Bitten by History

'You bitch!'

Emelia lunged for the woman in front of her but was held back by her boyfriend.

'Emelia,' he yelled. 'Calm down!'

'As if!' she shouted, jabbing a finger at the woman she wanted to pummel. 'You think you can kiss my boyfriend and get away with it?'

'Oh, please, Emelia.' Charlotte, a girl she had known since primary school, laughed. 'If Reuben has to get with other girls it's obviously because he isn't getting what he needs from you.'

Emelia's blood boiled and Reuben, sensing her rage, tightened his hold around her waist.

'You would know all about what a man needs, wouldn't you, Charlotte?' Emelia sneered in response. 'I suppose as London's number one slut you've had plenty of time to practice!'

Charlotte's face flushed an ugly shade of red. 'You take that back.'

Now it was Emelia's turn to laugh.

'Nope,' she said. 'Sorry, the truth doesn't give refunds.'

'Can both of you just please stop shouting?' Reuben's voice was barely audible above the thumping music. 'You're going to get us thrown out.'

Emelia turned her attention to him, enraged. 'I can't believe you kissed her!'

'I didn't kiss her,' he said. 'She kissed me. It was an accident, babe.'

'An accident?' Charlotte gasped. 'That's not what you said last time.'

'Last time?!' Emelia stared at him. 'This has happened before?'

'What-?' He blanched, spluttering. 'No, of course not.'

'Have you slept with her?' Emelia asked, wanting to know. Needing to know.

'No!'

'Yes!'

He and Charlotte both answered at the same time and Emelia felt betrayal sink its poisonous hooks into her heart. Oh, my god.

Seeing the realisation on her face, Reuben quickly attempted to conjure up an explanation.

'Babe, look,' he rushed to say. 'I was drunk and it was just the once. It meant nothing. She means nothing. I love yo-'

He was cut off midway when Emelia slaps him hard across the face, stunning him into silence.

Then, without saying another word, she turned and headed across the crowded dance floor towards the exit.

The palm she had used to strike Reuben burned but the sensation was nothing compared to the acidic, alcohol-tinged bile making its way up her oesophagus.

Oh God, she thought, I'm going to throw up.

When she finally made it out of the bustling nightclub and onto the less crowded street, any relief she would have found was thwarted when a wave of nausea caused her to double over and vomit onto the pavement.

A few moments later, two hands appeared from behind her to hold back her hair while she retched. At first, Emelia was grateful, but then she heard Reuben's voice.

'Take a deep breath, babe. It's okay.'

'Don't you dare touch me!' she yelled, stumbling out of his hold. She managed to avoid stepping in her own vomit, but that was the only dignified thing about the moment.

'Em,' Reuben pleaded, 'please just let me explain.

'There's nothing to explain,' she replied, hating how hoarse her voice sounded. 'I know the truth now.'

Had there been signs before tonight? Red flags she'd missed? How could she not have seen this coming?

'How long?'

Reuben looked away, just for a second, but it was answer enough. A humourless laugh escaped her.

'I swear it meant nothing,' he said. 'It was a mistake. She's not... You're the one I love.'

'If you loved me you wouldn't have shagged my bestfriend!' she yelled, drawing curious glances from some of the people standing around outside of the club.

'Where are you going?' He grabbed hold of her wrist when she tried to leave.

'Home.' She tried to yank herself free but the alcohol's influence stole her strength.

'Let me take you,' he said, as if he was a gentleman.

'Let go of me or I'll scream,' Emelia threatened, fully prepared to follow through if he didn't listen.

When he released her wrist she whirled around to face him, ger hair slapping him across the face.

'You don't have to walk me home because you're dumped!'

Reuben didn't try to stop her a second time and just watched as she stormed away.

When Emelia arrived home almost an hour later she got the cab driver to drop her off at the bottom of the street rather than right outside the house.

All the lights were off, and she punched in the security code at the front gate with great care, not wanting to risk drunkenly getting it wrong and setting off the alarm.

Emelia went around the side of the house to the lesser used side entrance in order to avoid the motion sensors. It took her three tries to get the key into the lock and she whispered profanities until she got it right.

She didn't dare turn on any lights once inside, instead using muscle memory to safely navigate across the foyer and up the stairs and down the hall.

All was silent behind her parents' door as she passed and she made it to her room without incident, breathing a sigh when she softly shut the door.

The relief was short-lived.

A human-sized shadow by the bed caught her attention and she almost screamed.

'Where have you been?'

'Dad?' She slumped against the bedroom door, heart pounding. 'You scared me.'

She fumbled for the light switch and blinked rapidly against the brightness.

'What are you doing in my room?' she asked.

She couldn't remember the last time her father had stepped a foot through her doorway. His presence was disconcerting.

How long had he been in here, waiting in the dark for her to return home?

'Where have you been?' he repeated. It was 2AM and he was still wearing his suit.

'Just out with friends.'

'And you didn't think to let us know you would be gone all weekend? Your mother was worried sick.'

'I texted,' she said.

'On Friday evening,' her father snapped. 'It's Sunday, Emelia.'

She grimaced. Shit. 'I'm sorry.'

Her father's eyes narrowed as he appraised her, his critical gaze all to familiar.

'You've been drinking.'

'A little,' Emelia said. There was no point denying it; he could probably smell the vodka from where he stood. She was just thankful her speech wasn't slurred. One less thing to be embarrassed about.

'And there's vomit on your dress.'

Blood rushed to Emelia's face after she glanced down to see that he was right. The slurring would've been better.

'You're a mess,' her father said and she barely suppressed a flinch. 'Do you think this is an appropriate way to be behaving? Staying out all hours of the night. Getting drunk. Dressing like a slut.'

A flash of anger then and Emelia glared at him.

'It's the twenty-first century, dad. Women can wear whatever they want.'

'Oh, so you want to shame yourself?' he said, his upper lip curling. 'You want to waste all of my and your mother's efforts to raise you right?'

'No,' she replied, 'Of course not.'

'Well, you certainly have me fooled,' he said. 'The way you're behaving  makes you seen you want to amount to nothing.'

Emelia swallowed, the anger dissipating as fast as it appeared and leaving nothing but painful numbness.

'Look, dad, I've had a rough night,' she said weakly, knowing that he probably wouldn't care. 'And I'm really tired. Can we continue this tomorrow?'

'You can guarantee we will,' he said. 'Your mother and I have had enough and will be having a serious discussion about your behaviour tomorrow which we expect you to be present for.'

Emelia looked away and gritted her teeth. Yay.

She moved aside so her father could leave and she resisted the urge to slam the door once he did.

A lock. She didn't have one and had never thought she needed one. But now getting one was on her top list of priorities, right below blocking and deleting Reuben's number.

Using the wall for balance, Emelia removed her high heels and clothes. She turned the light off and got into bed without bothering to remove the makeup from her face and stared up at the dark ceiling.

The night's events replayed in her mind and the numbness was soon overshadowed by a sharpness in the chest.

She gasped as her lungs constricted and her eyes began to burn. I'm never going clubbing again.

'Don't cry,' she whispered, but it was no use.

Seconds later she was rolling over, burying her face into the pillow, and sobbing herself to sleep.