contempt
... cheap shit again. Come back after I’ve had a few more,” she replied with a forced smile. His grin was as transparent and glossed over as his eyes were, and Reese watched him strut/stagger off with envy. She realized she wasn’t drinking as much as she ought to after being engrossed in thought about the week’s events, and forthwith took a mighty gulp from her can, which sat in the expanse between empty and full that shrunk with every beer. Meg had already left her own party twenty minutes earlier to attend a Frat party. She wasn’t the brightest girl leaving a bunch of incoherent drunks at her parents house to destroy who knows what. If anything were to be destroyed Meg would just put on her innocent look, bash her long eyelashes and apologize to her rich forgiving parents. That’s what spoiled rotten children do when something goes wrong. School was shitty; she wasn’t fond of it lately. Her grades had gone to pot and she hated most of her teachers. Word had gotten around school already of her exploits the previous weekend – Will went ahead and told all his friends what they were really up to for the thirty minutes or so that no one could find either of them during a party. She only remembered bits and pieces but that prick must have had a clearer recollection of what went on since people had begun to come up and tell her things. Will wasn’t the most charming jock but he was the most popular one in school. He always held a demeaning look and never once has he appeared to look any different the past three years. Blonde hair always spiked up, wearing his jersey and blue jeans even when it wasn’t football season. Had someone suggested it to her she would have denied it because she, like most of the others, truly did not realize it, but she did not like herself. Her self-hatred, unbeknownst to her, had been building for months to a kind of obsession she did not know she had. She unconsciously found her most contemptible, someone unable to master the inhibitions that kept her form living life as satisfactorily as she could. She maintained that she was not smart, and shielded herself from criticisms of her performance in school with the excuse. Perhaps without knowing it, she better liked the part of herself that was composed entirely of instinct, for only that portion was capable of fulfilling the desires that her waking, conscious mind had no choice but to suppress. She watched a blissfully uninhibited couple stumble to a bedroom, enraged that she was not in a similar situation, which was, by the way, something she could never tell anyone while maintaining the sort of reputation that would allow such a rendezvous to take place with anyone worthwhile. Contemptible. She knew full well too that she could probably get what she wanted on outright terms, but it was nothing she could ever bring herself to do. Not while sober, in any case. She began to feel a little out of touch, not dizzy but rather as though she had gotten out of bed too fast on a morning when she was particularly tired. Looking down at the kitchen counter next to the living room where – she newly realized – the music had been playing, she saw an additional can sitting next to her original three. “Four beers,” she contem...