Free Mendacious by Beth Ashworth Page B

I’m haunted on a daily basis by the woman who decided I wasn’t good enough. A permanent scar etched across the forefront of my brain.
    “Arghhhhhhh! Get out of my fucking head!” I launch the tumbler across the room. It hits the opposite wall and shatters, scattering fragmented shards across the floor.
    Slumping back against the sofa in defeat, I hang my head in my hands. I’m not sure how long I stay like this, but I’m only interrupted when I hear my phone.
    “Y-Yea?” I slur into the receiver, not bothering to check the display.
    “Alex?” Alice’s concerned voice fills my ears. “Why haven’t you been answering your calls?” she screeches, making me pull the phone away from my ear with a wince. “I’ve been trying to call you, but it’s been going to voicemail. Mum said you were going to see Grandma tonight, so I wanted to check in with you, but you haven’t been answering.”
    “Stop!” I yell when her whining becomes too much for my already inebriated head to handle. “Stop whining.”
    Alice clucks disapprovingly. “You’ve been drinking, right? How much have you had? Are you at home?” She bombards me with question after question and I find myself clutching my forehead as pain shoots across my temple.
    “What the hell is this?” I mumble. “Stop asking me so many bloody questions. Just leave me the hell alone.”
    She sighs and I hear her muffling the phone. She’s talking to somebody in the background, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. My interest wavers and I decide that I don’t actually give a shit.
    “It’s the next left and then a sharp right,” she says, uncovering the phone. “You can pull in this carpark here and use this key fob to get in.”
    “A-Alice?” The pounding in my head grows sharper, almost to the point where I’m about to smack myself in the face to try and relieve the pain. “A-Alice ... Alice.” She continues to ignore me, which pisses me off more. I can hear her shuffling around in the background and various other sounds; a car engine, a door slamming shut, and the sound of a male voice.
    “Ms. Lewis, is Mr. Lewis expecting you at this hour?” My ears prick at the sound of Jeffery’s voice, and I’m immediately on edge realising my little sister is downstairs. This changes things and I’m definitely caring a little more now.
    “He’s actually on the phone right now. Alex, tell Jeffery we can come upstairs,” she demands.
    “Mr. Lewis?” Jeffery asks uncertainly.
    “Let her up.” I spit my response and stagger to my feet. It takes me a couple of seconds to get from the living room to the front door, and unluckily, I manage to bump into every wall and bastard doorframe in the process.
    “You look like shit,” Alice snaps, pushing open the door and taking in my arseholed state. “Look at you. Bloodshot eyes and you can barely stand. What the hell have you done to yourself?” She turns to her left and speaks to somebody hidden out of sight. “Sorry ‘bout this, but can you help me haul his arse back to the living room? He’s gonna keel over in a minute.”
    Your vision isn’t half shit when you’re drunk. I’m staring straight at my sister, but she looks like a fuzzy blur. And she keeps dancing around, which is making me more and more nauseated.
    “Don’t worry. Here it comes,” I hear Alice shout as the contents of my stomach erupt over the Italian marble in my hallway.
    It’s a pretty spectacular projectile, and I feel instantly relieved after it’s happened. Alice leads me into the kitchen and props me against the counter while she wrings out a flannel. When she’s done, she slaps it against my forehead with a sigh.
    “Are you gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?” she asks, eyeing me suspiciously. “This isn’t you. The last time you got like this was years ago.”
    “Ahem.”
    My head turns and I falter slightly. Standing in the living and kitchen area is Holli. She’s got her arms folded and a very smug look