened her eyes, feeling her head throb. How late had she been out the night before? She didn’t remember. She remembered barely anything. If it wasn’t for the killer headache and the queasiness in her stomach, she probably wouldn’t even remember she’d been drinking. A lot. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
She forced herself to sit up, feeling her body ache, her whole body, from head to toe. She could practically guess the shoes she’d worn. She knew the different kinds of pain each of her pair of shoes caused, based on design and heel size.
She noticed the bed sheets on the floor. Had she brought someone over? God, she hoped not. She took a whiff, inhaling the scent in the air. Nope, no sex. So, she had left the pub alone. Gone alone, left alone. Seemed to be the mantra of her life.
She forced herself to stand up, feeling more sharp stings all over her body. Bile burning up her throat. Oh, God.
She ran to the bathroom, making it just in time. Never, ever again, she sworn to herself. But, then, she’d made the same promise many a time before. She brushed her teeth, gagging as the water touched her mouth, the remains of alcohol mixed with toothpaste. Never, ever again.
She looked at herself in the mirror and shivered, the dark circles around her eyes standing out. She looked so tired. She felt tired. And old. Hadn’t she just turned 32 a couple weeks before? Why did she look so beat down? She knew her features were beautiful, her freckled face was anything but plain, her grayish blue eyes were engaging. But something about her appearance made her look sad. Was she unhappy? She couldn’t afford to give it a thought. Not anymore. She knew, the more she looked into her life, the worst it would become. The trick was to ignore. Ignore that she was 32 years old and had nothing but work. That she came home to an empty flat. Every single bloody night.
She felt the tears burning her eyes and washed her face, breathing. She could almost hear the pounding of her head. She opened the medicine cabinet and picked up some painkiller, not even bothering to look which one. It made no difference, she’d take anything to get rid of the pain. She took a handful of pills. Four, five? She didn’t know. Didn’t care.
She walked back to the bedroom, turning on the lights and blinking hard. The throbbing in her head stung, and she felt queasiness again. Bloody hangover. She sat on the bed, staring at the window, there was hardly light outside. Was it rain she was hearing? Probably. She could bet it would be cloudy again, the sky gray, rain. Pouring rain. It was London after all.
Her mobile rang and she cursed, startled by the annoying song. She looked at the display and smiled. At least it wasn’t someone calling her at work on a Sunday.
“Hey, mum.” she said and realised her voice was merely a whisper. A strangled whisper.
“Good morning, dear. Or shall I say afternoon?” Angela Stanley greeted her chipperly, stopping when Anna didn’t respond. “Hangover again, darling?” she asked her daughter with a soft laugh.
“That predictable, am I?” Anna muttered and heard her mother laugh louder on the other end of the line.
“Somewhat.” Angela responded. “You haven’t forgotten you’ve got to pick up your cousin at the airport in an hour, have you?”. She asked and Anna shivered. Bloody hell. She had forgotten.
“Of course I haven’t.” she said and felt her head throb harder in protest. The last thing she wanted was to go out in this rain to pick up some cousin she barely knew. “I’ll take him to the house for tea”.
“You’re a star.” Angela said.
“Yeah, yeah.” Anna muttered, taking a deep breath. “Listen, I’ve got to go. Talk to you later, alright?”.
“Off you go, dear.” Angela said and hung up.
Anna put the mobile back on the nightstand, her eyes stinging with tears again. She didn’t want to go out. She didn’t want to get off the bloody bed. Her head throbbed harder, and she felt the bile come up her throat again, burning its way up. Full throttle. And all she could do was run to the bathroom and throw up.