Another bad morning

I was at a party, different rooms for different sets of people with overlap because I steal groups. It was Kirsty's house since parties generally are there. A note was handed to me with a conversation that trailed down in clumps of terrible handwriting that basically said

I know what you want. She leaves at the end of the night. Do what you want with her but tomorrow she's off limits.

And I sat on the edge of this metal thing while the party paused to wait for my reaction and I felt like crying or laughing or screaming. I had been sold and this was the receipt. He stood up and left and I waited and tried to make it out the door after him. Not sure if I was going to kill him or ask him why or what. Instead I ended up in the kitchen with laughter and whistles flowing through the swing door. I starting tidying up. It was eleven o'clock. His hands were tangled in my hair and I stabbed him repeatedly with knives and forks and empty beer cans but he wouldn't leave. Then one room started emptying. I stood up some stairs so I would be level with the last of them and he hugged me but left. Scored my cheek with his stubble. Couldn't stay, I'd be fine. As soon as the door shut something hit the back of my head and I fell. At this point I got up for some water and found myself in tears. I don't know what any of it means. I never know what any of it means, just that I'm tired.

Later I was shaking this little animal, ugly and odd shaped. There was something caught in its teeth and I shook and shook and shook until this pile of nonsense fell about my feet. There was a gun and History and yesterday and his cadaver hands and a set of playing cards and a bunch of other things and I poured it out while this girl watched me with the biggest bug eyes. She concluded that it meant violence and I crawled blindly towards the plug where my phone charged and typed in eleven numbers I didn't know I still remembered but I woke up before I called it.