I wake up with a screaming headache. I’m surprised I don’t puke as I sit up. I swing my feet over the edge of the bed and am about to make a beeline for the bathroom, but I kick something over. It clatters about. Is that... a glass milk bottle? What the hell? I pick it up and examine it. My partying habits have never been healthy, but I think I should cut back a little. I can’t remember a thing. I try and think back to last night, but there’s just... nothing there.

Okay, so the cold water splashed on my face seemed to wake me up a bit, but I still have no idea what happened last night. It seems my only clue is a glass milk bottle- hey! What’s that in the shower? A bible?! What happened last night? Dread starts sinking in.

I stumble into the living room of my apartment. I trip over the rumpled carpet, and steady myself on the couch (which is covered in empty cups and bottles). I put the milk bottle and bible on my kitchen counter, sweeping some streamers out of the way, and stare at them. To my dismay, they don’t cause a revelation about last night.

I know what will get my memory jogging! A nice cup of coffee and some eggs. And no hangover-cure breakfast is complete without... a bicycle tyre? How many drugs was I on last night? I glance around to see if any of my guests have passed out and slept over, but apart from a few items of clothing there is no sign of life in my apartment. I sigh. This is gonna be a difficulty mystery to solve.

I’d call someone to try and figure out what happened, but my phone’s in the blender. With someone’s brilliant idea for a kale and banana smoothie. As I fish it out, it all comes back to me.

Flashes of last night: me being convinced that Stefanie was possessed and trying to exorcise her in the shower with a bible; freaking out because her mascara was clearly the demon trying to escape; running into the lounge screaming; Wesley handing me some of his homemade liquor in a milk bottle; me throwing up into the toilet while Stefanie sat crying in the shower; me promising all my bad influences that I would go sober and then gratefully accepting a baggie of colourful pills from someone I didn’t recognise; and losing it when Reese arrived with a bicycle, because bicycles were created to replace horses, and I believed I was a centaur.

As quickly as I had remembered, I forget the events of last night again. They slip away through the cracks in my brain. Everything hurts. I want to say that this is a turning point- that I’ll get clean- but deep down I know that next time I’ll party hard too.

I just hope I make it to the morning after.