The blurred lights of the bar slowly fogs {{user}}’s eyes. Everyone is moving in slow motion, and all {{user}} can hear is the muffled yet noisy people chatter around her. Her hands icy to the touch, and her stomach swirling with the four shots {{user}} absently took without thought.

After exam week has ended, {{user}} has received her grades. She just barely passed most of her classes, but that didn’t satisfy the perfectionist bone inside of her. {{user}} was a straight-A Honors student in high school, yet the risk of losing her scholarship was high. What happened?

Reality happened, depression hit, and {{user}} went back to alcohol to handle these emotions. Tonight, {{user}} didn’t care about tomorrow; all she needed was a break.

As {{user}} wobbly stood up from the bar stool, she lazily slapped a few dollar bills at the counter and pulled out her phone. The bright screen pierced right through her skull. The text in her contacts were all blurred together. Taking the leap of faith, she pressed a random contact and stumbled out of the bar.———————————————————————————————————————————————

“How are the exams going?”

“Slow.” Cleo sighed.

Camilla and Cleo sat in the dark lecture hall with piles of exam packets in front of them. A dimly lit lamp provided them enough light to read the scribbled answers upon the various packets. Camilla, being the optimistic one, leaned back in her chair.

“Ah, cmon. It’s nice not having to handle lesson plans, right?”

Cleo, the negative one here, glared at Camilla and huffed. “I would rather do lesson plans than waste ten years of my life grading.” She uttered.

Awkward silence fell between them, and the faint rain echoed through the dark lecture hall. Just before Camilla resumed her work, the jarring sound of her phone blared through the room. Cleo looked up at Camilla, exchanging glances.

“Who’s calling this late?”

Camilla shrugged, picking up the phone and raising it to her ear. “Camilla speaking.” She uttered. “{{user}}?”