I'm Good I'm Gone

A/N: I know I said I was going to post the story in a guy's point of view, but this one is in a girl's point of view so Tung won't be alone! [Actually, my computer is just acting up so I can't get to my other story]...ilu Tung :D.
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The heavy bass techno music blared in the club, giving me a tremendous headache as I sat by the bar. Trying to drown out the noise, I gestured for the bar tender to come over and ordered another drink. He raised an eye brow at my condition, but did not say a word as he handed me another alcohol beverage. I guzzled down the drink, but the headache still persisted. Why am I even here?

The dark club had flashing color fluorescent lights, illuminating the mass of bodies pressed against each other for a few seconds at a time. The lights furthered served to aggravate my headache even greater. I am the only one sitting by the bar, drinking by myself. I wondered how much of an idiot I must look like right now.

I really don’t even know why I was here at this moment. The last few hours have been a blur to me. I ordered another drink, the bar tender really seemed like he was going to stop me this time but he didn’t. I really wish he would, maybe then I can remember why I came here.

A feeling of nausea washed over me and I tried to drown it with alcohol. Why was everybody so happy? Why am I feeling so miserable?

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I couldn’t help but feel jealous, everybody was laughing, dancing. What am I doing? Sitting here by myself, unable to even remember how I got here, drowning my feelings with alcohol.

“Hey there,” a male in his early twenties approached me. He smirked and sat down beside me. I could tell he wasn’t shy.

“Why are you sitting here all alone?” there was no hint of concern in his voice. I knew what he wanted, guys like him.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. I really don’t.

The boy turned to the bar tender. “Can I have two drinks? One for this lovely lady here,” he pointed at me. The bar tender shook his head. “I really think she’s had enough,” he said and walked away to attend to another customer. Smart man.

The boy let out a sigh. “Terrible service,” he grumbled under his breath and turned back to me.

“How about a dance?” he asked, giving me another smirk. I could smell his heavy cologne. I wanted to nod, to pretend to be happy like the rest of the people within the club. Something held me back.

“No…” I faintly said. He frowned as if he had never been rejected a dance before.

“Look, just one dance. I won’t hurt you” he reached for my hand. Before I could pull back, he grasped a hold upon my wrist. I tugged back a bit.

“Leave me alone,” I could feel my voice getting a bit louder. The bar tender walked over and tried to talk to the man.

“Look sir, she’s had a bit to drink. I don’t want any trouble here—“ he tried to reason.

“I don’t know what the hell this bitch’s problem is, she’s going to come with me whether she fucking likes it or not!” the boy yelled and yanked my arm harshly. I could feel the nausea get worse, my stomach was feeling sick. All of a sudden, a memory hit me.

“LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE LOGAN!” another face appeared over the boy’s face for a second and I lashed out at him. He tumbled backwards, letting go of my hand and falling backwards. Two of his friends rushed over to help him up.

“What the hell is your problem?” one of his friends snapped. The group of people surrounding us stopped dancing and looked over. The club felt silent for a bit. My nausea got worse. I felt suffocated, I couldn’t breathe. Somebody help me.

Everything began to spin; I had to get out of there. I dashed towards the exit, pushing aside whoever stood in my way. The cool air hit my face, but I still felt sick to my stomach. I stumbled along, using the sides of buildings to support myself. Where do I go from here?

My head was pounding; I could feel a burning sensation rising up through my body. Vomit hit the sidewalk, all the alcohol I consumed now splattered against the side of a building. The world still spun around me, I slide down the wall and sat a few feet away from my vomit. Despite my head, I could feel some of the alcohol effect wearing off. Memories were coming back.

“YOU ARE THE MOST USELESS PERSON I’VE EVER MET,” Logan, my boyfriend of two years, yelled at me. I don’t remember what I did. I huddled on the staircase, tears spilling onto my knees. He let out a long sigh.

“Just…get out of my house,” he ran a hand through his long, dirty blonde hair. “I don’t care where you fucking go, just…go away,” he shook his head. I began to bawl, barely able to form out words.

“D—Don’t…” I walked towards him, wanting to embrace him. He raised his hand, I had no time to block it. I fell on the floor, nursing the wound on my cheek. The area felt hot and stung, he had really meant to hurt me.

“When I come back out, don’t be here,” he went into our bedroom, slamming the door on me as I lied on the floor, unsure of what to do next.

I could feel a slight temperature drop which brought me back to the present. I looked like a mess. I didn’t shower before I left and my make up ran. The cool air was really helping my sweat dry. What was I to do now? There was nowhere to go. I laid down on the sidewall floor and brought my knees into my chest, trying to make myself as small as I could. I wanted to cry, but a feeling of weariness washed over me. I closed my eyes, fell asleep, and dreamed of myself laughing, dancing.