Post by Catcher Reeves on Jul 1, 2021 12:57:19 GMT -5
There were noises he couldn’t distinguish. Birds chirped louder than he’d ever heard. There was colour in his eyes but he hadn’t even opened them yet. The eyelids felt sore but it was overwhelmed by the steady return of sensations all over him.
A throb in his head like something was pecking at it; his hand touched his hair to try to get rid of it. There was nothing but strands of hair sticking out in odd directions; product was still on his scalp and that was not a good sign. He moved his hand to shield his eyes as he blinked; his arm was numb and too heavy to hold up. It dropped with a thud to his side and he realized it was soft but had a smooth fluffy texture. His head slowly stirred and tingles ran down the side; he had been sleeping on the area too long. His whole body felt like it had been stuck in one position to the point it hurt to move; when he did try to move he could feel his back crack. He was flat on his front and it was both hot and cold despite the lack of a breeze.
The noise was getting louder and his ears became more sensitive. They sky was a bright, unpleasant light and he could barely see anything with the glare. The side he looked at was an immense wall of dark brown and the sun was shining, beating down on him as he realized the room was small. It wasn’t a room… at all. Catcher tried to roll but he was unsteady and finally lifted himself to support with his elbow, the closest things to him coming into view. It wasn't long before he let himself fall down to the padded surface on his back. He laid there unmoving and squinting up blinded to everything but able to see his fringe jutting upwards in disarray; his palms started to strengthen as he came around. What time was it?
Curling his fingers, he touched the floor that he was on and it was powdery; he could grip it and it slipped through like dust.
The last memory he had hit him like a bag of bricks, one throw at a time as he groaned in pain. ”Ughh…” Natasha’s small hands had patted him then suddenly yanked him up by the shirt. She was pulling as he sat so he had to step back up from the chair and face her, smoothing the top down so it wouldn’t scrunch up. He didn’t expect that and it was begrudgingly that he got up, but she took the surprise to the next level by stealing his keys; it was so fast, her hand just shoved into the correct pocket and took it away before he could stop her.
Something about being scatterbrained; was he really? Xion’s nurturing comment about him a moment ago made him reflect and wonder if he would always have to be self-aware of how others perceived him in order to figure himself out. These were not unusual thoughts… it had nothing to do with anything he needed answered now.
He was frustrated and narrowed his eyes, slouching slightly deeper into the padded ground. It was hard to separate reality and visual memory but he was putting his hands on his hips to look at Natasha expecting she would give his keys back but she was stubborn and he had to change tactics. The longer he had watched her the more he realized how understanding she was being, leaving him feeling less of a grump but more guilt-ridden. She was an angel. None of this would’ve happened if he let her keep his keys...
Throwing his head backwards with a snap, he had moped then looked back at her with a pout. ”I didn’t mean to say anything to you about stuff earlier. I hope you had a great time, I know I did.” He had blurted at her; it was the flaw of drinking and caring about who he was drinking with. There were things he said that he normally wouldn’t but it was not good if people believed this was, in a negative way, the real him; mental note drunk truths, to cute girls, are not his friend. Oh no, no… he thought about every cringe thing he had done up to the void of time after midnight. It was an indirect apology to her although he hadn’t wanted to give her one earlier; he had felt it was the trade for him not taking her home. He was adamant she needed a female friend now that she’d revealed she lost Ellie, her best friend; Donna was that lightbulb in his head since he didn’t know other women around LaPush anymore. At least she was safe somewhere; everyone else was safe. Maybe he was alone doing some psychotic crap.
When he lolled his head trying to stop feeling like there was water in his brain; it grew darker as the clouds blocked the sun. His neck and back were strained as he attempted to sit up; he was shaky and weaker than he should be. A slow sense of dread and confusion settling in; he couldn’t remember anything except that he was leaving prom. Flashes of weird images were blurry and fast. ”Go, have a good time with Donna… or rest. I’ll come find you.” There was no pen, so he had dipped his finger in a water cup and wrote his number out on the table cloth for her; they had never exchanged numbers before and it seeped thickly like paint.
She was looking out for him, but he had known the effects were wearing off by then; he wasn’t spent since he never made it to the punch bowl. Funny how things worked out… not that he cared about driving with a bit of alcohol. They were wolves, they were always stronger, better and he just couldn’t die faster if he stayed safe. If he could take that back he would right now. ”Don’t worry Tash… And I don’t ‘need’ to go after Veronica. Nothing can ever happen between us anyway.“ It was a disappointing fact but he based it on the web of complications they wove the last time they tried to be together; he was still nonetheless indignant. So, maybe neither person got roped into this… A wave of relief washed over him as he exhaled thinking the worst was over; it was only the beginning. The worst thing would be if Natasha had followed him out on some hazy trip; he couldn't return her innocence. There'd be lots for the pack to go berserk about.
Speaking with a shrug, he had tilted his head and watched Natasha for any change of mind; it was to no avail. She thought she had succeeded and he had smirked sighing, acting as though he reluctantly gave in and took her by the wrist to hold her. ”You’re too good to me.” With a soft motion, he hugged her tightly and squeezed her, smiling to himself as he was grateful for her. All that mattered was them, not him; Seth was all set and Tash probably had a bit more to talk about with Donna so they just needed to safeguard themselves. Xion probably had just as much of a need to speak with Donna since the entire night was a jumble but he had his work cut out for him supporting Seth so who knows? He might even have to put Seth to bed; he was his best friend but it wasn’t his place over Xion’s counting the time lost. All that still mattered was them but now he was a mess, questioning everything.
He felt claustrophobic and he put both hands on his face, covering everything as he would if he could wash his face but it felt like the fingers he’d touch the ground with were streaking dirt. Muffling the sound he made, he moaned into his hands not knowing what he was supposed to do next. There was no danger, but he was so fucked up he felt fear building that he may have done things he regretted or gotten into some sort of cloak and dagger operation. His fingers parted as he breathed deeply, groggy and still drowsy; his eyes adjusted more as he rubbed them then inspected his hands in gradually increasing horror. There was no more glitter… in its place was soil on his finger tips… now it was like camo on his cheeks. If Donna could see him now… His eyes widened into googly circles and he gasped trying to remember if she was anywhere near him in this.
Nodding his head courteously to Donna, he had winked at her letting her know he was wily and up to no good; mouthing “I’ll miss you…” so she knew. There was hope she would appear around town and he’d run into her; they might be able to have a decent conversation for once. Who was he kidding? She did not run in the boring circle of such a small town… and she saw right through him; it would be all his anxieties exposed. That seemed harmless enough and he stopped holding his head with his hand; what was next?
His hand had slid to Natasha’s and snatched the keys back as he kissed her on the side of her face quickly in thanks and distraction. Catcher had sprinted away so she couldn’t catch him in her mermaid dress; mid- way, he turned and jogged backwards, grinning at her and waving to her and Donna as Seth and Xion moved to the exit. Past the doorway, he had jogged to a walk down the corridor; unsure what he was going to do but wondering if he just wanted to go get food and look forward to tomorrow. Did I eat at some bar?! It didn’t feel like he did. When he had reached Seth, he ruffled his wavy hair and patted his shoulder, verbally addressing Xion sincerely. ”Thanks... as always, I’ll check on him after… I better be seeing you two a lot now.” Those were the first real words he said to Xion since he bear hugged him; he didn’t yet discern what was blossoming between his friends but he smiled at them as though everything was savvy. Pointing at Seth and Xion as they started the truck and left, he had hollered assuring he’d hit them up later while they went separate ways; he still knew where they lived. ”Call me if anything.” He had a temporary high of finding them again within minutes of saying that he dashed off, not wanting Xion to notice he had his keys; did he really end up dragging them into something because that sounds too plausible. It made him feel bad enough to weep but his mind had other plans; his nerves and emotions were not properly connected. For example, he thought he was in the driver’s seat of a car when he clearly wasn’t; it seemed he remembered something but that was just a useless imagination. He forgot he didn’t have a car here. It was just auto-memory, he hoped with anxiety building that he had lost his bike. He was sitting in a deep, roughed up ground hole.
He leaned back on his hands and rotated mechanically; rusty and tiredly bracing himself for the worst. There was a sheet of plastic restraining half his body and he reached for it, clammily touching the material; ruffled and waterproof. It was a strange feeling to be so aware of the only thing covering him; he was naked except a shower curtain. There were holes were the loops would’ve hung it, few decorative hangers still on, it much larger than himself but coiled around him like a badly done toga. Did he use this as a blanket? Why was there a car, someone transported him…
Veronica’s trunk was open and she was there with bottles looking beautifully tragic. He rubbed his cheek where she had slapped, and then wiped his face in frustration, contemplating which path to take. He was standing at the crossroads of sidewalk to his bike and to her car. It felt dense to go after her… she didn’t need him. Damned it, where was Axel? Not letting himself stop, he had kept thinking as he had paced as fast as possible to Seth’s truck before Xion drove it; it where his jacket was hanging after Seth ran out with it as the queen. Fervently he glided to his bike after he grabbed it, putting it back on. All this speed so that he wouldn’t lose determination to get away from her? Good then she wasn’t…
Catcher coughed and attempted to entwine the material better so he could move. He was lacking in motor skills doing it; failing… he felt that strongly and he shuddered, mentally crying out for a savior when the final portion of last night arrived...
A part of him had already failed in his endeavour since he didn’t put his helmet on; he couldn’t even exit the parking lot without passing Veronica. There was luck that Xion left in a hurry with Seth or he’d get an earful. When he wanted her, he couldn’t have her; when he tried the opposite, the universe came together so he could. It was the bane of his existence; opportunity. A snowball effect… Rumbles vibrated, the exhaust puffed and he accelerated but didn’t let go of the brake; the wheels screeched and fumed white smoke and he stopped revving, grimacing. Oh, thank fu-…
”Fine… Fine…” Lamenting under his breath to himself, he had smacked the handle and rode in front of her car, kicked the stand down in the middle of the empty road way and left his bike blocking her parking. Getting off, he pulled the key out so that it was quiet again and walked over to her to stand with his hands in his pockets; eyebrows raised at what she was actually doing." No…!" It was a quiet tantrum of a shout and he covered his mouth with his hand; struggling with life. ”If you just downed all that…” He had gestured to the bottles he could see, then leaned over to try and glimpse if there were more; the reminder of how she would wander off by herself after she drank returned to him. ”Then it looks like you’re stuck with me… listen, it’s the last thing you want, but you don’t have a death wish.” Catcher had rounded her car and opened the door closest to her and sat down in the seat, looking around and into the trunk; he frowned at himself and awaited a retort, closing the back door and laying down in the entire back row, wiggling into comfort. Thoughts of bottles were making him ill now… a seasickness.
Shifting, he tugged the sheet as he tried to stand but knelt from the sudden rush of blood to his head. The force of which he used to help himself mirrored his desperate inner please that nothing more happened, that he just went home and this was wonderland; even a drug stupor would be fine. He felt anemic and stopped for support until the blackout subsided. As soon as the fog cleared, he wrapped the pale purple ombre fabric around his torso with a drape and stood up, looking around as robotically as a surveillance camera. ”Seth…?”
Asking, it was reflex since his memory of last night mainly involved seeing Seth again; his was the first face in his mind and as he trailed off ”Guys…?”He uttered quietly before increasing volume in paranoia. ”Any-one? Hey…?” A sharp pang pierced his head as he had tried to call out, and he winced, pressing his temple.
He crossed an arm and bit his thumbnail in deep focus, trying to piece together something and all he could end up with was that he had talked to Veronica last. That was the worst thing… where is my phone?! Clothes…?! Obviously he had been in some sort of bathroom. Did he almost get murdered? Did he dig himself a grave because that’s not too crazy… but that would mean, he did something he wanted to kill himself over...
”Oh… no…no,no,no…” He was stuck in this creepy dry well, unless he could climb out; the soil below his feet were fresh and malleable, he could push it to the sides. What did she say or do?! I must have shared all her drinks with her… I just can't say no to her. Damn...
Catcher reached for his non existent pockets and growled to himself that his brain was all over the place or blank. He stopped being frantic for a moment and held his breath taking into account his surroundings properly for the first time; trying to jump or find some foothold to claw up. It wasn’t deep but it wasn’t shallow; what is this?! He wobbled and paused, realizing there was something swinging around to his collar and his eyes darted around, disturbed by what might be touching him. Only, it was a loofa… There was a small loofa with string knotted on his earring, making it a dangling ornament. He was wearing, loofa jewelry?! Who did this?
Nearly hyperventilating, he was listening but his ears seemed clogged from the hangover and he swallowed, deliberating clawing as hard as he could to the edge of the surface; he was getting dizzy thinking so hard and exerting himself. Grass at the edge, his arms were pulling himself out luckily, stumbling back crawling away from the ditch. He stared so much his eyes hurt and reacted to the nausea by flopping on the grass; it was a half dug grave with no tombstone and he asked himself in a hushed raspy exhaustion. ”Wtf… happened…?”
A throb in his head like something was pecking at it; his hand touched his hair to try to get rid of it. There was nothing but strands of hair sticking out in odd directions; product was still on his scalp and that was not a good sign. He moved his hand to shield his eyes as he blinked; his arm was numb and too heavy to hold up. It dropped with a thud to his side and he realized it was soft but had a smooth fluffy texture. His head slowly stirred and tingles ran down the side; he had been sleeping on the area too long. His whole body felt like it had been stuck in one position to the point it hurt to move; when he did try to move he could feel his back crack. He was flat on his front and it was both hot and cold despite the lack of a breeze.
The noise was getting louder and his ears became more sensitive. They sky was a bright, unpleasant light and he could barely see anything with the glare. The side he looked at was an immense wall of dark brown and the sun was shining, beating down on him as he realized the room was small. It wasn’t a room… at all. Catcher tried to roll but he was unsteady and finally lifted himself to support with his elbow, the closest things to him coming into view. It wasn't long before he let himself fall down to the padded surface on his back. He laid there unmoving and squinting up blinded to everything but able to see his fringe jutting upwards in disarray; his palms started to strengthen as he came around. What time was it?
Curling his fingers, he touched the floor that he was on and it was powdery; he could grip it and it slipped through like dust.
The last memory he had hit him like a bag of bricks, one throw at a time as he groaned in pain. ”Ughh…” Natasha’s small hands had patted him then suddenly yanked him up by the shirt. She was pulling as he sat so he had to step back up from the chair and face her, smoothing the top down so it wouldn’t scrunch up. He didn’t expect that and it was begrudgingly that he got up, but she took the surprise to the next level by stealing his keys; it was so fast, her hand just shoved into the correct pocket and took it away before he could stop her.
Something about being scatterbrained; was he really? Xion’s nurturing comment about him a moment ago made him reflect and wonder if he would always have to be self-aware of how others perceived him in order to figure himself out. These were not unusual thoughts… it had nothing to do with anything he needed answered now.
He was frustrated and narrowed his eyes, slouching slightly deeper into the padded ground. It was hard to separate reality and visual memory but he was putting his hands on his hips to look at Natasha expecting she would give his keys back but she was stubborn and he had to change tactics. The longer he had watched her the more he realized how understanding she was being, leaving him feeling less of a grump but more guilt-ridden. She was an angel. None of this would’ve happened if he let her keep his keys...
Throwing his head backwards with a snap, he had moped then looked back at her with a pout. ”I didn’t mean to say anything to you about stuff earlier. I hope you had a great time, I know I did.” He had blurted at her; it was the flaw of drinking and caring about who he was drinking with. There were things he said that he normally wouldn’t but it was not good if people believed this was, in a negative way, the real him; mental note drunk truths, to cute girls, are not his friend. Oh no, no… he thought about every cringe thing he had done up to the void of time after midnight. It was an indirect apology to her although he hadn’t wanted to give her one earlier; he had felt it was the trade for him not taking her home. He was adamant she needed a female friend now that she’d revealed she lost Ellie, her best friend; Donna was that lightbulb in his head since he didn’t know other women around LaPush anymore. At least she was safe somewhere; everyone else was safe. Maybe he was alone doing some psychotic crap.
When he lolled his head trying to stop feeling like there was water in his brain; it grew darker as the clouds blocked the sun. His neck and back were strained as he attempted to sit up; he was shaky and weaker than he should be. A slow sense of dread and confusion settling in; he couldn’t remember anything except that he was leaving prom. Flashes of weird images were blurry and fast. ”Go, have a good time with Donna… or rest. I’ll come find you.” There was no pen, so he had dipped his finger in a water cup and wrote his number out on the table cloth for her; they had never exchanged numbers before and it seeped thickly like paint.
She was looking out for him, but he had known the effects were wearing off by then; he wasn’t spent since he never made it to the punch bowl. Funny how things worked out… not that he cared about driving with a bit of alcohol. They were wolves, they were always stronger, better and he just couldn’t die faster if he stayed safe. If he could take that back he would right now. ”Don’t worry Tash… And I don’t ‘need’ to go after Veronica. Nothing can ever happen between us anyway.“ It was a disappointing fact but he based it on the web of complications they wove the last time they tried to be together; he was still nonetheless indignant. So, maybe neither person got roped into this… A wave of relief washed over him as he exhaled thinking the worst was over; it was only the beginning. The worst thing would be if Natasha had followed him out on some hazy trip; he couldn't return her innocence. There'd be lots for the pack to go berserk about.
Speaking with a shrug, he had tilted his head and watched Natasha for any change of mind; it was to no avail. She thought she had succeeded and he had smirked sighing, acting as though he reluctantly gave in and took her by the wrist to hold her. ”You’re too good to me.” With a soft motion, he hugged her tightly and squeezed her, smiling to himself as he was grateful for her. All that mattered was them, not him; Seth was all set and Tash probably had a bit more to talk about with Donna so they just needed to safeguard themselves. Xion probably had just as much of a need to speak with Donna since the entire night was a jumble but he had his work cut out for him supporting Seth so who knows? He might even have to put Seth to bed; he was his best friend but it wasn’t his place over Xion’s counting the time lost. All that still mattered was them but now he was a mess, questioning everything.
He felt claustrophobic and he put both hands on his face, covering everything as he would if he could wash his face but it felt like the fingers he’d touch the ground with were streaking dirt. Muffling the sound he made, he moaned into his hands not knowing what he was supposed to do next. There was no danger, but he was so fucked up he felt fear building that he may have done things he regretted or gotten into some sort of cloak and dagger operation. His fingers parted as he breathed deeply, groggy and still drowsy; his eyes adjusted more as he rubbed them then inspected his hands in gradually increasing horror. There was no more glitter… in its place was soil on his finger tips… now it was like camo on his cheeks. If Donna could see him now… His eyes widened into googly circles and he gasped trying to remember if she was anywhere near him in this.
Nodding his head courteously to Donna, he had winked at her letting her know he was wily and up to no good; mouthing “I’ll miss you…” so she knew. There was hope she would appear around town and he’d run into her; they might be able to have a decent conversation for once. Who was he kidding? She did not run in the boring circle of such a small town… and she saw right through him; it would be all his anxieties exposed. That seemed harmless enough and he stopped holding his head with his hand; what was next?
His hand had slid to Natasha’s and snatched the keys back as he kissed her on the side of her face quickly in thanks and distraction. Catcher had sprinted away so she couldn’t catch him in her mermaid dress; mid- way, he turned and jogged backwards, grinning at her and waving to her and Donna as Seth and Xion moved to the exit. Past the doorway, he had jogged to a walk down the corridor; unsure what he was going to do but wondering if he just wanted to go get food and look forward to tomorrow. Did I eat at some bar?! It didn’t feel like he did. When he had reached Seth, he ruffled his wavy hair and patted his shoulder, verbally addressing Xion sincerely. ”Thanks... as always, I’ll check on him after… I better be seeing you two a lot now.” Those were the first real words he said to Xion since he bear hugged him; he didn’t yet discern what was blossoming between his friends but he smiled at them as though everything was savvy. Pointing at Seth and Xion as they started the truck and left, he had hollered assuring he’d hit them up later while they went separate ways; he still knew where they lived. ”Call me if anything.” He had a temporary high of finding them again within minutes of saying that he dashed off, not wanting Xion to notice he had his keys; did he really end up dragging them into something because that sounds too plausible. It made him feel bad enough to weep but his mind had other plans; his nerves and emotions were not properly connected. For example, he thought he was in the driver’s seat of a car when he clearly wasn’t; it seemed he remembered something but that was just a useless imagination. He forgot he didn’t have a car here. It was just auto-memory, he hoped with anxiety building that he had lost his bike. He was sitting in a deep, roughed up ground hole.
He leaned back on his hands and rotated mechanically; rusty and tiredly bracing himself for the worst. There was a sheet of plastic restraining half his body and he reached for it, clammily touching the material; ruffled and waterproof. It was a strange feeling to be so aware of the only thing covering him; he was naked except a shower curtain. There were holes were the loops would’ve hung it, few decorative hangers still on, it much larger than himself but coiled around him like a badly done toga. Did he use this as a blanket? Why was there a car, someone transported him…
Veronica’s trunk was open and she was there with bottles looking beautifully tragic. He rubbed his cheek where she had slapped, and then wiped his face in frustration, contemplating which path to take. He was standing at the crossroads of sidewalk to his bike and to her car. It felt dense to go after her… she didn’t need him. Damned it, where was Axel? Not letting himself stop, he had kept thinking as he had paced as fast as possible to Seth’s truck before Xion drove it; it where his jacket was hanging after Seth ran out with it as the queen. Fervently he glided to his bike after he grabbed it, putting it back on. All this speed so that he wouldn’t lose determination to get away from her? Good then she wasn’t…
Catcher coughed and attempted to entwine the material better so he could move. He was lacking in motor skills doing it; failing… he felt that strongly and he shuddered, mentally crying out for a savior when the final portion of last night arrived...
A part of him had already failed in his endeavour since he didn’t put his helmet on; he couldn’t even exit the parking lot without passing Veronica. There was luck that Xion left in a hurry with Seth or he’d get an earful. When he wanted her, he couldn’t have her; when he tried the opposite, the universe came together so he could. It was the bane of his existence; opportunity. A snowball effect… Rumbles vibrated, the exhaust puffed and he accelerated but didn’t let go of the brake; the wheels screeched and fumed white smoke and he stopped revving, grimacing. Oh, thank fu-…
”Fine… Fine…” Lamenting under his breath to himself, he had smacked the handle and rode in front of her car, kicked the stand down in the middle of the empty road way and left his bike blocking her parking. Getting off, he pulled the key out so that it was quiet again and walked over to her to stand with his hands in his pockets; eyebrows raised at what she was actually doing." No…!" It was a quiet tantrum of a shout and he covered his mouth with his hand; struggling with life. ”If you just downed all that…” He had gestured to the bottles he could see, then leaned over to try and glimpse if there were more; the reminder of how she would wander off by herself after she drank returned to him. ”Then it looks like you’re stuck with me… listen, it’s the last thing you want, but you don’t have a death wish.” Catcher had rounded her car and opened the door closest to her and sat down in the seat, looking around and into the trunk; he frowned at himself and awaited a retort, closing the back door and laying down in the entire back row, wiggling into comfort. Thoughts of bottles were making him ill now… a seasickness.
Shifting, he tugged the sheet as he tried to stand but knelt from the sudden rush of blood to his head. The force of which he used to help himself mirrored his desperate inner please that nothing more happened, that he just went home and this was wonderland; even a drug stupor would be fine. He felt anemic and stopped for support until the blackout subsided. As soon as the fog cleared, he wrapped the pale purple ombre fabric around his torso with a drape and stood up, looking around as robotically as a surveillance camera. ”Seth…?”
Asking, it was reflex since his memory of last night mainly involved seeing Seth again; his was the first face in his mind and as he trailed off ”Guys…?”He uttered quietly before increasing volume in paranoia. ”Any-one? Hey…?” A sharp pang pierced his head as he had tried to call out, and he winced, pressing his temple.
He crossed an arm and bit his thumbnail in deep focus, trying to piece together something and all he could end up with was that he had talked to Veronica last. That was the worst thing… where is my phone?! Clothes…?! Obviously he had been in some sort of bathroom. Did he almost get murdered? Did he dig himself a grave because that’s not too crazy… but that would mean, he did something he wanted to kill himself over...
”Oh… no…no,no,no…” He was stuck in this creepy dry well, unless he could climb out; the soil below his feet were fresh and malleable, he could push it to the sides. What did she say or do?! I must have shared all her drinks with her… I just can't say no to her. Damn...
Catcher reached for his non existent pockets and growled to himself that his brain was all over the place or blank. He stopped being frantic for a moment and held his breath taking into account his surroundings properly for the first time; trying to jump or find some foothold to claw up. It wasn’t deep but it wasn’t shallow; what is this?! He wobbled and paused, realizing there was something swinging around to his collar and his eyes darted around, disturbed by what might be touching him. Only, it was a loofa… There was a small loofa with string knotted on his earring, making it a dangling ornament. He was wearing, loofa jewelry?! Who did this?
Nearly hyperventilating, he was listening but his ears seemed clogged from the hangover and he swallowed, deliberating clawing as hard as he could to the edge of the surface; he was getting dizzy thinking so hard and exerting himself. Grass at the edge, his arms were pulling himself out luckily, stumbling back crawling away from the ditch. He stared so much his eyes hurt and reacted to the nausea by flopping on the grass; it was a half dug grave with no tombstone and he asked himself in a hushed raspy exhaustion. ”Wtf… happened…?”