A little Voice
With a low scream, Helen stumbled forward when the door in front of her finally opened. She was able to stop herself at the last moment, so she did not to fall against her hallway dresser. With a feeling that everything was spinning around her, she just stood there for a moment. It was hard to even have a clear thought.
With a deep breath she straightened up, but the instant nausea that rose within her indicated that this had not been a particularly clever idea.
Shit, I'll never drink that much again.
She was aware of the irony of her thoughts. It was the same as the last time and also the second last time. She was a wonderful example of self-discipline.
It's all Anna's fault. When she's not around, I don't drink that much. She just doesn't know when to stop.
In a moment of clearer thought, she reached back with her left hand to give her front door a nudge. While it fell shut with a loud crack, she threw her handbag on the dresser. At least that's what she had planned to do. However, the thing bounced off the edge and the contents spread over the floor. Helen looked down with resignation before attempting to slip off her boots. Another wonderful idea she'd had.
As she tried to find a position where she wouldn't tip over backwards, her eyes kept falling on the mess she had made in the few minutes she was home. The bag was still on the floor with the zipper wide open. The darkness inside looked almost like a mouth, while the glass stones on the side had something of eyes.
"Don't look so stupid!"
It felt good to hit someone else. Especially since she realized that in her condition she could no longer stand on one leg. She slowly slid along the wall to the floor, her miniskirt sliding up to her waist. The fabric pinched her side, but she had other problems. She had the zipper open by now, but for some reason the shoe wouldn't go off her foot. With a loud grunt, she finally pulled the thing off. Her heel hit the ground with painful force.
"Shit, shit, shit."
Helen held her heel, her head ajared against the wall. She felt still nausea, but at least not as dizzy anymore. And again her eyes fell on the bag. That wide, grinning mouth and the mocking eyes.
"Useless thing," she growled.
The zipper was broken since forever. She really needed a new one.
"Don't live out your anger on me"
Helen paused, irritated. The high-pitched, squeaky voice ached in her ears. Slowly she turned her gaze towards the door, where she had heard the words from. But it was closed. And nobody was to be seen.
"Sure, first moan and then don't know who is talking to you."
"What the hell?"
Helen's eyes fell on the bag. It was really staring back at her right now.
"Come off your high horse Queen of the drunk. The only one to blame for this situation is you. Don't take your mood out on everyone else."
She was still staring at the bag, but her vision was a little blurred. It was almost like the mouth of the bag was moving.
"Keep your mouth shut!"
"I'll shut up when you stop complaining and finally grow up. At some point you will be found in an alley because you were too drunk to find your way home."
The burning sensation of anger rose in her. Who was she that she had to let her handbag offend her? That old thing could be glad she hadn't tossed it in the trash yet.
"If you're that smart, you can put that shit away yourself," she hissed.
The dizziness returned and Helen felt gravity pull her to the ground. With one last reproachful look at her bag, she sank to the floor. She only needed a moment.
The first thing she became aware of was the stabbing pain in her neck. Helen managed a groan as she slowly opened her eyes. Everything about her body felt stiff. Her cheek hurt from lying on something hard. Actually everything hurt because she was lying on something hard. She moved her hand and ran it over the rough carpet.
Shit that's the hallway.
She sat up with a jerk. An act that she regretted in a second. Her head seemed to explode in pain and a torrent of nausea shot up her throat. She was just glad she wasn't throwing up. Cleaning the carpet would have cost her a lot again. Why was she in the hallway at all?
The truth that she had fallen asleep here only slowly dawned on her and filled her with a feeling of shame and frustration. She really had to stop drinking. After the first wave of nausea was over, she took off her second boot and slowly began to struggle upwards. She just wanted to drink water and then into her bed. Her gaze fell on her bag, which was on the floor. Did she drop that thing?
She didn't know why, but she couldn't really look away. Something in the depths of her hangover memory wanted to come out. But she couldn't grab it. Shortly afterwards, when she still didn't know what to do with the bag, she shook her head and sat up completely. She couldn't care less either. She would clean up the mess later. Shakily, she shimmy through the hallway to her bed and just fell into her pillow.