Eighteen Bottles on the Wall (Ducky's Creative Writing Story)

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Eighteen Bottles on the Wall (Ducky's Creative Writing Story) Empty Eighteen Bottles on the Wall (Ducky's Creative Writing Story)

Post  Narcissa Black on June 2nd 2011, 2:32 am

So... this is just one of them, but I'm really bored right now, and I don't see anything better to do than post this, whatever. It's... eh. Here goes...

He turned right out of Senior Lot and onto Brookestone Road. He had just finished the Grease show on its last night. He had to set up the party that followed; it was his duty as the lead to help set up. This was just a little preview of what was to come. It was almost summer. After that all he had to look forward to was three months of intense partying and hard liquor. After that was another miserable four years, working his ass off for a number his parents would be proud of.

His car lurched to a halt as he stepped on the brakes at a red light. This party was perfectly timed. Any more time spent in places he didn’t want to be and he would explode. The drugs and alcohol would make everything better. Just the right amount – and hell, even more than that – and all of it would just disappear. He would be numbed by the drugs, and spurred on by the vodka. For those few moments at the parties he went to, he had everything. When he was drunk he knew that he had no excuse to be worried about his future or his life. All that mattered was the now - that present minute. He lived for what wasn’t right. The forbidden had a magnetic pull over him. He lived for the parties, and the drinking. He loved the way vodka trailed down his throat, leaving a burn behind, or the way a beer felt as you slowly emptied the can’s contents.

His foot landed heavily on the gas, the car’s momentum pushing back into his seat as he sped away. He just wanted to get drunk right now. He wanted to avoid all his work, forget about everything for that one exhilarating moment when you were so drunk that you just live for the moment and nothing else.
He looked around his friend’s street, lit only by the street lamps. The large houses loomed over the street, ominously warning the lost passer-by that no, they didn’t belong here.. His parents only knew the mask he portrayed. They were still under the impression that he thought they loved each other. That’s what they wanted him to think. They had no idea what their son was truly like; they made no effort to know him.

He pulled up in front of his best friend’s mansion. Looking up at it, it was almost identical to his own. He got up out of his car and walked through Sam’s over-manicured yard and around to the back, where Sam was unloading a water cooler out of his trunk.
“Hey, Bastien,” Sam called as he spotted him, “care to help?” Sebastien nodded and helped Sam carry the cooler into his basement. Once the two of them had set it down, Sebastien recalled the layout of his basement.
“Where’s all the vodka?” he asked, “we should probably start mixing soon.” Sam nodded in agreement.
“There’s also some beer in the fridge, plus whatever we have in the liquor cabinet. Also, my parents have decided to go to Paris for the weekend, so we’re clear there,” he said.
Sebastien smiled. This was the perfect set-up. No parent, plus lots of alcohol, and plenty of time to restock the cabinet. It was the perfect formula.
“Who is coming?” he asked, looking at Sam. He expected his girlfriend to be here, though he didn’t particularly want to see her. She was a means to an end.
“I know what you’re thinking, Bastien. Isabella is coming. You can’t escape her forever. She’s been looking for you for days. She told me that she wanted to tell you something, and she sounded pretty well… desperate about it,” Sebastien’s eyes flashed in annoyance.
“She’s been too up my ass lately,” he said, “don’t do this, don’t do that. What is she, my mother?” he complained, his voice raising.
Sam simply flashed his signature ‘don’t even go there’ look, and Sebastien stopped. Sebastien took one look at his friend’s slumped over shoulders and then leaned back to the large coolers and opened the top, reaching into the pile of ice, and pulled out a can of beer.
“Hey, Sam,” he called. Sam looked up and Sebastien threw the can at him. After Sam caught the can, Sebastien looked at him. “Waitlisted or rejected?” he asked. There was only one reason for Sam to be so upset, and that was a rejection from Harvard. Sam had been working to get into Harvard since the fifth grade.

Sam shook his head. Sebastien wouldn’t press the matter. Just as he was about to attempt a pep-talk, the sound of a crowd came from outside.
“Look’s like the party’s about to begin,” he grinned. Sebastien got up, and grinned to Sam before he opened the door for them. “Come on in, guys,” he said, “the cooler’s over there, beer is in the smaller ones on the floor.” He pointed to the two bright red coolers. Sam got up and took the opportunity to speak.
“Before we start, there are a few rules.” A collective moan echoed among the small crowd. “One, you throw up, you’re out. Two, you stay down here. The party is here, not upstairs. Three, I will serve the drinks myself. No one else touches this cooler. And, four, if there is no ride for someone, I’ll arrange something. Don’t drive drunk.” Sam gave his final rule and walked over the huge water cooler that held the mixed vodka, ready to hand it out to eager drinkers. Someone hooked an iPod up to the basement speakers, causing music to blare. Sebastien smirked. Now all that was lest to be done was simply to get himself drunk,

An hour later, the lights had been dimmed so as to create an environment conducive to dancing, and the table that sat against the wall normally was moved to the centre of the large basement to create a dance platform for girls that liked to make fools of themselves. Any fragile furniture or expensive vases were already moved to the garage for safe-keeping. The basement had been transformed into the perfect party area. No breakables, nice speaker system, good alcohol stock. All was well in party-land.
Sebastien, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as drunk as he wanted to be. He noticed a small figure making its way through the crowd of people. He would recognize her anywhere. It was his girlfriend, Isabella. He fought the urge to groan as she got closer. There was no avoiding her this time. He put on a fake smile when she reached him.
“Hey, baby,” he said, hoping that her ‘need to talk to him’ hadn’t reached critical yet. Unfortunately, Isabella’s face did not mirror his own. Instead, she had a sombre expression. Shit, he thought, she must be pregnant or something. There’s no other explanation. It was only one time though! Sebastien’s eyes flickered around the room, looking for some escape. He didn’t want to hear this. Finding none, he grabbed the nearest beer and took a long gulp. Isabella looked on silently, one eyebrow raised.
“We need to talk,” she said quietly. He could barely hear her over the music, but he did hear her. She had uttered the four words that so often ended a relationship – or something worse. Sebastien thought. Like a baby! Sebastien looked around for a little bit, trying to find a quiet place to talk.
The entire basement was filled to the brim with people, the scent of sweat and alcohol in the air. Deciding that no place in the basement was quiet enough, he took her hand and led her upstairs.
“Sebastien! What are you doing? Sam said not to come up here!” She exclaimed. Sebastien looked at his girlfriend, giving her a scathing look.
“Sam says a lot of things. Besides, he won’t mind, he knows me. Besides, I’ve never been one for following riles. You of all people should know that. You broke them with me.” She shut up after that. Sebastien smiled in satisfaction. He loved getting what he wanted. He knew how to make her quiet.

The two of them stopped in the living room. Everything here was kept pristine, every piece of furniture expertly placed, every end tucked neatly into place.
“It’s quieter up here,” he said, “what did you want to talk about?” he asked in a clipped tone. He was scared. With two words, she could end his teenage life and make him a father – or not a father, depending on how they chose to deal with things. He looked at Isabella expectantly as she looked towards the floor, obviously trying to fid a way to phrase things.
Sebastien fought the urge to pressure her to speak further so he just stood there and began to fidget nervously. Why couldn’t she just get it out already?
“Well,” she began, “I mean, we’ve been going out for a while. Our one year anniversary was just a few months past.” Sebastien remembered that anniversary. He had gotten her a diamond necklace and earring set. “We had an amazing time at your uncle’s beach house, did some amazing things.” She paused again and Sebastien almost grabbed her by the shoulders to get her to talk. He clenched his fist. What was she going to say?
“I guess I knew it, even ten.” She said, looking at Sebastien, who smiled uneasily. “What I’m trying to say here, Sebastien is that I love you.” Sebastien’s uneasy smile fell off his face as her words slammed into him, taking him by complete and utter surprise.
He hadn’t misheard her. The room was too quiet to miss that. She said that she loved him. No, that was far worse than being pregnant. If she was pregnant, he could brush it off, force her to get rid of it, but loving him? This changed things. This made it completely different.
Sebastien merely looked at her blankly, trying to figure out something to say to her. He was panicking. She was looking at him with doe eyes, and he just knew that she was hoping that he would respond with an “Oh, I love you too, sweetie” and be done with it. He couldn’t do that, though. Out of all the lies he had spoken in his life, he could never lie about loving someone. He didn’t know why, but he just couldn’t. He thought for a moment, before deciding just to get out of this situation. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this.
“I’m going back downstairs,” he said quickly. He all but ran away from her as he made a break for the basement, ignoring her shrill voice calling his name behind him. What he needed was some of that vodka.

Sam was safely located at the other side of the room when Sebastien got to the cooler, so he took a cup and pushed the tap down all the way, letting the orange juice vodka mix filter into his cup. He didn’t stop until it was over halfway full, and only then did he pull the cup away. In one cup he’d taken about six or seven times the amount that people usually got. He turned away from the cooler before turning to the crowd and music, taking a large swig from his cup, enjoying the strange mix of the sweet citrus juice and the burn of the vodka. It was a nice mixture, and it would get him drunk fast.

He danced with a few girls on the floor, caught in the crowd. The girls he was dancing with were from his English class. He didn’t think they were particularly smart. He knew that Isabella was watching but he was well on his way to getting drunk, and really didn’t care. In fact, he was probably about to do something incredibly stupid. In a sudden move, he leaned down to one of the girls that he was dancing with and kissed her roughly. Isabella should have known that that was the wrong thing to say to him, and that it was stupid. The whole thing was stupid!

Sebastien broke the kiss and took another large gulp of his drink, knocking it back easily. It didn’t take long for this stuff to take effect. He looked around, his eyes finding Sam and Isabella… who looked like she was trying not to cry. Shit, he thought. He didn’t think that she would get Sam involved. Sam began to walk through the crowd, and in his direction. Sebastien looked around for someplace to go, and found none. He was trapped.
“Bastien, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” He asked angrily, taking Sebastien by the collar. “I’ve seen you do a whole lot of idiotic things in your life, but that little display? That was just heartless!” Sebastien just shrugged and gave Sam an idiotic grin. Oh, yes. He was drunk now.
“Like you didn’ want to get some of tha’, Sam,” he said, gesturing to the girl on the dance floor, who at this point was watching the exchange between friends. This must have been better than reality TV for her.
“That’s not the point, Bastien. You just don’t get it, do you? For such a smart guy, you really can be such an ass.” Sam shook his head at his best friend.
“Oh, I think I do get it, Sam,” Sebastien said quietly, “tha’ bitch over there has won you over.” Sebastien pointed to his ‘girlfriend’. She stood across the room, trying harder not to cry. The entire party had stopped just to watch this exchange. No more music, no more dancing. It was just Sam and Sebastien now, like it had always been.

Sam’s grip on Sebastien’s shirt grew tighter, his knuckles going white. He shook his head at Sebastien.
“I think it’s time you left, Sebastien,” Sam said, in a low voice. Sebastien kept a straight face. “That so-called ‘bitch’ is your girlfriend. I’m your best friend. You don’t want to do this now.” Sebastien narrowed his eyes at his friend.
“Fine. I’ll do what you want. I’ll leave.” Sam let go of his friend’s shirt, and Sebastien turned to leave.
“Sebastien, let me get you a ride home,” Sam said, looking around for someone sober. “I’m not letting you drive like this.” He said. Sebastien didn’t want to deal with this, all this ‘friend drama’ and ‘girlfriend drama’. Honestly, it was all stupid. While Sam was looking around, Sebastien took the opportunity to leave. He scurried out of the basement, swaying as he walked. At this point, he just wanted to go home to the bottle of Belvedere under the false bottom drawer of his desk. He stumbled across Sam’s lawn, making his way to his car. He opened the door and fumbled with the keys, attempting to get them in the ignition. After a few tries, he got the keys in, and turned them. The car’s engine roared to life, right as he heard Sam’s voice from outside.
“Sebastien! What do you think you’re doing? Hey, Sebastien!” Sebastien smiled and shook his head, putting his car into drive and pressing his foot down on the gas hard. He drove off at a break neck speed, accelerating down the street. He passed through a red light, laughing as he went. No one would be out this late. There was no one on the streets, no cars driving. He was safe.

Sebastien’s phone rang, ringing out Justin Timberlake’s “Sexy Back”. He looked down, checking to see who it was, rolling his eyes. Sam, it was always Sam. He thought about picking it up, or even just throwing his phone out the window. He didn’t do either though. He let it ring until it stopped and the little ding telling him that he has a new voicemail went off. He was too angry to pick it up. After all, his girlfriend had turned his only real friend against him. That was what hurt the most. Sam had cornered him. That had never happened before. Sam had always done crazy things with Sebastien, and now Sam was against it? It didn’t make sense.

Sebastien swerved his car into a turn, taking it way to fast to be legal – or safe. He would just go home, and sleep. His parents wouldn’t care. They wouldn’t know that he came home. He would execute his normal plan that had worked all throughout high school. He would climb up the trellis that led to his bathroom window. He would then climb in and just go to his room. It was his foolproof plan that had worked all of high school. He remembered the first time that he had tried it, how he had jumped down from the bathroom window ledge and hit the neat wicker basket of extra soaps on his way back in, causing them to spill all over the floor.

He has climbed up that trellis so many times that he could do it even when he was so drunk that he could barely register what was going on around him. Once, Sam had joined him too. He remembered how much Sam had worried that the trellis would give way, or that they would be caught. He worried too much. He always did, even about college. It was none of Sebastien’s business now that Sam had proclaimed his side.
Sebastien heard a honk from one of the cars he cut off as he veered around another curve.
“Asshole,” he muttered, speeding up even more. He wanted to escape. He wanted to leave, to run away. He just wanted to go to college and start over where people were sure to accept him instead of looking for ideals. The road was empty; Sebastien saw no need to go slow.
He swerved quickly around another turn, eyes widening in surprise when he saw a deer in the middle of the road. He tried to turn the car away, but he couldn’t do it properly at the speed he was going. His frantic attempts sent his car careening out of control. He tried to control the car, but it was too late to stop. Sebastien frantically tried to stop the car or do something, but everything was happening too fast for him to process. His car was headed straight off the side of the road. He could only see the guardrail, as it grew closer and closer.

Sebastien felt the impact before he saw it, and everything went topsy-turvy. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but only felt how much everything hurt. Then, suddenly everything stopped. He didn’t feel anything, and through blurry vision, he was able to look out of the windshield a little bit. Instead of looking up and seeing the sky, he saw the ground. Sebastien could only think that he had flipped his car. Parents will kill me, he thought absently. He was tired. He was tired and sleep was tempting him, beckoning him to come closer. He gave in to it easily, letting the blackness around his vision take him into the inky depths.
Narcissa Black
Narcissa Black
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