"Ugh, my head." Pete awoke with a throbbing headache. Instinctively, he reached for his head, rubbing his temple to soothe the pain. He sat upright, scanning the room.
The place was squalid.
Ashes and cigarette butts were littered all over the floor. The smells of mold, sweat, and sex were heavy in the air. An old, broken window allowed the light of day to pierce the otherwise dark room.
Pete noticed his shirt was ruined. Blue splotches were dotted across his white shirt. Pete sucked his teeth, gazing out the window into the sky. "Shit..." he whispered.
He stared at the sky, trying his damnedest to remember the night before. But, everything seemed to be a blur. He thought about waking up the chick sleeping under the filthy burgundy covers, to ask if she remembered, but. He got a strange feeling in his stomach and decided it would be better to leave her be.
He shrugged his shoulders, checking his pants, pushing his hand down into his right pocket, to scramble for his wallet. "Shit, don't tell me I got, got again!" He pouted, flailing his arms up in the air.
Finally, he uncovered the wallet in his left back pocket. "-Close call," he whispered, pulling his wallet from his pocket. Peeking into the leather flap, he noticed his I.D and smirked at himself 'Good Ole' Pete'.
Pete had short brown hair, with green eyes and a face dotted with tiny freckles. He wasn't a real "looker," but he wasn't ugly either; he was somewhere in between.
Whilst zipping up his fly, he made his way toward the hallway. The paint was a faded white with black floor tile; red plastic cups were scattered across the hall, with brown and blue liquids swirling inside of them.
"Eh, a shot never killed anyone" *Gulp!* as Pete took down the entire cup, in a single swig! The blueberry and the bitterness of the alcohol took him over. It was like a cool euphoria. He smirked, tossing the cup onto the floor, twisting the knob, and making his way out of the apartment.
Pete navigated the maze of trash, cups, and small piles of garbage, making his way to the door. He turned back around, staring at the cup behind him. The red plastic cup was filled to the top with the blue liquor. The liquor reflected Pete's image onto the surface; he smiled at himself from the cup.
The apartment complex was rather old, and the navy blue railings were dusty, with bits of grey where the paint had been chipped off. The stairs were made of grey concrete, and pieces of dried gum and small piles of dirt stood littered on the floor.
Pete made his way down the narrow staircase; He couldn't help but stop and peer over the railing. Staring at the ground, thinking of how long a drop it would be from the 6th floor. Pete eventually snapped out of his morbid curiosity and made his way downstairs and exited the apartment.
From outside, Pete stopped in his tracks for a sec, turning back to face the building one more time. The brown and red brick was faded, some apartments had curtains covering their windows, others had no windows at all. The building looked abandoned to Pete; he could not fathom how people could live in such conditions.
Pete belched loudly before turning and walking off onto the sidewalk. "Not my problem," he said, walking down the sidewalk, making his way away from the shoddy apartment building. The further he walked away, the more he felt his stomach turn.
"What am I forgetting?!" scratching his scalp profusely, he thought back on the night before, but before he could get into deep thought. A voice from down the street pulled him back into the present.
Loud, from almost a full block down! "PEETTEE!!" A loud, agitated female voice could be heard. Perhaps by the entire neighborhood, Pete cocked his head back and did a 180° turn. Immediately registering the sound from the apartment building. "I guess she's up now, huh?" Pete scratched at his scalp with deep intensity.
"Maybe she remembers the night before, but I might not survive the story." Pete nodded, making his way down the street. He couldn't help but flash a toothy grin as he strolled off, thinking of how funny it all was.
As he strolled away, he thought, "Man, I need a drink," thinking back to the blue liquor he tasted earlier. He peered into his wallet once more, and his stomach dropped. "Wait a second."
With hands on both ends, he parted the wallet down the middle. Not a single cent lay remaining. Pete sucked his teeth, took his wallet, holding it up, nearly sticking his entire eye into the flap!
"Damn it!" Pete cried out; his smug, toothy grin had faded. Guess im going home. . .
12:00 pm, 2368 Wallace Street. . .
This was the place Pete called home, an old apartment on the back block of Wallace Street.
The sound of the doorknob turning broke the silence within his home. "Huh?" he hadn't seen his place since last night, and he damn sure didn't remember the chick passed out on his couch.
"Who the hell are yo-" before he could finish his sentence, her body inched up.
"Oh, good morning, Petey. . ." her eyes fluttered open as she stretched her arms out wide, with amber hair and brown eyes: She had a familiar face, he was just too drunk to remember.
'What the fuck was I doing last night?' Pete thought to himself, pressing his fingers into his temple as if that would magically make him recall the events of the last night.
"Uhh, sorry to interrupt you, Pete, but now that you're back, what are we gonna do about it?" The chick with amber hair sat up, rubbing her eyes; A yawn escaped her mouth as she pulled herself upright.
"It?" The word seemed to repeat in his mind several times, but before he could ask her what she was talking about, she casually stood up from the couch and said it.
"The body..."