Sun violently glared through the cracks in the curtains as if it was some sort of attempt to blind you. Light groans escape your lips as you begin to stir, being awoken from your sleep. Your eyes blinked as you read the digital clock laid on your tip of a desk.

10:24 am. You couldn’t tell what was worse, the raging hangover running through your body or the banging of Gaz and Soap's fist on your door.

In a panic Simon stumbles around your room attempting to throw on his trousers, alcohol still coursing through his veins. I stumble over his feet with a groan as I hurridly slide a jumper over my head, hiding the purple marks and bruises that painted your chest.

Your original plan was that he would sneak out your room before the sun rose but you were trapped. Their banging on the door was growing relentless, refusing to stop until you let them in so they could torement you for your drunken antics.

He had no choice. Plan B the window… It was the only option. You hurriedly slammed the window up as he squeezed his muscular body through it. A loud thud and a groan echoed through your ears as the three finally burst through your door.